Our Thirsty Car

Our first day on the road was quite an adventure. It felt like a cross between a cartoon and a bad comedy. We navigated out of Sydney, after more than a few wrong turns, and made it almost 30 miles out (to the start of Highway 1), when Doo Doo Brown decided she’d had enough of the 110 km speed limit. How did we know that she couldn’t take it? Well, the first sign was the white smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe, the second clue was the temperature indicator as it quickly climbed to the “H” (which it later surpassed). The final clue was the steam coming from under the hood.

Pete calmly pulled over onto the generous shoulder, and we stopped the car. After popping the hood open, reading the manual, and considering calling my dad at 3:00 a.m. Eastern Time, we formed a plan. Once the engine had cooled, we checked the reservoir and the radiator for fluid levels. It turned out that both were nearly empty. Luckily we’d filled our water bottles before leaving Sydney, so we had enough water to cool it down so that we could drive it to the next exit.

Pete drove with the hazard lights on, creeping at 20-30 km up a hill to the exit, which was only 1 km from where we’d pulled over. This caused the whole fanfare to start up again, and we pulled over at the first opportunity, just outside of a row of houses off the main street. When we removed the radiator cap this time, there was a lot of hissing and groaning.

Doo Doo was not happy. But for some reason we didn’t panic, and as Pete pointed out to me, it did indeed feel like we were in some strange cartoon. How absurd to be on the side of some road in the middle of Australia with a broken down ’83 Falcon. Just looking at the car makes me laugh, though it also brings back breakdown nightmares from my teenage years of driving an ’81 Volvo.

Peter has already grown very attached to her, and seems to be living out many a Mad Max fantasy from his childhood. So with a newfound infatuation in his heart, and visions of animated radiator caps blowing sky-high in his cartoon imagination, Pete set out for a store in search of more water to feed our thirsty beast. But it only took a few steps because, as it turned out, someone who lived in one of the houses was pulling into his driveway, and once Pete approached him, he proffered a full watering can.

In yet another strange twist, this man (who never gave his name) turned out to be D. Brown’s guardian angel. Not only had he been an engine mechanic on a ship for 15 years, but he was also the proud owner of a ’93 Ford Falcon and had taken classes in fixing their engines. He took over, pouring water and chemical mixtures into the reservoir and radiator, and offering us advice (and meandering stories) as he did so. We offered him $20, but he told us that it would be better spent getting our rusty radiator drained and cleaned out.

The sun had set (it sets around 5:00 here), so we drove off with a refreshed car into the night, finally pulling over to sleep in a rest area. Not the most glamorous place to be, but when your car has a bed in it, one place is just about as good as the next.

On day 2 the car held up nicely, and continues to do so—though we’re still checking the fluids regularly and are going to take her in for a mechanical check-up sometime in the next week.

Yesterday we finally got out of the suburban landscapes and into the countryside. Heading up Highway 1 we encountered rolling hills, lakes, ocean vistas, and farms. At the suggestion of our guidebook and camping guide, we drove to a remote campground on the coast near an outcropping known as Seal Rocks (known for its seal population and surfing, though we didn’t encounter any seals). There were only two other vehicles at the campground, and despite the fact that it was a fee-site, part of Myall National Park, there was no one to collect our money.

We walked through a thicket and down a few sand dunes, and there, near a sweeping expanse of the finest sand, were the crashing waves of the Pacific. It felt like there was nobody around for millions of miles, and Pete took off in a sprint to capture the setting sun with his camera. The water was cold, the air was fresh and still, and it felt like we couldn’t breathe enough of it in. Later that night, with the guidance of a full moon, we walked out to platform on the sand dunes and admired the chilly scenery.

Since we haven’t figured out the whole cell phone usage thing, both of our phones are dead because we don’t have a car charger, and the internet is pretty scarce, I can’t promise the most consistent communication.

Our short-term plan (for the remainder of the week), is to continue climbing up the coast on Highway 1 toward Byron Bay. The highlight of the coast is sure to be swimming and snorkeling along the Great Barrier Reef, though we will probably do that once we arrive in Cairns, the farthest major city on the east coast, which is a major hub for most boat trips out to the reef.

As you go farther north, the climate here becomes subtropical, and the crops seem similar to those of Hawaii. We have the WWOOF (willing workers on organic farms) book for Australia, with a listing of over 1,600 farms, and we hope to stay on a few for a week here and there. The average farm-stay here is about a week, since it caters to young people who are traveling through, and it could also give us an opportunity to make money off the books.

No worries, mate.