THE DODGE

Our first motor vehicle was almost a rather stylish De Soto utility, but as my father’s farm diaries record, it ended up being a blocky, dark green Dodge (I secretly yearned for a car, but never mind). The ute was second hand, and I don’t remember how old it was.

The following entries are from May 1959, so as you can see we were very late to the world of private transport. Prior to this we used the Ulverstone firm of Holmes Taxis, or the trucks coming and going from our gravel pit.

Then there were our lovely neighbours (nearly all Dobson brothers), who all had motor vehicles long before we did and helped out on many occasions.

Yes, my father had one lesson when the ute was delivered, then drove it around the paddocks until he sort of got the hang of things. He picked up his licence on May 18 (no test involved). This explains why he was a dreadful driver all his life (sorry Dad). Once he even ran into a police car. 😎

The associated paperwork was also preserved within the pages of the diary;

On May 21 came the momentous entry. ‘ Drove family to Ulverstone in the ute.‘ Oh happy day! Having waited so long, we were inordinately proud of the ute, which my father immediately christened ‘The Bus’. We kids would polish it up until it glowed. Mind you, the paint seemed to lack fixative. Our cloths would be dark green by the time we finished; it’s a wonder the Dodge wasn’t pale green by the time Dad sold it.

It is hard to believe that I could only find one solitary photo of The Bus. This old shot was taken with our Box Brownie, in 1961. My mother Myra is in the cab. My siblings and I and visiting schoolfriends are in and around the tray. We were just home from a trip to the beach. Naturally we kids travelled unrestrained in the back,

My sister’s friend Norma (directly behind my mother) had once apologized when Robbie accompanied the Turner family on a Sunday drive. ‘It’s so boring Robyn, my parents just look at trees!‘ In stark contrast, we all adored the novelty of Sunday drives in the Dodge. Off we would go, usually to Dad’s old home of North Motton. The Methodist church was where my Uncle Maurice, a trainee minister, preached before he drowned in the nearby Leven River in 1925, aged 19. There is a memorial there to my Uncle Laurie, who died as a Japanese prisoner of War in WWII.

And on the site of the old house we sat on the stone front steps where daffodils and old roses still grew. I suspect the drives inspired my lifelong interest in family and social history. By the way Norma, we even liked looking at trees. 😍

On trips to visit to my mother’s relatives in Deloraine (the furthest we ever ventured) Dad set up an old, bench car seat for us, with a blanket to keep us warm in winter. We would mosey along very carefully as more experienced drivers backed up behind us. It was a great relief to Dad when we reached the half-way point of Sassafras, where we always stopped to buy lollies or ice-creams at the general store. My thanks to Dianne Perry for the following photo;

We, and especially my father, felt a special connection with Sassafras. It was where our paternal grandmother was born, and where our blacksmith/wheelwright Shadbolt relatives built prizewinning farm vehicles in the days before utilities became the workhorses for those on the land.

1965 – FAREWELL OLD GREEN BUS

Wednesday, March 7 – looked at red Dodge ute from Webster & Woolgrowers.

Thursday, March 8 – Took old ute to Devonport for trade-in, price £125

A Toyota ute followed the second Dodge By the time Dad bought a sedan I had a car of my own. 🚗

MORE ON FAMILY CONNECTIONS AT NORTH MOTTON

INFORMATION ON SASSAFRAS