My Bags Are Backed, I Am Hitch Hiking And It's Illegal!

This trip took Eleven rides and the stories of these rides are epic...Issue #99

ifOnlyi…could remember all the rides, but below are the ones that will keep you engaged with laughter and some shocking details. This issue brought back memories I thought had long been forgotten.

Before I embarked on my journey to see more of Australia, several parties were thrown as farewell events. My roommate Jimbo, who was a banker of sorts during the day, when he chose to work. He was also a grinder on a 12-meter racing Yacht. He got his crew together to take me out on the Harbor one more time for some fun in the sun!

We had a blast; the speeds we were going through the ocean were impressive. I never felt anything so beautiful and terrifying at the same time, but this was my second time out with him on Gretel II. After the day on the sea, they all took me out to have some drinks, which was a regular event after a day at sea with these men. We sat and drank pitchers of Bundy Rum ( the most famous rum in Australia) and Coke. They were served in Pitchers, and I thought only Beer came in a pitcher.

Everyone needed to stay until it was their turn to buy a pitcher. So if 12 people were drinking and you were the last to buy, well, you had to stay. Unless someone jumped up and bought another round, it would start all over again. This was one of those days—one round after another.

After drinking, a few of us went to a party that my roommate’s friend had invited him to. There were about 60 people present that late afternoon. Music was loud and everyone was having a great time, but then came a time when I had had enough sun, saltwater, and Bundy rum. I decided to sneak off and look for a place to sleep in this stranger’s house. I had no idea I would go to the owner’s bedroom and fall asleep in her bed, but I did just that.

Where was Ollie? People couldn’t find me as I was passed out in a place no one thought to look. I was out cold! The next thing I recall was waking up in the morning sun blazing through the bedroom window. I managed to get up and saw that Jimbo was sitting, having coffee with his wife. “Ollie, how are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Not the best, Jimbo. What happened?” I quipped. “Well, you were sound asleep in the owner's bed, and I couldn’t get you to wake up. So I threw you over my shoulders, put you in the jeep, and drove us home.” He explained. After all, he was a 400-pound beast of a man, so I’m sure 175 pounds was like carrying a fly for him. “I then lifted you over my shoulders again and walked you up the three flights of stairs and put you back in YOUR bed!

“I'm so sorry, I'm just not used to the amount of drinks you all had throughout the day and night. Am I owing anyone apologies?” I said sheepishly. “Naw, you're all good, and you were funny until you disappeared on us all. By the way, Ollie, we sold a dozen of your shirts.” This was one of many sayings I used to use.

“I’m laughing, shirts?” I asked! “Yes, everyone loved the saying you used, and here’s your half of the money.” Fantastic, I needed this for my travels.

Tonight was going to be a party with a date at Rogues, I was off work, and the staff wanted me to enjoy dancing and say goodbye.

During my time at Rogues that night, everyone was having such a great time, and I had been dancing most of the night, drinking free drinks. I decided to return to the main lounge and sit, getting some much-needed rest. My date was chatting away with some of her friends back in the Dance club.

I started chatting up a beautiful lady. I mean, I was in Awe! I so wanted to go out with her, and I knew I would be leaving in the next two days. Was there a chance? I don’t think so. I got her number and gave her mine in California. I knew it was just a fantasy to believe she would want to go out, and I was being kind by giving her my number back home.

That night, Peter Simpson, the other owner of Rogues, asked me to come to his restaurant, located on the water and called “Simpsons”, for lunch the next day.

Wow, that is such a kind offer. I will be there, Peter. After all, I had worked for him and Lee for five months; maybe this was a thank-you meal.

When I arrived for lunch the next day, Peter walked me to a table, sat down, handed me a menu, and offered a drink. This was a beautiful restaurant, offering high-end, upper-quality dining with white tablecloths and polished silverware. I had never been there before. Peter began thanking me for an excellent job I had done, and then went on to discuss the previous night.

He said that I was trying to pick up his girlfriend inside the main lounge, and he didn’t appreciate it at all. “Peter,” I said, “How was I to know she was your girlfriend? She was alone.” “Yes, Ollie, I left to do some work with Lee upstairs, and I heard that you were exchanging numbers when I got back down. I didn’t want to make a scene or discuss it on your goodbye night, but you need to know that it was not at all something I expected from you,” he said sternly.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say as I downed my drink as fast as possible to take the edge off my stress.

Peter then offered me a job behind the bar in the restaurant, should I ever come back. So I receive a verbal reprimand, and then I get a job offer at the same time. Thank you is all I could say at that moment.

The food was incredible, no wonder he was successful—two of the best restaurants in Sydney. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that his girlfriend was someone I could marry. She was everything on the outside that I liked, and kind on the inside, too. Oh, well, I was leaving, anyway.

The day before I was to leave, I was upstairs in my apartment, and I had so many knocks on the door; each time I opened it, it was another one of the girls I had dated wanting to say goodbye. There must have been fifteen different people, including one with whom I got along well from Tasmania. Yes, I dated a girl from Tasmania, how cool is that! She didn’t want me to leave, but I had no choice; it became a continuing event of more sadness at each knock. I just wanted to put on the door saying Ollie doesn’t live here anymore. It was just too much to take in.

It was the morning of my departure, so I grabbed my bags and suitcases and took the slow walk down the stairs.

I pointed my finger out, just as I had been told to do, and my journey into the unknown began. The first car that stopped asked where I was going. “Surfers Paradise”, I replied. He quickly laughed and said, “Mate, I am driving about ten miles over the bridge into the city center.” “GREAT, I’ll take the ride, please. Ten miles is 10 miles, and it’s a start.” I answered happily. He said, “You do realize that you're about 850 km away. Why not take a flight? It’s only a one-hour and 20-minute flight.” “I suppose I know I’m doing it the hard way, but I do want to see the country rather than fly over it,” was my reply.

I get dropped off and start pointing my finger out at cars again. This didn't feel very comfortable, as I was pointing at people rather than using my thumb, like what we did back home. My next car that stopped asked me where I was going, “Surfers Paradise!” I told him. He said he was driving to school and could take me about 50 km. Fantastic, another ride, I’ll take it. He drops me off, and I get out once again, and I am dreading the finger pointing at cars again, but I do. This time, I get picked up by two elderly couples in an ancient pickup truck. I think they were older than the truck; I have to guess somewhere in their 80s.

The inside of the truck was tiny, and the lady got out of her seat and asked me to sit in the middle. “Ollie,” she says he can’t see so well, so I was hoping you could help him steer as he is driving.” OH! Holy shit he was all over the place and I grabbed the steering wheel from the middle seat and held on steering the truck.

This went on for about another 50 km. He pulls over and says, “Honey, it’s your turn to drive.” I am still sitting in the middle seat, and she was very short, perhaps age has taken its toll on her. However, she had to push the bench seat forward so close that I felt my face against the dashboard.

She could steer, thankfully, but had a hard time with braking and shifting the gears. She wasn’t strong enough any longer, so I had to tell her when to push in the clutch, and I did the shifting as well. When she needed to brake, I told her in advance to start pressing the pedal and slow down as I was downshifting for her. This was taking a massive toll on my heart rate. I was concerned that this was my last ride. How in the world did I get myself into this mess? Push, brake, shift, stop, all while her husband was yelling over me to tell her what to do as if it were a regular event. I think she had lost quite a bit of her hearing as well.

We were driving through hills and windy roads, and I was sure that at the speed she was driving, I would miss my flight in two weeks back home. Ten miles per hour, maybe 12, she was driving, with people honking and passing their old yellow truck. It must have been their first and only truck they bought, and like “Old Yellow the dog,” they were not changing it for nothing. Would I ever get to my destination? After 100 km, I had to admit I needed to get out; I was worried that they might not even make it to their destination.

God help them!

Next, I was in a gas station, and I thought it was the best place for me to leave them and try for another ride. Within an hour, two girls driving an MG pulled over and asked, “Where are you going?” I looked in their car, and wondered where the hell I was going to sit. The car was full of their personal belongings. I told them there’s no room for my luggage and me, as it is a two-seater. No worries, they said, and got out, got some rope, tied my stuff to the roof, and shoved the rest under the seats and behind their seats. Great, now where would I sit?

In between the stickshift, Ollie!

I know that God was involved with this experience, as nothing was going in my favor. Grateful for the rides and distance so far. I put my left leg on the left side and my right leg on the driver’s side, splitting me in half. The stick shift was right smack in the middle of my crotch. Ouch! These girls were coming out of school, getting ready for their time off, which is why their car was so packed. They were driving to stay at their boyfriend’s house, and said I could stay with them overnight as it was getting late. So I was Blessed, yeah!

That night, we all started a BBQ, and drinks were flowing. They were happy campers, and I was their amusement for the night. After eating and drinking, they all wanted to go out. But I had a problem, that problem was my good eye, with the one contact I had was hurting and very painful. I begged to pass for the night and hoped they would entrust me to stay in their home alone.

The next morning, I woke up to find that my eye was infected. They offered to take me to an eye doctor and drop me off. Perfect! The Doctor was fantastic; he found out that I had conjunctivitis. A new word for me, but he handed me medicine, and he was fascinated by my journey and learning about my life in California. He said everything was FREE of charge.

So now I am standing outside once again, with my finger pointing for help, holding all my luggage tightly. All I needed was another ride to keep getting closer to my destination, hopefully arriving safely.

After a lengthy wait, an old VW bug pulled over, and the driver asked me where I needed to go. “Surfers Paradise, please,” I replied. “No, I am not going there. I can take you as far as I can, but I need to do a few errands first,” she said. “Okay,” I replied as I had no choice but to agree.

I opened her passenger’s door and went to put my luggage in the back seat when I noticed around twenty empty mixed cocktail cans on the floor of the passenger area. The glove compartment was broken and hanging down as it wouldn’t shut. I had to make a decision and wondered: Will we die? How much has she drunk? When did she drink all those cans?

I chatted a few more minutes with her before deciding to jump in and take the chance, a stupid chance perhaps! First, we stopped at the vet’s to see her dog, who had been hit by a car. I'm still in shock that the dog was in almost a full cast. I thought my one good eye was playing tricks with my vision, so I had to leave the room. It was too much for me to handle.

We stayed for 2 hours. What the heck! I was walking and talking with strangers, wondering if I could get another ride, but they all said no. Finally, she got back into the car, and I knew I needed to get off somewhere, as I had no clue where she was going next.

She offered to see if she could help me get a ride at a local truck gas station. She pulled in and got out. The weird thing was that she kept getting in and out of the different trucks that were there, either filling up with gas or resting. But after half an hour, she came back to the car and said, “No luck,” as the drivers knew it was illegal to pick up hitchhikers. I thanked her and said I would take a chance hanging in front of the station, hoping to get a ride.

The next few hours passed by, and I saw a big Mercedes-Benz pull over. I ran to the car as the driver rolled down his window. I asked, “Any chance I could get a lift to Surfers Paradise?”

“Yes, I will be passing right by. Get on in,” he says. He introduces himself, and I do the same. “Ollie,” he says, “I don’t normally pick up strangers, but something told me you're okay.” It turns out that he shared the following about his life with me during the drive. Fantastic man, Amazing Dreams, Amazing fortitude, Amazing life!

I was sitting beside the Founder of DREAMWORLD, John Longhurst, who had purchased 210 acres of land back in 1974. Not only did he excavate the land, but his sons also worked alongside him for 12 hours per day and opened the theme park with the only IMAX MOVIE THEATER in all of Australia.

John also hired two of the top people from Disneyland and Disney World USA to help him design and develop the Australian version of Disneyland. This was something he loved passionately, and sharing this personal story with me revealed how deeply he cared about his dream, which came alive when he opened the doors on December 15, 1981.

Now I was with him in January 1983, and it had already been two years since he opened his doors, and his dream had come true.

John was a humble man who accomplished massive undertakings and did back-breaking work to make it all happen.

During our drive, he was pulled over by a police officer for speeding. He was not at all pleased. But even after getting a costly ticket for high-speed driving, he was kind enough to offer me a day in his park. He told me that when I visit, I should ask for his secretary, and she will take me around and show me the park.

What will my Dad say when I tell him this story, considering he was very close to Walt Disney back in the 1960s?

I arrived safely in Surfers Paradise after 4 hours with John. I shook his hand and said I hoped to see him soon, as I would be making my way to Dreamworld, which was only 22 km away, but first, I needed a place to sleep, once again!

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ifOnlyi…short stories follow my true-life journey. If you've just found me, you can check out my publication and choose a story of interest or start from # 1.