Chivalry is a Log Truck Driver !
by Dawn Simpson
This anecdote was published in a column entitled 'Grumpy Old Woman' in our local newspaper.
Chivalry is a Log Truck Driver!
Thank god for Kevin, that's all I can say!
Girls, have you noticed that as old age arrives, your strength seems to diminish?? It can be so #@*!! frustrating! I'll tell you just how frustrating it can be, by relaying what happened last Tuesday.
Myself and my three grey haired, 50 years + sisters, headed off down the Prince's Highway for one of the grey brigade to attend a doctor's appointment in Bega.
If we ever head down that way, we always stop off at the Cobargo cemetery, to have morning tea with our granny who is buried there.
Our granny, 'Milly', died when she was only 25, leaving our Mum an orphan at 10 days old. So, though we never got to meet her, we like to visit her in the cemetery. So visualize this....four women, three of which have a full head of grey hair, in the Cobargo cemetery, with a picnic of very ample proportions set up on granny's grave.
Cups at the ready with tea bags in,lamingtons, banana cake, lumberjack cake and cheese and crackers thrown in for good measure, (we all have 'energetic and enthusiastic' appetites!!!) when a catastrophe happens.
The catastrophe being, not ONE of us had the strength to get the lid off the darn vacuum flask!! The eldest sister, (we call her 'the matriarch'), grabbed it off the youngest sister but alas, she couldn't move it. The middle sister grabbed it, convinced that she had the strength, as she gardens for everyone in the neighborhood and wields a pretty hefty spade, but no. The second eldest, convinced that she would move it, waited patiently for her turn, smiling like a sly cat, thinking she would be the triumphant one but STILL no lid off the thermos! By now, we had worked up a decent thirst and we were desperate.
Now there are not many folk that can help you in a cemetery, so I suggested that the next truck we saw come down the very long, steep hill leading into Cobargo, I would wave down to help us.
'You can't do that !', all three yelled.
I've never been what you would call 'shy' and I don't believe in standing around waiting for a miracle, especially in a cemetery, so I walked over to the road, armed with the thermos and left the other three gaping from the graveyard.
Several cars and trucks avoided eye contact with me as I held the thermos high and made a few hand gestures towards the thermos. I am giving them the benefit of the doubt, I think they hurried past because they already had their morning tea organized and honestly thought I was inviting them to join us in the cemetery for a cuppa.
Next minute, down the hill came an enormous logging truck. The driver saw me waving the thermos and STOPPED!! He climbed down out of his big rig and said 'What's up love?'
I said 'Oh please don't swear at me or think me mad, but my sister's and I are on our way to Bega and stopped off here to have morning tea with our granny...etc' I could see him looking for granny, so I explained about Milly and our thermos predicament.
It was about then that I thought he would take off but this man among men took the thermos, one flick of his well muscled arms and the lid was off! I invited him to stay and have a cuppa and a lamington but he was obviously in a hurry because I have never seen a truckie climb back into his rig, quite so quickly. I did manage to relay to my sisters waiting in the distant graveyard that his name was 'Kevin'; so as he took off, four grey haired, little old ladies called gaily,
'Bye Kevin and Thank you Kevin'
Kevin, oh Kevin, what a man, what muscles, what chivalry !!!!