TRUBBA
Lurching out to Mildura through a surprisingly green Victoria the van was starting to demonstrate signs of being unwell. The occasional shudder and cough boded ill but the prospect of some genuine coalface action helped to ignore it.
The Sandbar at Mildura was a good show, the hotel was sumptuous – well, better than a swag. We got away early and made for Pinnaroo, just over the South Australian border. By the time we got there an unsettling whine had set in somewhere deep in the bowels of the engine.
The show that night was way out in the drought-afflicted badlands and freezing cold, but made up for by Margaritas and scantily clad barmaids – it was a fancy dress party.
On the way home the van demonstrated that it either had some crossover strain of mutant mechano-equine flu or was in drastic trouble. It got us back to our beds in the Roadhouse, courtesy of Lewis, our properly spoken English host who woke up at 6 to cook us breakfast despite his prodigious consumption of beer, margaritas and black label bourbon at the shindig.
By now we had serious problems. The van was gulping oil feverishly and beginning to fart LPG – though it runs on dual fuel, we were only using the petrol. A smoking ban was swiftly ordered.
We struggled across Victoria for the next day, made it back to HQ in the late evening exhausted, strained. But we’d made it. NRMA and insurance would get us home and a new engine for the van, and we could finish this run. It’s tough at the coalface.
Next week, if we make it back, we play the Lismore show on the 18th and 19th. Stay tuned.




