A window is half down, usually the driver's side, most of the old cars don't have electric windows and when you think about leaning over to spin down the passenger glass you unknowingly drift over to the other persons lane. If you're lucky there is no one, if your.... lucky again and want a laugh, you will get some guy buzzing his top gear horn, who is freaking out because you almost swerved into his shiny rims and his V8 turbines... That's about as car talk as I can get.
This however is only the setting for this observation. The familiar highway stretch along the north of Byron was one that I used to spin my wheels along on a sunset basis. It's a wicked stretch of tracks as it cuts through all sorts of country jazz from hills and sugar cane fields to glimpses of the East-coast oceans to little German looking huts which were bird whistling quiet, until the highway truck route got directed their way and their Jägermeister porch offered no further serenity.
I've travelled hear in the clock hours of the early mornings where the music and empty roads send you off into a thoughtful pattern of ridiculous ideas. One spot I always passed was this tall, man-created hill. I always thought the views up there would stretch from Nania to Las Vegas. The only question was, what to shoot up there? I never came up with a clear idea, but as we established, when you tell a friend of the location it takes one moment to grab a prop - jump in the old wheels - swerve up the highway past the shiny rims - pull over - jump over a koala built bent high fence - dodge spiders in the almost dark shrubs - reach the summit - and be absolutely on edge for the next 20minutes (both figuratively and literally).
It's not a comfortable feeling having one of your best curly headed mates sitting at the edge of a death drop, but once your done and you both stand up top looking out to the wardrobe... it's a fucking good feeling.
Now it's dark, back through the spiders, koala fences......