This story is about a classic experience that most farm kids would have experienced back in the days when you weren’t wrapped up in cotton wool… getting towed behind a bike riding a bonnet of a car at break neck speed. The more freaked out we were the better aye?! Bloody lucky really as Dad was a panel beater and we had a couple of spares lying around, perfect!

Yep, we had the car bonnet from ‘narm’. Not very pleasing to the eye but man, we could get catapulted at sudden right angles on the damn thing like a massive rubber band! Looking back on it now, we could have waxed the bottom of it to break the sound/speed barrier and gotten closer to the heavens with our death defying maneuvers haha!

Picture this…. a wickedly over sized helmet, ‘hory-boryarlus’ rope, a farm bike and a clapped out old bonnet beyond repair. When we could be bothered we wore over sized ski goggles or sunglasses to stop the bugs and crap shooting into our eyeballs! And to top it off… if the cows had been in the paddock previously then we got shit flung up from the wheels of the bike! Nice, that’s what people love (sarcasm), shit in the face! But, no matter how many cow patties hammered us we waited impatiently for our turn to face the same punishment, loving every minute of it! Screaming and laughing our tits off with mouths wide open…idiots. Continue reading »

Ngawha, Northland, New Zealand. This location was basically my 2nd home and is where the next New Zealand story is derived from. I used to help on my best mates Marae in the kitchen and I made a damn good coleslaw I might add. Used to strap on the gloves and shell oyster after oyster. One for me, one for the pot, one for me, one for the pot. The blokes laid down the Hangi (earth oven, traditional Maori cooking in the ground, bloody yum I tell ya!).

Sometimes when there were 100′s of people staying we would have to set up beds in an old school up The Lane near the Marae. The school has been retired of its services for many years now, and the families/friends who rest their heads on the pillows were protected by the spirits of the elders/forefathers who have passed. This old school was up The Lane, a short rickety road with homes of the Whanau (families)dotted on both sides. Dogs tied up with a bit of rope or roaming to scavenge what they could find, and kids hooning around outside in their own world. Continue reading »

Have you ever wondered why some farmers aptly name their pet animals after a dish on their plates? Well, I don’t have an answer either ok? But I can tell you now that is what we used to call our sheep up on our farm in Ohaeawai, NZ.

He was a ram and to us kids he was a grumpy bastard with big nuts that used to hang down past his ‘knees’. Dunno how he managed to run with those a knockin’ from side to side… but he could run like the wind if he could smell the scent of fear. We weren’t supposed to get to the cowshed via the main road as we may have been mistaken for road kill from time to time, so we had to cross Lamb Chops paddock to make our way to the hay barn and cowshed. Continue reading »

The day started with rain, rain and more rain. Woke up breathing first (good start to the day I reckon) then after the morning thing, jumped on the school bus to go to school. Our bus had to cross a rickety bridge, not that we thought that at the time as it was just a bridge…..sweet! Now the local farmers used to keep an eye on the water levels as the river would rise so high that it would spill over the bridges and make it nearly impossible to get to and from home. They would call the school and there would be an announcement “Otaua bus pupils, please go to the hall”. So we were obviously peeved that we had to finish the school day early to go home….. NOT! Classmates were so envious as they would say stuff like “oh man, can we come to your place bro?” etc etc. Some of the gifted ones would be like “course you ca………..’nt”. Hooning out of the classroom ‘woohooing’ and all that jazz, yeh rubbing salt into wounds so to speak hehe. Continue reading »