Home Coming

I slide the key into the ignition and turn; the engine thunders into life. The motor rumbles in idle, a beast trying to break free of its cage. The whole frame shudders with the force of it; the windows rattle in their bindings. A touch on the accelerator and the beast is released, surging onto the open road and carrying me with it.

This is my new home. A hostel on wheels, as my mate Pete described it after seeing the photos. A 1989 four-wheel-drive, beast of a Holden Jackaroo. The back seat has been ripped out and replaced with a wooden bed frame. It's the kind of car only a backpacker could love and there's no doubt it's seen its fair share of backpacker lovin' in its day.

It's time I discover my own country and this vehicle is (hopefully) going to let me do just that. As usual I have no real plans and my trip is being driven by nothing more concrete than the weather. South is cold, north is warm: north it is. I'll head up the East coast to start with and then head inland from there, making it up as I go. I've no conservation work lined up, but I hope to find some on the way.

The previous owners of the car, an English backpacker couple, nicknamed it 'able'. I never found out why but I think 'willing' might be a better name for it at this stage of its life. I think the guy who did the safety inspection put it best, "take oil, take lots of oil."