Tales from Down Under

[Cormanus]

Sometimes it’s hard to tell where stories begin and end. At first I thought this one began with the note hurled through my window at some ungodly hour of the night. There was a brick tied to the note which explained how was able to propel itself through the glass. It said simply:

“COLES EXPRESS.
MANGO HILL. 10 AM.
BE THERE.”

Which is why just after 0830 in the cool of the morning I was heading south on the ambitiously titled M1. While I was weary and a bit apprehensive, it was a glorious morning and I felt pretty good. Was it simply the unbearable lightness of CB-ing, or was it the curious fact that my credit card had mysteriously become a great deal lighter?

Of course, the story didn’t start with the note. It started here. On this very forum. With this post:

Who could resist an offer like this? Not me. Not at the time anyway. I’d ordered some (see [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=5445&pid=84742#pid84742]here). But, of course, I’d forgotten.

The Coles Express, Mango Hill is an example of a curious modern phenomenon: a petrol station which, while it sells petrol, sells little else that has to do with motoring. You can buy a pack of crisps, weed killer, toothpaste, procreative prophylactics, a take-away coffee, breakfast cereal, milk, toilet paper—the list goes on—but try to find an oil filter, a set of jumper leads or an automotive light bulb and you could be in strife.

Coles is half of what is essentially a supermarket duopoly in Australia. It and its other half, Woolworths, are determined to shoehorn their way into almost every aspect of retailing. As a result they’ve bought up service stations where they can flog a bit of petrol and a lot of groceries and try to bind you to them by offering paltry discounts on fuel. Their minnow competitors have joined the fun. And not one of them is a bit of use if you want something for your car or motorbike.

I pulled into Coles Mango Hill and a bulb exploded in my head. For there in all his leather-clad finery was none other than the great Dr Dactyl. He grinned hugely and shook me exuberantly by the hand. I’d have probably have behaved like that too if I’d relieved my credit card of the amount he’d trousered.

We drained the crappy Honda Oil from the CB all over the concourse of Coles Mango Hill and filled it with 4 litres of the precious HUBRIS multigrade. I’ll write a full report on it in a few months when the bike comes back from the workshop.

He grinned again. “We’d better get out of here before they want us to clean up the mess. Take me for a ride.”

By then I was beginning to wonder exactly who was being taken for a ride, but I obediently turned my front wheel to the west and we were out of there.