DIRTY STUFF

WILLIAM PORKER

DOOMED, I was. Doomed to die slowly in agonising pain, trapped by the vice-like grip of a car-door window frame. And there was no nearby help, no friendly face to get me out of this hell. I was stuck there, half in and half out of a mongrel metal car. And I knew I was going to die, just like JC on his cross.

I live alone, in a small house on a one-hectare block in rural cow and sugarcane country, with no close neighbours. But I do have a big shed for my cars. One of these is a 1958, prototype alloy-bodied, English-origin Rochdale coupe, which has been chopped and changed over the years. There is a long history with this sports coupe, which began with a fibreglass body and the internals of a wrecked early 1950s Ford 8hp van.

The owner and builder of this vehicle was an engineer with Dunlop, and on his second trip to Australia, he brought his family and the coupe to live in a land that was heaps warmer than England. Sometime later, the car was involved in an accident in Adelaide by a new owner, which damaged the flimsy Rochdale GRP body beyond economical repair. So that’s when it got the new thin alloy-sheet body.

I got it as a stripped-out multi-tube chassis, still with alloy body and a windscreen. Nobody knew what it was, but I found the original owner/builder in Townsville and he filled in the history gaps. So I rebuilt it with Ford 8/10 bits, and because it doesn’t weigh much, it goes really well with all its screaming 50hp!

But I was now going to die, all because the Odyssey battery in this coupe lives down beside the four-cylinder engine, and was almost flat. So I’d grabbed my 10-amp charger and trundled this to where the car sat in a shelter beside the big shed, then realised I would have

to open the forward-hinged bonnet. The catch for that is inside the cramped cabin, centred forward of the lower rail of the windscreen frame. This is just a short, flat, spring-loaded lever you pull back; the bonnet then bounces open and you have lots of access to the engine bay. Easy.

Problem was, I would either have to open the left-side door or reach in through the window hole. As the small door is difficult for me to open, I stupidly chose to reach in, with my body part-way through the door, and grab that handle. Simple, a manoeuvre I had done many times before. But I must be getting old and fat, because I was in as far as the middle of my ribcage, and still that handle was too far away. So I shoved until my ribcage cleared the lower edge of the door, and opened the bonnet. Okay. Just get back out of there and plug in the charger.

Hah! I was in that damn car up to my waist, and couldn’t move! I pushed and I wriggled and shoved my body backwards, causing more and more pain, but I was trapped. The lower lip of the rolled alloy window frame was jammed against my ribcage and I couldn’t get my body higher to clear, even blowing out every bit of air I had in my lungs. The more I swore at my stupidity and wriggled backwards, the more my body seemed to swell up with all that pain I was creating. And I had no leg purchase with my feet on a slippery dirt floor.

After 45 minutes of this and getting no place at all, with only 150mm gained backwards at the cost of lost skin and damaged belly muscle, I sucked in a deep breath and considered my options. Yelling for somebody to get me out of there was not going to achieve a damn thing, as the neighbours across the back always went into town shopping on a Wednesday – and today was Wednesday. My other neighbours were diagonally to the east from my side fence, but I would’ve needed a megaphone for them to hear my hysterical yelling. So I had to face reality. I was going to die. They would one day find my rotting corpse still stuck in that bloody car door, and say that the silly old fart has really done it this time. And he’s not got any money to pay for a funeral.

I had to get out of there. And I figured there might be a way. If I slid myself forward into that small cabin, my bum and my hips might just fit through that window hole. Or else I would be in a really bad position, and die in extreme pain. Have a go, you idiot – what else can you do? So I grabbed the rollbar and the steering wheel and heaved like hell and hoped.

Suddenly, my head slammed against the right-side sill panel, and my body was on the car floor. I was stuck no more. Got my legs inside, opened the door and fell out, face first, into the dirt.

I will survive my cracked ribs and belly bruises, but I might just light a fire in that bitch of a car come tomorrow!

I WAS IN THAT DAMN CAR UP TO MY WAIST, AND COULDN’T MOVE! I PUSHED AND I WRIGGLED AND SHOVED MY BODY BACKWARDS, BUT I WAS TRAPPED