Steve Gero, our correspondent in the West, shares the loss of his mighty chariot, The Laser.
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I gave away the wreck of the “Laser” today.
It’s been with me through a period of my life where I’ve moved from one side of the country to the other. It took me from Copa to Tumbi to work in the bush with Foz for a few months, as I tried to figure out what life back in Australia was all about. Then it was loaded up with all my gear and we drove south, to the sound of The Panics, with the windows down and the spring sunshine streaming through the windscreen, as I headed for new beginnings in Tasmania. The green south coast opened up for me, and I wound along the bends with excitement and anticipation. I drove into Melbourne with “From St Kilda to Kings Cross” by Paul Kelly playing on the ever-unreliable CD player. The “Laser” and I boarded the Spirit of Tasmania and crossed Bass Strait through the night, then drove from Devonport down to Hobart over the next couple of days. We explored Tassie together – looking for waves at Clifton with Tim and Brooke, cruising down the Tasman Peninsula with Dad, up Mt Wellington with Mum, Cradle Mountain with Crumbs and Rowson, and a lot of trips up to Triabunna to get the ferry over to Maria Island for work. I spent the week on the island, and when I came back, there was the “Laser” waiting for me, quiet and reliable.
In winter, with a rare snow falling in Hobart, I once again loaded the “Laser” up with everything I had, and said goodbye to old places and one or two friends. With uncertainty and sadness, we drove north and again crossed Bass Strait in the night. Through Melbourne, and along the Great Ocean Road, this time the “Laser” was taking on the mighty road west. The mechanic in Hobart said it wouldn’t make it; the road was too long, too hot, too much. Not worth it, mate. But the “Laser” was in and out of Adelaide in a flash, then it conquered the Nullarbor, swallowing up the kilometres. As I lost the plot, the “Laser” held us together, and guided us safely to the coast and into Perth. We were once again together in a new city, not really sure if it was the right thing, the right place, but it was a place and that was enough. The “Laser” helped move all my stuff into Sam’s house, then in with the Shazza’s, then again in with Alena on Forrest St.
It’s taken me on trips down south. Camping in calm, quiet karri forests, and past white sandy beaches. Around Christmas I let it overheat, and the mechanic asked if I was sure it was worth fixing. Heck yeah fix it up, I said, it’ll go forever.
It drove me and Foz on a marathon trip to Exmouth and Karijini, without missing a beat. Michael Franti was blasting whenever the smug CD player deigned to allow music, and the wind blew through the open windows as we raced through the WA outback. We stared at the expanse of flat red earth, we relished being alive in this wild country, two good mates living the dream. The roads got rough and sandy, but the “Laser” just kept on going. It was loaded with gear and covered in red dust, and it loved every moment.
The “Laser” was with me on those trips away with Suzie – we explored the WA mid-west, singing along to Gomez, Pearl Jam and even Johnny Farnham for a laugh. Her foot tucked up beneath her on the seat, the wind ruffling her blonde hair. She looks over at me, pokes me in the arm and says “I just wanna wish you well” in synch with Bernard on the stereo. The “Laser” was alongside on that moonlit night as we played guitar and drank red wine, talking about the strangeness of life.
It was with me through all of that.
Then in a careless moment I smashed it face-first into the back of a truck.
“We’ll take it off your hands mate, but that’s all we can do for you”.
The wreckers made it sound as if they were doing me a favour. I signed a piece of paper, gave them the keys, and walked outside. With a phillips head screw driver, I slowly removed the number plates, put them in my bag, then turned and left.
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Steve Gero is currently living in Fremantle, Western Australia where he works for the Swan River Trust. He is a regular contributor to Stoop Magazine.
