With the finish of the 3800km Shitbox Rally in Cairns yesterday there are many big questions to be answered.
For instance, what happened to the Singing Dingo? What is the greatest miracle to ever happen in Australia, apart from Plugger Lockett kicking a behind after the siren to win the 1996 AFL preliminary final?
Before I try to answer these mysteries I have to report things did not start well.
Naturally I drove the trusty 2004 Ford BA ute (pick-up for US persons, shooting brake for UK persons, Rolls-Royce for Latvian readers) from Sydney to the start of this year’s Shitbox Rally in Adelaide, on a stretch of Australian road quaintly called the Killer Highway.
I overnighted at a small village which I cannot name for defamation reasons, so I won’t describe its pleasures on a Thursday night except to say that at this stage of its development, Paris, New York and Toad Suck, Arkansas, should not be concerned about the competition.
But after more than 1000km on an asphalt highway bending through wheat silos and derelict towns with no crushed avocado, quinoa and skinny latte, rose the motel of lost companions with heated pool and spa (for an extra $15 a night). While the room was spacious, if you’ve seen the shower scene from Psycho, the one where young Marion Crane is undressing to take her shower while Norman is peering through a small hole looking at her take her kit off, you can imagine my bathroom that night.
As you know Marion (who has successfully nicked $US40,000 from her boss) is peering through the shower curtains, screams and gets chopped to death. That same shower and curtain were in my motel room. Needless to say, I went smelly.
Anyway, the start of Shitbox 2017 was a typical Adelaide morning — heavy sleet with a touch of hail. There were 250 examples of why the Australian motoring industry died, driven by 500 persons who (with the exception of myself) would be normally starring in the Adelaide rep’s amateur production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. There is nothing to stir one’s stomach more on an early Saturday morning than the sight of grown men and women, dressed up as pigs, and scrawny super persons and horse riders with the front of the horse strapped to where one’s naughty bits are so giving the effect of what can only be called a bit of good old fashioned bestiality.
Thankfully many readers turned up to claim the ornamental pens and the Australian bags.
Anyway, off we went to the near outback town of Roxby Downs where we started dress-up day and the theme was yellow. Michael McMichael’s daughter Charlotte dressed up as Emma, the female Wiggle. The Wiggles are a group of adults who wear very bright clothes and entertain children.
Naturally the Shitbox Rally attracts huge crowds. There were kids and parents everywhere.
Of course, Emma Wiggle attracted a team of little ones. Unfortunately, they found Emma just when she was downing a can of South Australia’s finest brew and having a ciggie. Ignoring the fire risk she threw the ciggie into the bushes and hid the can behind her back. The children were excited to see one of their favourite stars but as they were walking away one was overheard saying, “Mummy, I think Emma Wiggle is an alcoholic.”
OK, by now you are asking, “so what did happen to the Singing Dingo?” Well, I had never heard of it until the rally. One of our group said we had to stop at the roadhouse where the contralto canine resided. We only had to divert 100km to find the roadhouse where we found, yes, a singing dingo, but he had sung his last some years ago.
When his owner pounded the piano keys, Dinky the singing Dingo would jump on the piano and howl like a, well, like a dingo. Dinky’s owner Jim Cotterill, told the NT News, “He was a great ambassador for tourism, but he was also a wonderful ambassador for singing dingoes.” You’re 100 per cent right there, Jim.
And so to the duck.
Rubber Ducky is the rally car of Heather and Julie Pesch.
Heather was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer in 2014. As Heather says, “Yep, that’s the bad one — there’s no Stage 5. I know because I googled it. But don’t feel sorry for me because I am flat out refusing to let this despicable disease beat me. So, it’s nearly four years on and I’m still going strong, and that’s all thanks to some truly amazing drugs — drugs that might never have been invented without the vital funds for research that the Shitbox Rally helps to raise every year.”
Heather is a beautiful, vibrant young woman from Brisbane who is the epitome of courage.
While navigating the 317km from Mount Isa to the Burke and Wills Roadhouse, the 1998 Mitsubishi, no doubt feeling the weight of a hefty paper mache yellow duck on its roof, went down into a dip that could have hidden the Titanic, hit bottom and cracked the sump and gearbox.
Luckily a support vehicle towed the duck to the camping ground at the Burke and Wills Roadhouse where sump surgeons Darren Pelacchi and Craig Wills from Team Mello Yello worked all night banging the sump into shape and glueing the gearbox back together. By first light the Duck was raised from the dead.
Before all that drama our team visited the Urandangi State School. This school and its two young teachers from Brisbane are extraordinary. They teach 18 primary kids from the small indigenous community. They also give the kids breakfast, morning tea and lunch in a place where unfortunately many kids suffer from malnutrition.
Anyway, we provided every child with a Shitbox Rally cap and T-shirt. One team member encouraged eight young ones to jump on the bonnet of his car.
After watching this and reading the Shitbox Rally logo, Sarah the teacher gathered the kiddies together and suggested:
a) they do not mention the name of the rally to their parents,
b) they do not under any circumstances jump on the bonnets of any cars they see in town, and
c) it may be better if they could completely forget that our rally team ever visited the school.
The Shitbox Rally is important for a number of reasons. One, it does highlight amazing people like Heather and like the two teachers at a remote indigenous school and, two, it raises a shitload of money for research into a disease we should have cured by now.
This is a shortened version of the original article – read the rest at The Australian
