Page 5 - Sound Rides March 2022

Freo Friday by D. Alan Petersen

One of the worst parts of being a policeman is that you’re never not a policeman, and today, Friday,
my day off, was a painful reminder.

The day started on a good note. The missus headed off for her shift at the hospital just after
five, which meant I had no trouble getting out early and arriving at Gino’s on the dot at seven. They’d
barely opened the doors and grudgingly took my order after which I hurried to my favourite spot,
where, armed with a handful of paper serviettes, I wiped the dusty dew from my seat and table,
outside under the awning next to the pavement. It was great for people watching, eavesdropping, and
it got the sun’s first rays.
I’d left my flat, in those towers opposite Freo hospital, dressed in black silk shirt, black dress
jeans and a black hat, probably inspired by the Johnny Cash CD I’d been listening to last night. When I
arrived I was steaming after a brisk walk, spurred on by fretting that my pozzie would be pinched by
that silver haired dragon with the Chihuahua whose bulging eyes and scrappy fur made the vicious
little brute look like an escapee from the Chernobyl dog pound.

A few minutes later the old duck arrived carrying Tristan in her enormous handbag, she glared
briefly at me for getting to the number one spot before turning up her nose and taking up residence at
a table two places down, where she sat cooing to her fur baby, seemingly unconcerned that the
waiters were slow to take her order. They were still buzzing around setting up, which left plenty of
time for me to regret the thinness of my shirt and lack of singlet underneath. I was rapidly chilling
down, instead of chilling out, because the stiff easterly was making the 12 degrees under the awning
as biting as a kiss from evil eyed Tristan.
My hat, broad brimmed, was chosen on purpose to keep at bay the glare of the rising sun,
when it eventually showed its face, with the unexpected bonus of giving some warmth, to my head at
least. The sun arrived with my pot of tea and brioche giving me the excuse to put on my sunnies,
mirror finish wraparounds, the perver’s choice!

I’d poured out half a cup, which I was cradling for warmth, when everything sort of happened
at once.
Continued next month….

Want to read more of Alan's efforts you can contact him by email at zlaato@gmail.com or
read his debut novel Tarkine Mist available for loan from our local libraries or for sale
online using this search line: D. Alan Petersen Tarkine Mist.

Once in a million years ride

Finally pinned Peter down and have a firm date for our rerun of that “Once in a million years ride”.
Friday 11th March 8:30 start and riders strongly advised to pack water and something to munch on
because food may be a problem. Having a weak bladder there will be a number of short stops for me
to water the trees and the others to stretch and have a brief natter.
Collie Art Gallery will be a highlight of the day or a walk across the railway tracks for a quick coffee
from the coffee van in the Main Street. After we refuel in Collie we will be taking a slightly longish
route from Collie to Darkin before heading home. It will make room for more stops and more
opportunities to chat.
Anyway, I plan to have a good time without being too stupid.
Regards,
Alan P.

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