pinkish glow of the vehicle ’ s rump much more visible than the front ; the slimline roof bar and stickerless bonnet providing a degree of concealment . A stationary red P plater , forlornly parked on the side of the road , the driver ’ s head drooping over the steering wheel , evidence of the most recent ‘ life saving ’ work performed .
Cruise control is my friend , set on the speed limit , the opportunity to immerse myself in the passing scenery , crossing the Krui River beneath the majestic ‘ Collaroy Station ’, holding a commanding position on high ground .
Merriwa Railway Station , a shadow of its former self , provided an opportunity for a photo , a drink , and a snack . A smoke like haze hung on the horizon . It was summer , but the smell of bushfire was not in the air . Quite the opposite , water pooled on the roadside , seeped from cuttings , and rushed along perennial water courses .
Small outposts dotted the roadway , remnants of once thriving towns like Bunnan , the local school now a paddock of shoulder high weeds , the single wooden building lying dormant and vulnerable . Evidence of a camp draft arena and tennis courts succumbing to the ravages of time , mother nature and dwindling populations . Riding into Scone I saw a town trying to be more than what it really was . Outlying residential areas , a competition of big gates , manicured lawns , and expensive vehicles . The main street , formerly the New England Highway , was now a scene of empty shops , and minimal traffic . I wondered how many Thai massage places and $ 2 shops it took to make a town ?
Wanting to avoid the ‘ slab ’ of boring bitumen that is the New England Highway , I headed towards Gundy , passing the Linga Longa Pub , a magical spot beside Pages River , a healthy crowd of people and vehicles
TRAVERSE 153