tell a Model A related story

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Gerry’s pet Monkey.

Gerry Post was one of three Dutch pilots I worked with in Sudan in 1977. The three were all good pilots and Gerry was my good drinking buddy. He never had any money and continually asked for loans for which he never repaid but not to worry for it was spent on liquor and I got to share it.
I first met him on the airliner enroute to Khartoum. On arrival he insisted we go to the bar of the Excelsior Hotel bar for a drink of beer. My first mouthful got spat straight back into the glass and he was expecting this. The brand was Camel and I reckon it was brewed from camel shit and straw. Well Gerry gave a laugh and said I’d become quite accustomed to it in about 5 days. Yes he was correct.
One of the locations we worked was Aba Shoush I remember but I don’t remember the correct spelling. Well Gerry reckons he’ll have a pet monkey and this is how he caught it with the recommendations and help of an old timer. They chased them up a tree and sat below with a bottle of beer each and pretended to drink it. The monkeys were terribly curious of course and when the blokes left, leaving the bottles behind and now opened the monkeys climbed down and they too drank it. They became drunk of course having never before experienced alcohol and the blokes simply picked one up. I don’t recall what name they gave it, it’s now more than 40 years ago. ( see the third line on my signature).Monkey lived in a tarpaulin strung over the roof of our “rest house”. In protest to having been removed from it’s community it pulled some of it’s teeth but in10 days it was like one of the family. At the end of the spray season Gerry flew one of the planes back to Europe and Monkey rode along and became an illegal immigrant in Holland.
I heard a funny incident about this way of catching a monkey. On a previous occasion it was said the old bloke coughed and lost his false teeth. The monkeys up the tree showed their teeth and pulled at them in a gesture of amusement and laughter.

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It’s sad to loose a friend.
A bumiputera is a Malaysian who has one parent native Malaysian and is Muslim. This is a broad term and criteria is sometimes controversial. According to the last account it is 11% of the population. These people get special privileges such as schooling work promotion, housing etc.. Other Malaysians makeup 50%, Chinese 22%, Indian 11%. These numbers would be difficult to account because there is no sensis for there is no orderly addresses and sometimes no orderly housing.
It is the Chinese and Indians who do best in business and thus have considerably more wealth. They are far better workers for Malaysians are a fairly weary lot. For labouring or tiresome work “guest workers” are hired. These are men who come from other Muslim states, Pakistan, Indonesia and some parts of the Philippines. I think the Philippinoes who worked in Malaysia were mostly Muslims of convenience (employment). All guest workers were paid very little and employers didn’t have consider health, welfare or good housing. The government took a big wack from them for a work permit. But never the less these guest workers returned home after about 3 years as wealthy people.
The operator I worked for in Malaysia did pay them well and they became quite wealthy, but not millionaires overnight. We had three who loaded the aeroplanes and 1 organiser. I worked with Amat which was short for Mohammad. They were all Mohammads with their names shortened to various derivatives such as Amat and Ali. Amat was new to loading aeroplanes when he came to work with me. He had driven an earth moving loader prior. I spent time teaching him how to do it and this payed off because he became the slickest driver of them all. He became as loyal and obedient as my hound “woofa” and like woofa he was fun to work with. We enjoyed each others company and he referred to me as “my teacher” and I liked and admired him.
On occasions the fertilizer was delivered in 1 cwt bags a team of maybe 15 women and girls would arrive to decant these bags. We would tease them and they enjoyed this. I would ask which girl would like to marry me, Amat would interpret and they would all have a good giggle. They said I was wealthy and should marry woman from Bollywood. They all would be married even the young ones who had only just reached puberty. I’d ask who want to come and ride with me in the aeroplane, they’d all giggle, none would accept. We’d talk them around. I’d line them up and select by the rhyme eni meni minie moo. You know the ditti. They would not understand it but could follow the rhyme and I’d emphasise the end so they knew the winner was random. More giggling. The prize winner would be most apprehensive and be a little bashful as we climbed in. On takeoff she’d grab hold of my arm and release in two or three minutes, grab again when I turned even though I made the turns gentle. It really did give them a thrill and if they were Indonesian and we were near the boarder I’d climb and point out their home country. They were heroes when we landed. Even today more than19 years later they will still be people of notoriety.
Our work concluded in the year 2000. Amat gave me his name in some long Arabic form and Malaysian address. I wrote twice and included some ringgit (Malaysian currency) and never got a thankyou which indicates clearly he never received it. I did however receive a Christmas card with a new address. I was leaving for Hong Kong so I took the card with me with intentions of replying. On arrival I gathered my gear including the material in the seat pocket but inadvertently left Amat’s card. I lost contact with my friend.
Next time I was in Honkers I purchased a seat to Malaysia and prior to departure made contact with a Chinese fellow who had email. He responded to say the Philippinoes had returned to their Philippine homes. I have written again and again to the original address but again no response.
I feel it would be pointless to start a search. I hoped Amat would write just once more to test my address but now after 19 years I know the chance is remote. I conclude I have lost contact and this saddens me.
Did you ever loose contact with a friend? You’d feel sad just like I do.
Footnotes. The picture is of an aeroplane being loaded here in Australia. In this case with fertilizer to spread on a rice crop. A different type of loader to what we used in Malaysia but never the less a loader.
Did you read my story on taking the old Indonesian man for a flight? Maybe I’ll write it again.

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Sequel to yesterday’s story.

This is a follow on from my story yesterday about taking the girls for a ride in the aeroplane. It’s a similar sort of setup.
You all know from my stories that alot of oil palm is grown in Malaysia and indeed Indonesia as well. This palm grows big bunches of oil seeds which yield palm oil. I don’t know at what age the tree becomes productive but each year these big bunches are cut, collected and milled. A worker cuts the bunch with a pruning saw where it is picked up by a man with a water buffalo pulling a sled cart and taken to a bush track nearby. A crew in an old Toyota truck comes by and picks up these big bunches of fruit and carts it to a crushing mill where it is crushed to extract the oil which is then transported to a wharf . A big oil carrying cargo ship takes it onboard and transports it off to market.
Now back to the harvest. As the tree grows higher the fruit harvester adds an extension to his saw handle and can cut from the highest trees. He is quite a skilled man.
One day when I had the girls all lined up to make this random winner choice (Eni Meeni Miney Moe) of who gets a ride in the aeroplane a very aged Indonesian harvester was on site and I included him in the draw. He won and he rode.
About an hour later I was in transit for home and became quite uncomfortable, I was itching down my back and soon all over. It took quite sometime to realise why. Lice. They became most intolerable so when I got back to our base this is what I did. Stripped and sprayed all my clothes with insecticide then myself in person. Placed all my clothing in the washing machine. Showered myself well and dressed. I returned to the aeroplane and gave the cabin a good spray out. End of lice and an uncomfortable afternoon.
Ever had body lice? It's not pleasant.

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Have you ever considered how lucky you are?

Regardless of how much land an Asian has to build his house or community or even a town they will all live on top of each other. All squeezed in. Health and hygiene are really not a consideration. Privacy can’t be either. The last story was of body lice. These would be easy to eradicate but as I said health, welfare and living standards are just not a consideration made by employers towards their guest workers.
Head lice were another irritation for the workers. The girls would come to the airstrip to decant bags and when their work was caught up one would sit between the legs of a second who would carefully look for and crush head lice with her fingers. Their work clothes were rags but their good clothing was better. That was second hand clothing sold by a travelling merchant. Used clothing of a good western standard that had been collected in some wealthy western country. These guest workers left their families in their home state. Likewise for Philipino house maids who worked in wealthy Asian countries such as Singapore and Hong Kong. In wealthy middle eastern countries too where they can be treated poorly. These Philippinoes left their children with the children’s grandparents sometimes for years.
My parents battled to make a living out of a dairy farm. We had electricity, an old motorcar and had a beach holiday each year, granted in a shack which should have been condemned even then. There were times when Dad needed to borrow money to feed us. We went to the movies maybe once a year.There is no doubt many of you readers could relate to that or even a few into more difficult circumstances. However what ever the standards were they would not compare to the standards of these guest workers.
There were other people who were treated poorly. These were Caucasians, the ship crews who came to load the palm oil. I’ll speak about them next story, but in the interim just be grateful if you were born into a western family that provided a better standard of living. There is no doubt all you readers were. This story has not come to you from a leftie socialist but from a person who pities those who are treated poorly.

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Ship’s crew who I made contact with in Kampong Sahabat.

In my time working Sahabit Malaysia only two ships with Caucasian crews docked. One with a Russian crew and the other Ukraine. The rest being Asian crews. I opened dialog with the Caucasians mainly out of curiosity. Several of them were English speaking. The first ship crewed by Ukrainians and they were keen to meet and talk with westerners. I invited 6 of them to come to the hotel and dine with us. I shouted them drinks and they were thirsty and followed by dinner and they enjoyed that too. They were probably tired of ship dinning and I would guess that food was pretty repetitious. They said they got back to their respective homes once every 18 months. It had been 4 months since they received wages. I don’t recall just how much they were paid but I thought at the time it wasn’t a great deal. I remember one bloke was named Val who said he had once docked at Sydney. He gave me his address but a young friend of mine said they couldn’t organise food for their population let alone mail. Don’t expect him to receive any correspondence my friend said.
The second Caucasian crew was Russian. Three of them had pooled their money and asked me to convert it to Malaysian Ringgit. They produced 38USD which they said was 3 months savings. I felt pitifully sorry for them so I was generous. So little for gary and such alot to them. They bought a crew to dinner like the Ukrainians and they too had raging fires down their necks. I had a box of 1 dozen bottles of Philippine Tanduay rum to take to a nephew in Kula Lumpur and they consumed 11 of them. With help from me and our Australian crew of course. It’s terrible rum unlike their excellent San Magill beer. They invited us to dinner on the ship but I was scheduled to return an aeroplane to Australia the following day and missed it but our crew said they had a good night.
Don’t we in the west have it good by comparison. Wages, holidays, consumer products including housing and the ability to change jobs if we so wish.
The picture is from the internet and is of ships loading palm oil at Sahabat jetty.

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Official investigation into illegal use of DDT.

It was about 1982 when the use of DDT was removed from Australian registration. One big user was farmers on rice for an insect known as bloodworm. Death for these water born insects was instantaneous. They would float to the surface and the wind would blow them to the downwind side of the rice bay. This would please the farmer and confirm his good decision to have sprayed. The replacement insecticide was Abate and this proved unpopular for by comparison a kill took up to 5 days. We as crop sprayers had the acid on us to use DDT but just couldn’t. One operator a personable but rebellious fellow continued to apply. The government had a chemical inspector who went to his airstrip and took swabs from his aeroplane and loading truck. He was gone. Well I thought he was anyway. This chemical inspector and I had become good friends and I got to ask him how it turned out. He told me it turned out well. When he got back to town he chucked all the evidence in the rubbish. He said he believed it had deterred him from using it again. A satisfactory outcome without having to go to court. It's not often one finds a public servant with a brain. Well not the ones I seem to come in contact with anyway.
I have remained friends with this fellow. He has an unusual health issue which he has furnished details of. About middle age he started to stumble and now has difficulty in walking. He is becoming spastic. His correspondence below for any of you who are interested in the medical aspect.He is married to a girl from Laos and I was intending to bring you a most interesting letter regarding her life but it may be interpreted as a social issue and thus I have decided against publishing.

The name of the condition is “hereditary spastic paraplegia” which arises by both parents carrying a recessive gene but neither parent exhibits the disability. This illustrates the importance of choosing one’s parents wisely.

Did you choose wisely?

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Enjoy

your National Holiday.

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I'm having a whinge.

I started my business in 1980. To raise the capital I sold my house and my parents lent me 20k. In addition I raised money through a broker to purchase my first ag plane. A credit squeeze prevailed at the time and the interest on the plane was 20%. Interest on my overdraft was also 20% but when I exceeded the agreed amount it rose to 24%. That not the excess, that’s 24% on the lot. Nothing was easy and not to mention the drought we had in 1982.
My pilot licence expires in August and I don’t plan to renew it. I now live off my savings and have them deposited securely in the bank as Mr Bank’s general manager said (Mary Poppins). These savings attract an interestrate of some 2%.
At 24% my overdraft doubled in 3 years and at 2% my savings doubles in 36 years but my need to eat is eroding them.
I guess I’m not Robinson Crusoe am I?

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Now History for Gary.

Today in Australia is Sunday 7 July 2019. On Friday I sprayed canola with insecticide and herbicide. Two loads on a paddock of about 200 acres. Wind was quite moderate, an east north easterly. Two susceptible adjacent crops to the herbicide, one on the north the other on the east. We had waited for this wind direction for only 2 days. A north easterly is a not so common winter wind, it is mostly an autumn wind.
I enjoyed flying this job and it had significance. My pilot licence expires next month and it is not my intention to renew it. We are currently in drought so basically all crop sprayers are idle. This I think is my last ever crop spraying job, my career being now 51 years of agricultural work. I felt a little sad when it finished but was also pleased with myself. Patsy had a bottle of champagne in the fridge and we enjoyed drinking that whilst looking at an internet show of Andrea Rieu.
I will renew my licence on one circumstance only and that is if my granddaughter Millie decides to go flying. She has taken some formal flying lessons but hasn’t yet indicated if she will go flying for a career. If she does I will teach her. I taught my 2 sons who are now senior captains flying international for 2 airlines that always rate in the top 10 world wide. I also taught my grandson who is now a military pilot and made a contribution to several others who had or since have successful pilot careers. I look back with quite a degree of satisfaction. The picture is of me spraying cotton a few months back and I think I may have published this previously?
Patsy and I are departing for Queensland tomorrow morning and I’ll be on and off the air for up to a fortnight. Perhaps you readers could continue this thread. You might surprise yourself and others because I know we each have tales to tell. Don’t leave it to your eulogy to make it public.

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I have had a nice letter (email) from my son. I was both pleased to receive and proud of my son. I have copied and pasted it below. You may well say it's a bit of ego and probably it is.

Congratulations Dad.

A career well conducted. I know many Finley farmers who have told me of the quality work you did and many Ag pilots who have commented on the quality flying you would do. I guess the two go hand in hand.

How many hours do you think you flew in your career?

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Slow learners we are.


I live in a shire with an overbearing General Manager. He is authoritive and trashes cash. A group of us has been endeavouring to stop this wastage and temper his authority. No success so far. Today’s story is not of that but is a quote from more than 2000 years ago and is still applicable today.
The wise man quoting this was Marcus Cicero and here is a very brief précis of his life, cut and pasted from Wikipedia.
Marcus Tullius Cicero was a Roman statesman, orator, lawyer and philosopher, who served as consul in the year 63 BC. He came from a wealthy municipal family of the Roman equestrian order, and is considered one of Rome's greatest orators and prose stylists.
And here is a quote which I reckon you all can relate to today.

The budget should be balanced, the treasury refilled, public debt reduced, the arrogance of officialdom tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands curtailed, lest Rome become bankrupt.
That is only one of many Cicero quotes that is just as applicable today as it was when the man spoke these words. They can be read on the internet, Cicero quotes. A good read and those who choose to will be annoyed even angered we just have not learned.

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Serious instructions or Humour?

Patsy and I plus 2 grandkids have driven to Bundaberg in Queensland for a family event. A three day drive and for once we are pleased kids can occupy themselves with electronic computerised entertainment.
Home in Tocumwal is 35 degrees south and Bundaberg is 25 degrees south. 10 degrees less in latitude but 10 degrees Celsius rise in temperature, both max and min. A welcome change of course but that’s not today’s story.
We are in a motel with a notice on the front door. I don’tknow if it is intended as serious instruction or some persons humour. You be the judge. Here it is below.
In case of emergency call 000 before taking a selfie.
000 is equivalent to American 911.

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By Gosh Rick could SNORE.

Rick Mailler is an excellent farmer. First equal with 2 others. Nothing stands in his way of sowing, protecting, harvesting and delivering his crop. He once had an aeroplane but sold it when he needed the cash to purchase fertilizer. I like farmers who buy aeroplanes because they upgrade their airstrips which was the case here but everything Rick did was well done.
Before GPS became available the farmer stood at the end of the paddock, a buddy at the opposite end and wave a flag and that is what provided tracking guidance for the pilot. For rice sowing each run was 18 yards and spraying from 18 to 24 depending on the type of pesticide and droplet size I selected.
Rick didn’t mess with small areas and to mark, especially on rough ground then run to the next block to sow or spray was fairly exhausting. I suggested he mark the wheel of his truck and count the revolutions needed for each run. He figured that was a good idea and put one of his yellow calf length rubber gum boots in the wheel cutting. This worked well but when he finished the job and returned to the airstrip he was wearing only one yellow boot. “where’s your other boot Rick” I enquired. Well at the end of the job he forgot to retrieve this boot from the truck wheel, he just drove off and lost it. At the end of the second job Rick arrived back with bear feet. You know where the other boot went don’t you.
Geoff Dearly was his payed helper and next time we worked for Rick, Geoff arrived back with one only gum book and next time none. You know where they had gone, obviously. No, that's not a phoney story, it's ridgy didge.
Rick was never absent minded, his mind was always active, always. He was even difficult to speak to because his train of thought had to be interrupted. He had few friends for one reason only, his communication skills were poor. He and his wife Judy had 4 kids. They were taught to work when they were small and all have done well in life because of the work ethic they were raised with.
When I get home I’ll go through my album and get a photo of the man. In the interim here’s a cartoon. To be continued.

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Rick could SNORE. Continued.

Yes I will come to Rick’s snoring, maybe tomorrow. In the interim I’ll tell you plenty about farmers and farming. I know Katy (contributor on this forum) is a farmer and maybe other readers of this forum too. For those of you who aren’t let me usefully inform you about those who grow our food.
In Australia 80% of our population live within 50 miles of our coast line, mostly in state capital cities and another 15% live in regional’s and again mostly fairly close to the coast. Few live inland but there are about12 fairly large regional’s here, the likes of Dubbo or Toowoomba for example. That leaves only a few who farm or graze or live in small country towns who mostly service these industries on the land. Even the mining industry employees fly in for a short period and fly home to be rotated by another crew.
The rift between the urban people and country people is widening. This is a shame. Few urban people know country people and have no connection to the land but have expectations of continuous food supply. Food producers are price takers in what is often a competitive market. Our governments like these people because they provide cheap food. They need not give them any icecream for they never vote Labor and can’t be bought but vote Liberal (silly but that is our conservative party) so icecream is not necessary.
Rick has two dogs. Ruff, a Blue Healer and Poly, a Boarder Collie crossed with a Kelpie. I had two hired pilots for our rice season. Both very experienced high time fellows by the names of David and Duane. To work for Rick was almost a converted job because these two dogs were so entertaining. Ruff would try to catch the aeroplane. He’d run and launch himself off a check bank and reach quite a considerable height. It was necessary to fly a bit higher to avoid hitting him. One day I wasn’t able to see him but then I caught a glimpse of his snout and eyes. He was under water and then he launched himself. I remember the water streaming off him like pictures I’ve seen of a missile being launched from an underwater submarine.
Now Polly would run around in tight circles simular to a dog endeavouring to catch it’s tail. Round and around, even in a small confined area such as the tray on a ute that could be littered with farm gear such as fencing tools and equipment. Round and around. Rick thought she did it because the noise hurt it’s ears but I did see Rick encouraging it to do so anyway.
If any of us had worked for Rick that day, the first conversation when we returned home would be about the behaviour of Ruff and Poly.
Photo of Rick, of my Blue healer and her pups and from the internet a picture of a Kelpie dog.

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Rick could Snore. part 3.

Up until about the mid 60’s our government cut up large leasehold blocks of grazing country and awarded them to applicants in a ballot. Conditions applied such as sufficient capital to develop the land. Rick had won one of these and arrived in a Inter truck as his transport and home. He slept beneath the vehicle and the cabin was used as a wardrobe and shelter in the event of bad weather. He went on to build a machinery shed which was partitioned to become his home where he raised his family. Both farming conditions and living conditions were difficult. But he managed, developed the land and eventually built a good house. He never had any money and that was the case of many farmers in those years and also today. Nothing has changed. Farmers are economically most important to our country but politically insignificant.
As I have said earlier Rick and wife Judy had one son and three daughters. The girls were good lookers and one day when Katy, the eldest,arrived at the airstrip to help, dressed in shorts and shirt I turned to Rick and said “gee Rick I wish I was younger” and Katy said “and I wish you’d send the younger pilot”. He was Cameron Jones a 22 year old who was both personable and handsome.
In addition to being a good looker, Katy was a good manager. She kept the books and constrained Rick in his expenditure. He used to go to town and have a beer in the pub and that’s where he fuelled his ute. Well he got a letter from Katy saying just how much more this had cost in comparison to having pumped it at home. She concluded, and Dad, to put that into context you will clearly understand, that equates to 93 middies. A middie is a 10oz beer.Yes Katy did keep Ricks expenditure under control.
Now I haven’t told you about Rick’s ability to snore loudly to the extreme, but I will come to that shortly. Sometime in the early part of this new century Rick organised a trip to an island in the Gulf of Carpentaria to go fishing. I flew the party, they paid for the aeroplane plus fuel and I payed my share of other expenses. Destination, Sweers Island. We arrived, the party seemed to rush to their cabins whilst I tucked the plane in and kissed it good night. When I arrived at the cabins I found the crew had allocated Rick and I one cabin and they all were in another. That night I discovered why. Rick’s snoring rattled the cabin so much in the morning I was surprised to find the screws and bolts used to erect it were still in place and hadn’t been vibrated loose. Man the bloke could snore, the rest of the crew knew this and that’s why they left Rick to Gary.
On route home we overnighted at Olympic Dam, a relatively new and a large successful uranium mine operated by BHP (Broken Hill Proprietary). It is located in the South Australian desert. During the night I saw all these coloured lights reflecting in my room which was Rick watching TV. Like many overnight TV shows it was a promo. This night for cook wear. Rick said several times “I must buy that for Judy”. Knowing Rick he would have forgotten that before breakfast time. Somehow our luggage was left in the room where the rest of the party were sleeping. Rick goes to fetch it. He arrives back with it and said,“Tom was rather rude to me”. I looked at my watch and it was not yet 3 in the morning. Rick returned to his bed and resumed his snore. God knows how Judy even slept in the same house let alone the same room.
Tomorrow, last chapter.

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The forth and final episode of "Rick can Snore" is delayed a little. I am waiting on some figures to legitimise the story. I am currently away from home and my life should be back to normal next week.

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Rick can Snore. Part4 is still coming.

I am wanting information from Rick to conclude this story. The problem is Rick. I can’t raise him on his phone. He carries a mobile and when he has finished an incoming call or a call he has initiated he fails to hangup. It gives the engaged signal for sometimes several days. You see Rick is not a tech savvy person. I’d hate to pay his phone bill because he will be charged for time on line when he has initiated the call.

In the interim.

What’s in today’s Newspaper.

Some of us buy a newspaper each day. We are addicted. If today’s paper is unavailable for any reason we will not want it tomorrow. We have what seems to be an insatiable appetite for current up to date happenings. Others of us don’t know nor do we care what is happening around us or around the world. Some of us get only what is available from the TV. We all are different aren’t we?

I look at the news paper on the internet. In Australia we have two major print companies. One is right wing with news more of national and international events and the other does cover some of this but is more local and trivial and quite left wing. Because I don’t subscribe to either I get the headlines and about 10 words pertaining to each article written. Mostly that is sufficient and if I need more information it is available from other internet souses including Yahoo and other search engines.

A woman named Marion once told me something about the news in a paper. Buy one each day, don’t read it, simply shelve it. Go back in 30 days and see what was important and then determine what value it represents to you. So much of the paper is padded with worthless junk and so many articles padded with unnecessary detail.

News is important to me but I don’t wish to sort through so much junk to get it. It is available without having to do this. Morning TV,in my opinion anyway is simply entertainment.

Do ask yourself, am I a news junkie. Could I be viewing more informative information. Only you have the answer.

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to coincide with the moon landing I am republishing my story number 357


Speewah 1968.

Speewah is a legendry outback property in Australia. Infact it is the name of an outstation attached to Dunham River Station in the East Kimberleys, south of the now well known tourist station of El Questro and south of Wyndham. North of Bow River on the Halls Creek road.
The year was1968 and I was the station pilot flying a brand new Piper Super Cub. My job was mustering cattle by air. It goes like this. A number of stockmen called Ringers would hold a mob of cattle we called coaches in a partly exposed position and I would run cattle into these coaches. The ringers would lay flat on their horses and the new cattle weren't aware at that moment they were being captured. Holding them wasn’t easy and it would take some time before they would settle and be moved on. Bulls were particularly difficult.
My memory has it there were eight ringers in that camp. One the head stockman whose name was John Collins who was the greatest exaggerator of facts and a bright lively story teller ( all lies) by the name of Vince Kelly whose claimed to have a celebrity sister. Paddy Carol, an aboriginal aged about 90 and Tiger. Paddy was important because he had local knowledge. He never rode faster than a walk and was addressed as “old man” as that was a title of respect. Paddy’s wife Mary, of comparable age, worked in the station kitchen. I never figured what she did but she was the “Queen of the Kitchen”.
On this particular day we had finished early and settled into dinner camp in the dry creek bed, about 100 yards from the old Speewah homestead. It was now rubble, tin and the original ant bed floor. A rocky outcrop on both east and west side. Well Collins and Kelly started their stories. Becoming more and more exaggerated, one endeavouring to out do the other. And as one would expect,mostly lies. Probably all lies. It was entertaining. I was 21 and was quite sucked in. Along comes Paddy Carol and Tiger who was carrying a portable radio. I can clearly recall what Paddy said, “maybe boss you might like to hear this”, one small step for man and one big one for mankind. You will know just what I am talking about. Well we all were intrigued. Blown away. We listened and listened repeatedly for a long time.
For some reason Paddy started talking about early days there at Speewah, where he had worked I figured, about 1918. The blacks used to spear the station cattle, seems like they developed a taste for beef. The station owner, a name many will recognise, had Paddy shoot the blacks. Blacks shooting blacks was not altogether uncommon. I was going to shoot this gin and piccaninny says Paddy but Mary hit me over the head with a billy can and laid me out. We all know a strike with a billy can would not lay a person out and I always figured Mary must have had it full with water or a good size rock in it. Well Paddy is laughing as he tells this story, each sort of giggle he’s jumping a little off his seat which would have been a stump or flour tin. Tiger wasn’t doing alot of laughing. Paddy seems to make the story fairly long winded and in the end tells us the piccaninny is Tiger, here with us today.
So here is a unique story. Man on the moon and man in our presents who shot blacks in this very same place we are now in the Speewah. The mythical land where men are big and work hard, bullocks grow big and one can erect many miles of new fencing each day. In fact there were no fences in the Speewah or any where else in the Kimberleys for that matter.
Now Tiger’s wife was also Mary which is a favourite name for gins. Station owners named the kids. Boys born during WW2 have a reoccurrence of Winston and Churchill. Some after a motor car manufacturer or aeroplane type. These station owners had great imaginations and may well have gone on to write labels for wine bottles . But that’s getting away from the story isn’t it. Tiger’s wife Mary was in the leprosarium near Derby WA. Tiger asks if I could please post a letter to her. Tiger could write even though the word leprosarium was written many times on the envelope. I would think a mission station had taught him. I commend the mission and also Tiger.
The aboriginals worked those days and they were likeable people. Welfare has degraded them like it does all people of all races.
A popular country and folk singer here in Australia named Slim Dusty has a song about Paddy from Turkey Creek. That is close by the Speewah and I have often wondered if it were Paddy Carol who was a gentle and proud person I once knew. I will never know now.

[woofa.express]

Rick could snore is still coming. Expect it within the next 2 days.

[woofa.express]

I put my thoughts on "Synthetic oils" and for those of you who may miss it I have pasted it here as well.

Synthetic oil ?

I seem to have a different opinion to other users. A buddy spoke about the positive benefits of synthetic oil in his aeroplane so I tried it in mine. The oil remained clean and after quite a number of hours I realised it wasn’t scavenging the carbon. I returned to the usual detergent oil and it got very black very quickly. I continued to change frequently until normality returned.
It is for this reason I never used it again. Has the composition changed? Or am I being obstinate? I have an open mind to logical criticism and positive suggestion.

Originally Posted by woofa.express

Yes Werner, I'd like to have your comments, however let me write,tomorrow, and I'll give you my thoughts and reasons and more details on oiltypes. cheers, gary

Rotor wrench also had some very pertinent comments on the subject as well.


Further to mycomments on Synthetic oil.

Following my input on synthetic oil I received a difference of opinion from my friend Mark and an enquiry from Werner, so please let me elaborate on my experience and reasoning.
The engine I had my experience on was a Continental IO520 in my Beech Bonanza. The I means injected and the O is normally aspirated, the 520 is the cubic inch capacity of the engine.
In all piston aeroplanes one has control on the fuel mixture for as one ascends the air becomes less dense thus the fuel requires leaning. It is recommended practice to run the mixture so as the exhaust gas temperature is 50 degrees F rich of peak temperature. Thus plugs and pistons will carbon over time. In past years avgas contained tetraethyl lead, and I think the same in motor spirit also. This created a build up of this lead in the cavity of the plugs and needed cleaning regularly. These days many pilots run 50 degrees lean of peak exhaust gas temperature and many have damaged their engines to the extent they need rebuilding. The reason being they should reduce power to accommodate this practice and they aren’t doing so. There are two traditional types of oil for these engines. 1, normal mineral oil which is recommended for newly overhauled engines, it has better lubricating properties, and 2, detergent oil which scavenges carbon. I found the synthetic oil was not scavenging the carbon so I returned to detergent oil and it was black in an abnormally short period. I continued to change the oil at short intervals until normality returned. I might add there is one way to clean all the carbon out of these engines. Fill the fuel tanks with Jet fuel (kero) and they become instantly clean, however the engines fail on or shortly after takeoff.
On radial engines it is common practice to keep the mixture lean on the low altitudes where I am accustomed to operating however I did lean off a little. I’d take the aeroplane for a flight at night and see the big blue flame which is unburned fuel. I’d lean off until the blue diminished butremained blue. I’d make a note or mark on the throttle quadrant and lean the mixture after takeoff to that position. On oil burn, I once bought 18x44gals of oil then took a Penzoil agency and lost it when I was told I didn’t purchase sufficient for an agency. I had purchased 72X44gals. The burn was about 1 gal per hour on a newly rebuilt engine which when settled in about 3 gals a day.
On gas turbine engines (jet) the mixture is controlled by a fuel control unit. This requires no pilot input. I thought it was Christmas when I purchased my turbine Airtractor. Easy engine management plus pilot comfort knowing engine failure was most unlikely. (Did you realise the big fan up front keeps the pilot cool, for when it stops the pilot gets very sweaty very quickly). Turbines use synthetic oil, it doesn’t get black and the reason is because it doesn’t get exposure to the fire place. The burn is less than 1 quart for a days work.
Maybe I should try synthetic oil in my town car but I would need convincing it has an advantage in a not so close tolerance built Model A engine. We are told so many lies by governments and commercial product manufactures I have become a sceptical person.

Are you sceptical? Do you believe all you are told?