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Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions Pt2

WARNING: Tonights episode of National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation features strong language, themes of hopelessness and despair and a confronting look at the cruel hand that fate plays in all our lives. A hand that sometimes slaps.

Welcome back folks.

When last we left our intrepid family they had survived trials and tribulations to arrive finally in the vicinity of their destination and having secured clear and simple instructions on how to get to the actual location of their accommodations were ready to set out on what surely would be the final leg of their journey. Let's rejoin our heroes now as they once more set forth in search of shelter.

Episode 2: The Road Goes Ever On... And On...

Just to quickly refresh your memories the instructions were:

"Turn right out of the driveway here *points to driveway*, go to the top of the road where the pub ends and turn left onto Singleton Rd. It's about 3kms down Singleton."

And so it was with a last longing look back at the well manicured grounds of the motor inn and their silent promise of a complete lack of spider incursion that I turned the car towards the heavily wooded (and with out any shred of doubt in my mind, lacking in even a scrap of hope for getting through the weekend without at least one - likely multiple - horrifying spider encounters) Singleton Rd and started to become seriously concerned that I had made a grave error in my choice of venue.

But I didn't have time for worrying about that right now, I had to find this God-forsaken road and travel its length in search of our final destination. Quickly, if I didn't want my wife to make it more final than I would like. When Mari becomes tired, she either becomes extremely cranky (well actually, Hitler was cranky, Mari is more like what Cate Blanchett would have turned into in Lord Of The Rings if she had taken up the One Ring) or completely loopy and hysterical (in a good way). Fortunately God smiled on me this night and she became the latter. For what transpired next was definitely a 'laugh or throttle your husband' type of thing.

We got onto Singleton Rd and I reset the trip meter once more so that we would know when we were approaching the distance at which we were assured our target was located. About 1km along the road the moon broke gloriously from behind a mountain on the far side of the Hawksbury River and I gazed at it in awe. Pointing it out to Mari, she cried "Stop the car, stop the car! I will take a picture!". I slowed down and found a spot to pull off to the side of the narrow road and she took several pictures in which the moon was completely indistinguishable from a tiny spot of lint.

Realizing the futility of trying to take a picture of the moon without an SLR, tripod, time for a long exposure etc we gazed upon it in rapture for a half a minute, sighed at the tranquility of the moment in the middle of the whirlwind adventure we had thus far suffered, and I pulled the car back onto the road to continue our quest for shelter.

As I drove off I spied a sign just ahead and to the right of the car next to a driveway curving back from the road and away into the darkness, it read "Exit Only". I thought to myself "Wow, someone must have a big house if they have incoming and outgoing driveways!" and continued on down the road looking left and right for our destination.

3kms came and 3kms went and the Forgotten Valley Retreat did neither as far as we could see. But no matter, it was after all, only a rough estimate. Press on!

And so we did.

We pressed on... and on... and on some more.

And long after, it was apparent that we must have missed it. But it was too late by then as we had both succumbed to that addictive psychosis of "Just one more bend. Just one more set of driveways. Maybe this one will be it." We passed a "No through road" sign and though "ahh the road will end and we will be free from this torture to turn around and start looking backwards!".

But the road went ever onward.

The sign lied.

We wondered if it stretched all the way back to Sydney. Surely we would at least make it back to Hornsby soon... again. We fantasized that it was in fact the night before out trip and we were asleep, dreaming or rather having a nightmare about the coming weekend.

Suddenly, up ahead! Is that an urban looking wall?! It is! It MUST be the Forgotten Vall... no it's not. It's just some city folks who moved to the country and said "bugger this crappy wooden, falling down fencing thing. We're building a wall baby! With shiny new red bricks!!!". I bet they cleared the damned spider infested trees from around the property too! *8'(

At the 12km mark I tore myself free from the grasp of the need to see just beyond the river bend, stopped the car and got Mari to ring the proprietors once more (at 1am). Turns out they're 500m from the start of Singleton Rd.

So after an extended bout of apoplexy I turned the car around and headed back the way we had come, lo those many years ago. After what seemed like a second eternity but was merely another 20 minutes in reality (small road, not very even, not doing top speed, you understand) we approached the spot about 500 meters from the start of Singleton Rd (according to the car's trip meter) and upon finding the landscape thereabouts hauntingly familiar, a thought most terrible entered my brain and nested there like... you guessed it... a big... fat... hairy... EVIL!!!... spider. And began to chitter at me.

Slowing to a crawl I saw, to my left now, the "Exit Only" sign. The very same sign I had wondered on eons before. Passing it I now saw, just beyond, the back of a much larger sign... and my eye began to twitch. Passing it I stopped, put on my reverse lights, steeled myself and looked in the rear view mirror.

Horror.

HORRORRRR!!!!

"Forgotten Valley Retreat" read the ENORMOUS sign.

Turning my head and looking back over my other shoulder, away from the sign, I silently cursed the moon that had so long ago given with one hand, only that it may kick me in the bollocks with the other foot. A blow I would not feel for many leagues to come.

You see, the appearance of her majesty from behind the mountain (sooooo long ago) had caused me to turn my head to the left JUST at the right moment to completely miss the fucking sign I needed to see, to not drive 12 fucking kms down the God-damned road to nowhere!!!! Oh yes! Round one to you you celestial bitch! But just you wait until we get our moon program back on track! We're gonna mine the crap out of you.

Gonna cut you DEEP baby! Oh yes!

Well that's it for this episode folks. Tune in next time for :

Episode 3: Battle! Hell Unleashed (And A Hasty Retreat)

5 comments:

Mat said...

Can I possibly interest you in the advantages of purchasing a sufficiently detailed local MAP when driving to rural areas??

Pillocks.

Tony said...

Got one. The GPS had perfectly detailed maps. Just didn't have Forgotten Valley Retreat written on it. But neither would a local street map.

Mat said...

www.street-directory.com.au has both the restaurant and the retreat marked on it. The images are taken from the Sydway paper maps. A GPS taken on short notice with little charging is a risky proposition. You are a buffoon. ;)

Anonymous said...

Oh you can't tell me this gets worse... I can't wait for the next installment!! Spud you have an amazing talent at explaining things in such a comical and intelligent manner :)

Tony said...

Thanks for the support Spudette, I appreciate it very much. I'm glad you are enjoying our tale.