It was the day after Speech Day and an early morning rise dawned upon me. I had mildly forgotten that a 41/2-hour journey lay ahead of me. This was soon rectified as I heard the wearing engine of Michael Garretty's car limp him and his travelling essentials up my driveway. This car was to be the chariot of our adventure to Seal Rocks.
We were both fairly tired just coming out of a year of school, but we were both charged with the thought of 12 days at the beach with no hierarchal figure, apart for the decisions that Mother Nature would place upon us with regards to the weather.
I loaded the Suby with clothes, a tent and other things that would keep me alive on the journey, and before we knew it we were rolling out of the front gate, clear headed with only a bitumen maze ahead of us. Our journey had begun.
Two hours into the journey, after a lengthy conversation on what we were going to do, we ran into, or almost ran into, our first incident on the trip. We were driving through Penrith and a tricky intersection blessed us with its presence. Gaz asked me if we were clear to turn, and without even looking I murmured, "Just go u fag", as I fiddled with the CD player. .
A split second later, a blue sported-up Ford Focus screeched to a stop narrowly missing side swiping us by a couple of metres. I laughed hysterically then looked at Gaz who's already pale skin had become somehow even whiter. A close call that we had luckily escaped without injury.
We headed out of Penrith and travelled along the M4 arguing about the exit to the North Coast, which fortunately, I was positive about. Before we knew it, we found ourselves hurtling down the Pacific Highway, but unfortunately in horrendous conditions. .
It was raining heavily and to this point this had caused us no grief until just north of Broken Bay where a rogue semi-trailer attempted to make us part of the sandstone dividing walls that are found along many parts of the freeway.
