The 1960s EJ Holden was a stellar vehicle with lots of style. So much so that it is still spoken of with much admiration, even today. Well folks we had one. Not in the 60s come on! No, some 10 years later when the price was more the style that we were looking for. It became the vehicle in which most of us kids had at least some driving lessons most prior to the Governments allowable age. Now, just one car together with a family of license holding teenagers, saw to it that Mum and Dad found themselves at home most every weekend standard, rather than by choice. Our EJ had a lime green roof (yes Tom, most of the planet called that colour green not brown) and a cream speckled body colour. Although when it was washed, on those rare occasions when a date with the opposite sex was a possibility, it did reveal a more brilliant whiter hue. In its early life with us it was a grand transporter of people. Most Sundays saw it carry our family of 8 the 40 minutes to Coopers church and sometimes even return with friends a highly irregular act, in our much more safety conscious society of today. Still, traveling arrangements were worked out so that everyone found a comfortable niche to call their own. My maths has it that 3 in the front and 4 in the back should only leave a remainder of 1. Well the remainder, Pip, would stretch out on the back ledge, giving him the only sleeper available on that long ride home on Sunday nights. Various games were invented and played with much vigour too much vigour! One game called corners, involved maximizing the effects of the centrifugal forces at work as the car would turn sharply to the left and right. That member on the outside of the row of 4, would lever off the door and with the help of the natural forces could extract such wonderful squashing sounds from the other three travellers mostly uurrrrrr. Conversely, the inflictor became the squashee on any subsequent corner turning in the opposite way. Mostly of these games would end once someone got hurt, but if not, they were sometimes stopped by our exasperated Dad. This was dramatically achieved by pulling up and ordering all of us, including our friends, out of the car. Huddled together on the road’s edge, we would watch silently as our survival transport system drove off and out of sight. Just part of a new adventure for David but a real sobering sobbing stressful event for our younger members. Still, I remember completing my first walk over the Story Bridge on just such an occasion. Well it worked, cause when we were picked up again most of us just sat in silence apart from the occasional recovering sniffles being expressed by the younguns. By it’s fifteenth year this stylish transporter was showing signs of wear. None more obvious than the sight of the speeding road passing under your feet as you sat in the back seat. Rust! That cruel cancerous invader of all car bodies had eaten out our back seat tread plates. Dad had no mind to spend huge sums of money on its much needed repair. No, he solved the potentially dangerous structure one Saturday morning, by pouring some concrete left over from the new driveway installation, 3 inches deep over the back tread plates there, problem solved! The EJ finally gave up the ghost and came to rest as a sort of memorial outside our Gawalla Street home at The Gap. It stayed there unmoved and detested until a young mechanic, Dessie Lyons, asked my Dad one day How much for the EJ, Henry? Dad looked out at the vehicle that had served us so well and knowing the special cement features of the car, had no heart for commerce If you can take it it’s yours. Dessie got a few more good years out of this now collectors only vehicle, and by hotting it up made it into what he termed – a chic magnet.
