hair pin bends

We are getting the train into perth this morning so we are parking and riding from the station at mandurah. Dad is particularly excited at the prospect of going on a train and Im sure that he is going to make Woo Woo, Choo Choo noises at any minute as he is considerably glowing with anticipation.

The train is $9.30 for both of us (not each) and entitles us to all rail travel, bus travel and a ferry crossing for the entire day. I think this is exceptionally good value considering a pint stings you on average $9.

Now picture this seen, we get to the station, the guard helps us buy our tickets to PERTH, we buy the recommended tickets to PERTH, the same guard lets us through the turnstiles to the PERTH train, where the large train on the platform has PERTH written along the side. Inside the sign says stopping at XYZ and ending in PERTH

Dad is desperate to speak to the person in the seats opposite us and goes into his Gday Mick Dundee routine, I suspect that perhaps he has some sort of torrets syndrome but without the swearing or the twitches, is that possible.

Literally, this man will speak to anybody within a 10 feet radius, I have come to the conclusion that he may well be the man that you see on the bus that likes to speak to the conductor or the driver. It isn?t embarrassing, but I find it particularly amusing that he has no ability to just be quiet for a just a moment. He is still my hero though, well along with Colin Mcrae, but he is dead, so that doesn?t really count.

Im going to buy a small tape recorder tomorrow, so he can practice his introductions and just run up to random people and play the tape. Todays winning introduction was Xcuse me hen, is this the train to perth???..

We make it to Perth and Dad is convinced that there is a car rally on in the city, so having not spoken to anybody in 8 minutes that it takes for us to exit the platform, he asks three police men for directions. They say there isn?t a rally on and the only race is a running one. I am particularly disappointed at this point, so we find an internet café and there is definitely a car rally, well done google you are my friend. All is forgiven father.

I have breakfast with Durty Nelly ( irish pub). The irish pubs seem to be absolutely everywhere, about the only place that doesn?t shut half the week, serves a decent pint and has decent food.

The car rally is excellent, a real mix of old cars, from old Bentleys to minis right up to modern day evos and imprezas, battling it out on a road circuit right on the esplanade. As esplanades are long and straight the marshalls have added in a chicane and a hair pin bend using traffic cones.

I adopt a tactical position at the hair pin to watch the accidents, of which there is many. I have therefore solved a previous mystery that the reason there is so many crashes is that Australians cant go around corners. Even the guy in the mini, arguable the words most manoeuvrable small car locks it up and welds his way through the barriers, marshalls are diving for cover. He has three shots at it and blows it every time. I am now the one compelled to talk to this bloke.

He goes Yeah its going really well today.
I go, Well apart for the hairpin
He goes Yeah I don?t know what happened there mate
I bite my tongue as he is a big chap.

We speak to some more of the drivers, and we are both exceptionally happy

Do you smell that? It's castrol R, son. Nothing else on the world smells like that. I love the smell of petrol in the morning.

I burn my leg while leaning against an old car as whoever built it decided it would be a clever idea to run the exhaust along the side of the door and I accidently lean on it. I take so many photos of cars racing past my camera battery dies.

We have lunch in another fenian pub, im not being blasphemous when I call it a fenian pub, as that was actually its name.

We return to the rally for a while, before heading back on the train.

Having some free time, I go fishing on the porch for an hour or so and manage to catch 6 fish. The first one lands on the dock and looks like a normal fish, then woosh it blows it. No literally, it blows up as it?s a puffer fish and they look hilarious when they inflate themselves to twice the normal size. I would have take a photo but there was no aforementioned battery.

We head off out to dinner and end up in Friar Tucks restaurant, bizzarely this turns out also to be Irish, purely by co-incidence.