Persistent women and the misery that comes from that

I’ve looking around for old Australian photographs of an Essex truck. I first learnt to drive in one of these back in the early 50's as a kid.

It had no bonnet, cabin or windscreen. The back consisted of a rough hewn timber tray.

The old girl was used to cart wheat bags, once we’d sown them up in the paddock.

As far as I can recall the truck never let us down, but was a mongrel of a thing to get going on a cold morning with crank starting. The old man use to heat up chaff bags early in the morning around the camp fire and wrap them around the fuel pump.

My first lesson with driving was to keep the thumb on the other side of the crank handle. Like any young fella I took no notice of the advice given, and finished up with a broken thumb (and a lot of Grizzling).

The old man wasn’t exactly the most forgiving man on this Earth, and that was when I learnt my second lesson in life, when he said; ‘I told you once son, I’m not going to tell you again’.

In hind sight this came from a man who had more injuries inflicted on him in the bush than any other I’ve known.

I’m getting off the point a bit. The daughter and the sister in QLD want to write a family history of our time in the bush, but we have little in the way of photographs.

So if anyone can provide me with a photograph of an old Essex truck in the Australian bush it would be appreciated.

Many thanks

Kim