Russell and me on the Willeys Tourer
In 1949 our father brought home the first car he bought after the post war years of petrol rationing and riding his bicycle to work. I’ll never forget the thrill of seeing this amazing machine suddenly arrive on our driveway. It was like something out of the movies; black and shiny, with big round headlights at the front; space for a large picnic basket at the rear; long, wide running boards for ladies to put one foot on and swing themselves up into the seats. There were two seats in the front and room for the three of us in the back. Russell and Susanne are not likely to remember as they were both still very young but, for me, that day meant we had ARRIVED. A Willey’s Tourer, it was the epitome of luxury in my opinion and my silly little brother and sister had better behave themselves if they wanted to sit beside ‘Princess Victoria’ as we went for our first drive. It was only around the block, but that was enough. I was nearly wetting myself with excitement.
During the summer break that year Dad hired a caravan and persuaded our mother that camping with three children would be great fun. Mum did nothing but complain and I didn’t blame her. We were near a beach, not a shady tree in sight, low scrub all around us and the ocean too far away for any of us to wander off and drown. It seemed isolated but I guess there must have been a toilet block and water supply nearby. They certainly didn’t come with that tiny van.
On the second day Dad drove off somewhere, leaving the three of us with Mum, who fell asleep. I decided to take the little ones for a walk so that their chatter wouldn’t disturb her. I realised that, in order to not get lost, I would need to keep the caravan in sight. Susanne was about two and a half—we couldn’t go far. I followed a track up a nearby hill, thinking it would be fun to look down on the ocean from the peak. We were almost to the top when I heard voices. Initially I didn’t register our names amongst the ‘Coo-ees.’ Russell pointed them out to me—men and women walking through the scrub towards us.
‘But we’re not lost, ‘I protested when the strange man reached us and informed me that my parents were terribly worried. ‘Look, I can see the caravan down there,’ and I turned around, intent on reaching the top of the hill.
Taking my siblings for a walk.
‘Vicki!’ Dad’s voice was loud, harsh and frightening.
My heart quivered as I scurried back down that track, dragging my sister by the hand and grumbling at Russell to keep up with me. I expected a spanking but nothing happened, apart from beers and soft drinks being offered to the strangers who found us.
We returned home the next day and camping with the family was never mentioned again.