Good and bad cable car memories
THANKS for letting me have a day off yesterday. It was much appreciated. To start off a rather belated week, I thought we could return to the topic of Dunedin’s cable cars.
I’ve had lots of warm, rosetinted memories sent in of childhood trips on the cable cars. But I’ve also had a few recollections of the dangers of sitting on the outside of the moving cars.
Bev McLean, of Cromwell, has sent in this moving, and frightening, story of being on board with her friend in 1944.
‘‘It is something I have not ever told to anyone, and wish I had discussed it with my friend, who is now dead. The subject has opened a Pandora’s box of memories, and has cost me three nights’ sleep so far.
‘‘We had great delight in regularly going on the High St car, up to what we were sure was the best dairy in Dunedin — at the top of the run plus three blocks walking. It had the best mix of lollies in town and to have that thrill, on top of the wonderful ride in the cable car, well, it was heaven.
‘‘We always sat on the lovely, shiny varnished longside seats, enjoying the open air. It was always Saturday afternoon, pocket money in our hot little hands. She was 8, I was 7.
‘‘Coming back down, on this eventful day, we had a squabble about the lollies, which eventuated in her dropping one on the road.
‘‘She then pushed me out on to the road, where I had too close a look at the ironmongery of the car for a few somersaults. I was keeping pace with the cable car, and the driver had not spotted me.
‘‘I continued on my merry way, being very conscious of the hollow thud my head was making. However, I veered to the right, thankfully, which took me away from those ghastly wheels, still going over and over.
‘‘The driver noticed me and stopped the vehicle. He came after me, on a very steep part of the road. I staggered to my feet and received no sympathy but a severe tellingoff, which I was sure was warranted, but the poor man was freaked out. I had a sore head for a few days, but we never ever rode on the outside again.
‘‘That was in 1944 and so many things have changed since, I get giddy thinking about them. But it was an accident waiting to happen, which it eventually did, very sad to say.
‘‘Thank you again for a wonderful column and all the memories you bring back.’’
Well, thank you, Bev, for sharing for the first time, with us all, your pretty scary tale. I hope you can get some sleep now.
Denise, of Oamaru, also recalls the ‘‘schoolholiday treat’’ when her mum would take the family to visit a great aunt in Mornington.
‘‘Mum was brought up mostly by her aunt and liked to take the family and go and visit. We lived in Andersons Bay and had quite a walk down to the tram stop to catch a tram into town.
‘‘There were five of us — Mum, my three brothers and myself the youngest. We would hurry from the train in the Exchange along to the cable car in High St.
‘‘We all preferred to be on the side seats, although my brothers, when tall enough, liked to hang from the straps. If we couldn’t get there, our next preferred seats were inside facing the way we were going and the view going home down High St was a treat.
‘‘Our great aunt looked forward to these visits and prepared a lovely cooked meal, but the pudding was a fluffy affair we all hated, but were told in no uncertain terms before we left home that we were to eat it all up — ‘without a fuss’.
‘‘The pudding was yuk and my brothers would have debates about which soap powder she had used, naming various brands. My great aunt thought we were joking, but as we obeyed our mother and ate it all up she made it every time we went to visit.
‘‘We looked forward to our long trip home to Andy Bay on the cable car and tram after our day out. But it would be a slow walk up the hill to our house, with us blaming the soap pudding for slowing us down.’’
Trick questions
Joe Enright of Mosgiel’s questions from last week elicited a handful of responses.
You might recall Joe asked readers two questions — which day is 2018’s shortest and what is the furthest you can see from the summit of Mt Cargill on a clear, cloudless afternoon if that occurred at the winter solstice?
No surprise that nobody got them right, given they were dastardly wheezes.
Joe says the shortest day this year is actually September 30, the day daylight savings begins, which means it is only 23 hours long.
Some of you did some stunning calculations and came up with 93km as the most distant point visible from Mt Cargill under those conditions. Well actually, Joe says the furthest is 150 million km, to the sun . . .
They were pretty mean, actually!