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Chapter One My Beginnings

On to Chapter Two - My First Holiday

My earliest memories are of living on a farm with my parents near the town of Dalby. This was on the Darling Downs, a soil rich area of Queensland, Australia. This farm was 2,007 acres in area, which made it the second largest in the district. Because of this we were able to both grow crops and raise sheep. I could drive a truck, a tractor ploughing paddocks, and a self-propelled harvester, before I was allowed to drive Dad's motorcar. I could ride a horse and control kelpie dogs to round up sheep before I was 10 years old.

I was also a pretty fair shot with a .22 calibre rifle. Many times I would fill Dad's old World War 11 canteen with water, grab some of Mum's home made biscuits, and drive the old farm ute to a stand of gum trees. 'Ute' has just been highlighted by my word processor so I should explain it. Ute is short for utility, basically meaning a varying purpose vehicle. It is not a Jeep, and doesn't really look like a pick-up truck. It has the general size and shape of a normal car, but with a front cabin for either only a single bench seat, or two 'bucket' seats, for the driver and passengers. The back is open, and anything can be 'chucked in the back of the ute'. I think it is an Australian concept. If you wish to know more go to www.uteman.com.au.

Now, where was I? Ah yes. Shooting. I would wait behind a large fallen tree, with my rifle at the ready, waiting to shoot crows when they landed amongst the branches of other trees. Targeting crows is now illegal in Australia, and may have been then in the 1950s and 60s. But I hated them with a passion for what they did to lambs. They would peck the eyes out of newly born lambs, and sometimes even larger ones. The lambs then had to be destroyed by us for their own sake.

Sometimes we would not have a solid bullet in the rifle, but instead the shell would be loaded with 'shot' to kill snakes. Now snakes are also supposed to be a protected species. These laws were probably introduced by city folk who had no personal experience with them. They would never have had poisonous brown or red-bellied black snakes wanting to live under the cool rainwater tank next to their house, or inside the 'thunder box', our outside toilet.

When I was 13, Dad and Mum moved into town. I could no longer do the things I did on the farm, but now I had all the opportunities to play sport. I was not a fast runner, but I was like a Volkswagen. My maximum speed was my cruising speed, and I could do it all day. I had reasonable hand/eye/foot co-ordination, reflexes, and timing, and loved Soccer, Squash, Tennis, and Cricket.

My secondary school work was never brilliant, but it was only later I realised that it probably had a lot to do with the subjects I chose. In primary school, where you never had to study much, I loved Social Studies, and English, and despite not liking it as much, I was good at Maths.

In secondary school we occasionally went to vocation nights, where we were supposed to understand the implications of the sample of careers on display, and then make decisions on our subject choices to guide our lives. I cannot even remember why I chose Physics and Chemistry. I hated them and failed them. Through my adult life I have often said that I would have loved to have been either Alby Mangels, the photo-journalist/adventurer, or a stockbroker. Why didn't I take History and Geography (I knew I used to like Social Studies in primary school), or Commerce?

Even though I could drive a car, licensing was not permitted until 17 years of age. Every Christmas holidays Dad would drive us to visit his family in the city of Brisbane, and then we would drive to the Sunshine Coast to visit Mum's family. I couldn't wait to visit Mum's family. Despite living in a rural area, I found Brisbane boring. But the beach and the surf was...Wow! And I had cousins to play with! I am an only child, but there were 10 children in Dad's family, and 9 in Mum's (What does that say?).

My mother's maiden name was Kuskopf. Her mother's maiden name was Aird. She claimed that the Airds could trace their history back to the Scottish poet Robbie Burns, something many other Scottish people also claim. Having read articles about the life of Robbie (Don Juan) Burns, this may well be true.

Born in 1884, Grandma Kuskopf was the first white girl born in the Woombye district of the Sunshine Coast hinterland. Her mother's maiden name was Stumpf, the daughter of Karl Stumpf, the manager of Cobb's Camp, the Cobb & Co stagecoach depot, from 1877 until 1881.

The first Kuskopf to arrive in Australia came from Schleswig-Holstein in Denmark. It was only recently that I learned this, and when I did I thought, "You beauty. I'm related to the Vikings".

Then I learned that he was a sausage maker. What a letdown. Then I cheered myself up by thinking, "Maybe he was a sausage maker to the Vikings".

The first Brinkley to arrive in Australia was a policeman, so I can't claim the slightest bit of convict blood in me. My father is 92 years old in this year of 2006. He too has travelled the world, but all of his travelling was paid for by the Commonwealth of Australia. During World War 11, he was member of the 2nd2nd Machine Gun Battalion, part of the 9th Division. He served in the Middle East and North Africa, including the Battle of El Alemein, and in New Guinea and Borneo.

My parents and their siblings were all born in the Sunshine Coast hinterland, and several still lived there. During these holidays, we would all stay in family sized tents right next to the Alexandra Headland Surf Lifesavers Clubhouse.

I learnt how to surf, both body and board. Just because I learnt how doesn't mean I actually got to be good at it over a few weeks each year. As a young teenager, there were also dances at the clubhouse, and girls that were not just the kids I played with back home. These were heady days for me with bands covering the music of Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and Steppenwolf etc. Music that didn't get played in rural Dalby.

After finishing year 12 I decided not to continue on to university. Because of my dismal marks in Physics and Chemistry, I concluded the academic life was not for me anyway. I spent one year as an assistant spare parts salesman for a local farm machinery business, then joined the Post Master General's department as a Telecommunication's Assistant-in-Training. This was not done through any great ambition to become involved in the telecommunications industry. Indeed it only came about because someone told me that all PMG technicians did was drive around in motorcars all day, or play pool in the lunchroom. It also gave me the opportunity to leave Dalby and explore the world.

During our initial training at a PMG school in Brisbane, we students were asked for our preferences as to a town or depot to work at. Because we were mostly young this was to allow us to return to our home towns and families. I applied to be sent to the Sunshine Coast. Nooo. Go to Miles! Do not pass go! Do not collect $200!

Miles was the name of a town smaller than Dalby, 80 miles further west than Dalby, which meant it was a further 80 miles west from my precious Sunshine Coast. I was devastated. Even when Australia went to the metric system the people of Miles didn't change the name to Kilometers. From the day I arrived I applied for transfers.

Four years later I successfully applied to undertake a promotional course, for which if I was successful, there was no position of that designation available in Miles. I was out! But not without a wife and a new born baby, and a love for motorcycles.

The wife came first. My first residence in Miles was at a boarding house. The family was nice, and there were about half a dozen lodgers. After about six months, two other male lodgers and myself decided to share a flat. This was done under the pretence of having some different meals occasionally, but in reality was probably because we wanted to feel independent. Our first night in the flat was a Friday night. Party night! Lots of booze, loud music, and girls.

As the night wound up, or was that morning, one of my flatmates, in fact someone I had gone to school with in Dalby who was now working for a bank in Miles, introduced me to his girlfriend. Since the girl of my attentions had by that time gone home, under the courageous influence of alcohol, I gave her a passionate (more likely drunken slobber) kiss. Two years later Eileen and I were married.

As the sun rose that day at about 9am, I arose to the sound of someone knocking on the veranda just outside my room. No it wasn't either of the girls of my attentions from the night before. It was the lovely elderly lady next door. "I'm sorry. It was our first night. We'll never make so much noise again. We won't keep you awake until 2am again either" " No! That's not why you're here? My mother is on your telephone wishing to speak to me? How did she find out about last night? How did she know to contact you to contact me? OK. I'll just be a minute." 'Yes Mum. I'm fine. We've settled in ok. Yes I'll look after myself. Bye now. Yes I will thank the lovely lady for getting me. Bye.'

Motorcycling is still part of my life. I have owned the same Suzuki GS1100G shaft drive touring bike since 1984. In 1974 my first motorcycle was a Honda 100 off-road (sort of) bike. Eileen is the eldest of 10 children. Only child me is really an odd one out. Her eldest brother's girlfriend's brother was a very good motorcycle rider. Indeed his girlfriend was a good motorcycle rider too, so Eileen's brother got a motorcycle. So I got a motorcycle. Mind you everyone else had either Honda 750 4s, Kawasaki 900s, or Yamaha 650s. All fairly large road bikes. I had my sort of off-road Honda 100. If we all wanted to go somewhere I spent a lot of time as a pillion passenger behind someone else.

I do remember on one occasion when I went to visit Eileen's brother's girlfriend's brother (Bill for short). Bill lived and worked on a farm outside of town. I had borrowed someone else's 750 Honda 4. We were going for a ride together, but couldn't leave until a paddock was finished being ploughed. I volunteered to do that while Bill finished other chores. When this was finished, and just as we were about to leave, Bill's boss asked if he would go to the neighbouring property first. So instead of riding out the front gate we rode along a fenceline until we got to the paddock that I had just ploughed. The neighbour lived on the other side of the paddock. I had done a very good job of ploughing this paddock right up to the fenceline.I was just thinking how it was going to be difficult to ride along that narrow patch of hard soil when I heard Bill change down through the gears on his bike to about 2nd. While still rolling, and at about 6000RPM, he let out the clutch. With a roar of exhaust, and a spray of freshly ploughed topsoil, he was tearing across the paddock, the rear wheel slewing left and right. 'Hmmm. That really is a very narrow patch around the fenceline. Oh well. If Bill can do it so can I.' Vrooom! I was in hot pursuit. I have no idea how impressive my riding was, but I made it unscathed, and with adrenaline flooding through me. After that, riding side by side on the gravel road to town at 80MPH seemed like a breeze.

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On to Chapter Two - My First Holiday