1968 Australian Trip in a 1928 Model A Ford

By Jeanette Fay

I married Edward, the boy next door. My life had been quiet and calm whilst Edward’s loud and full of life with a big family, but that’s us. Having vintage cars, we really enjoyed vintage car rallies and camping. That’s how our lifetime of spontaneity, travel and adventure started.

We left Rhodesia (Now Zimbabwe), for South Africa before setting sail to Australia in May 1968. It was eight months of mostly mud, dust and corrugated, isolated outback roads, in a trusty 1928 Model A Ford named ‘Old Henry’ and with a husband who could virtually tie a car together with wire and string and get it back on the road.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Feb 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798369495209

Book preview

1968

Australian Trip

in a

1928

Model A Ford

Jeanette Fay

Copyright © 2024 by Jeanette Fay.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/16/2024

Xlibris

AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)

AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)

www.Xlibris.com.au

857279

Contents

Our Background

The Will to Thrive

The Prospect of Immigration

Our Departure from Durban

The Party Boat

Surprise Welcome to Perth

Which Way to Melbourne?

The Unsealed Nullabor

Eucla

A Sealed Road at Last

Waiting for Old Henry to Arrive in Melbourne

Goodbye Melbourne

On the Road Again

Rockhampton

Lotus Creek

Sarina & Mackay

Cane Farm Work, Bloomsbury

Whitsunday Island’s Day Trip

Itchy Feet

Parting Ways

On Our Own Again

Croydon

Normanton

Camooweal

Three Ways

Onwards Through the NT

Darwin

Servant’s work

Dreaming of Going Home

Aileron

Alice Springs and Beyond

Coober Pedy

Adelaide

Homeward Bound

Cape Town

A Surprising Return Home

Our Background

In 1950, at the age of three, I moved from Durban, South Africa to Bulawayo, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) with my mother and father, and my sister Brenda who is eighteen months older than me. My father was of French-Mauritian descent from a farming background, a qualified construction carpenter and a passionate gardener. My mother was from English immigrant parents who sadly died within days of each other from the Spanish flu in 1920 when she was only six years old. Mom was a homemaker and gave us a baby sister, Sharon, when I was seven. She was my living doll.

We moved house often, which mom hated, but dad was always thinking of having more space for his vegetable gardens so he could produce enough to take to market. As a school kid, we had to help to get the flowers and vegetables to the market and on display by 6am. On Sundays we attended Mass at the Catholic Church at 6am. Our days started at 4.30am except for Saturdays when we could sleep in or just do as we wished. On Fridays we went to Bingo at the Church and occasionally to the horse races on a Saturday. Our parents had had a very tough upbringing, they were good, hard working people and we lived a simple life. It was a very loving family environment but somewhat mundane.

That was until we moved next door to the Fay family. Their home was a sprawling place, with outside rooms and caravans to accommodate the large family. Vehicles of all types and in all different states of repair were parked in the yard. The Fays house was so full of life, laughter, noise, and chaos. Noisy Geese patrolled the large garden and if you went to the outside toilet they wouldn’t let you out. A couple of cows wandered around and sought shelter in the outside bedrooms when it rained. People would come and go at all hours of the day and night. A long trestle table with benches down each side seated their family of eight, plus all the others that came and went. I was twelve and found all the chaos exciting.

The Fays had five boys and a girl, the youngest. All had a five-year gap in between except for the second and third, who were Richard and Edward, who was eighteen months younger than Richard. Richard had died at age twenty-one while racing motor bikes before I met the family. The eldest, Lesley, was married and had moved out of home. Then Basil, five years younger than Edward, was into boxing and car rallying. Robin, better known as ‘Squack’ was the same age as me, so we just hung around after school with other kids who lived out at Khami - there was nothing much to do out there. Then at long last came little Leonora who was seven. Edward was rarely home as he drove trucks, carting glass from South Africa to Rhodesia.

I started going out with boys from thirteen, going to discos with my sister Brenda. Our dad would drop us off and pick us up. Occasionally when Edward was home and going into town seven miles away, we would ask him for a lift in and my dad would pick us up. Over the next few years Edward got engaged but would still give me and my sister lifts into town and often home again. I never saw a lot of his fiancé. I had a few boyfriends but being around Edward I always felt like we had so much in common. Over time Edward realized that too, and he no longer felt that same connection with his fiance and they drifted apart.

I could never get along with boys around my age, their immaturity annoyed me. Being in Edwards company was something I really enjoyed, and so did he even though I wasn’t quite 16 yet, and he was 10 years older. It never bothered us that all his friends called him a cradle snatcher.

Edward then secured a job in town, and so did I. That’s when life began, camping and going on car rallies. Every weekend we would plan a new adventure. We married in August 1966 and honeymooned in Beira, Mozambique with an old Land Rover and caravan. No hotels for our honeymoon!

After the weather turned windy and rainy, with sand blowing in our mouths and eyes, being very uncomfortable we decided to return to our home in Bulawayo which Edward had purchased before we married. We sorted out wedding presents and organized the house. Edward still had two weeks leave so we were now itching to do something else. I had a little Ford Anglia. We threw in a tent, bedding, food, and clothing and headed right back to Beira. By the time we returned the school holidays were finished, so we had the beach and bar all to ourselves. Picking a spot to pitch the tent, near to the ablution blocks and bar, was easy. Struggling against the wind off the sea we pitched the tent, this was not easy with a heavy canvas bell tent. Realizing that all twelve pegs had been left behind, we tied the windward side to a tree and used 3 screwdrivers to secure the other sides. That should do it Edward said with a big grin, let’s get to the pub.

A bartender amused us with testing the alcohol content of the spirits by pouring a little on the bench and setting it alight, then giving Edward a shot of each. After 2 hours Edward staggered back with me supporting him. We were awoken by the tent flaps blowing in the wind, the 3 screwdrivers didn’t quite do the job and we had a view of the whole camp from our stretchers. Crawling out of the stretcher Edward found a giant hairy black spider. Fortunately, it was very dead.

This is how our marriage started, with my very adventurous, amazing, loving, Mechanic husband.

004_b_aa.jpg004_a_aa.jpg

The Will to Thrive

What is life? It can become very monotonous waking up at 6am, out the door by 7am, traveling the same roads, passing familiar people awaiting the bus, arriving at the same job. This got Edward thinking there must be more to life than this never ending same old routine. Day in day out you become a miserable slave.

Arriving home after work one day, in January of 1968 Edward asked me what I thought of the idea of going to Australia. From that very day our heads swirled with excitement. Planning this was not going to be an easy feat - where to even start?

Being vintage car enthusiasts in our hometown of Bulawayo, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), we owned a few Model A Fords. One was a 1928 4 door Tudor. It wasn’t suitable for this trip, but our other, a 1928 Model A Pickup was perfect - more robust for going into the unknown. This car was in very good condition. We had owned it for a year and drove it to Mozambique on a vintage car rally which ended in the bull ring. We were very confident in this vehicle. We had purchased it at the bargain price of 100 pounds and a crate of beer. Putting all our faith in this vehicle that became known as ‘Old Henry’, we were hopeful he