It was 1984 and one of my first listings.
The heading on the paper ads in the western suburbs read “ Secluded Shack On 20 Acres Bush”.
In 1984 we had no mobiles or GPS and there was no way of my office knowing my whereabouts and progress of my adventure. People turned up at the office unannounced and would request an inspection. Of course, l would comply because l was young, just married with one child, one on the way, arse out of my pants and stars in my eyes in anticipation of future commissions to come. My mode of transport, a 1970 XY Falcon with a hole on driver’s side floor to capture any excess water from the puddles outside.
Sitting in my cubicle in the office writing notes/ideas in my diary for future adventures, l heard the front door open, no call from the receptionist, so l ventured out to the main office area, standing there was two very large gentlemen in jeans and t-shirts with large muscular arms adorned with well-done tattoos.
Understanding why the receptionist did not talk, because she was stunned into silence with the sight to behold – the picture told the story.
I said ‘good afternoon’, how can l help you? Response was, ‘shack on 20 acres of bush, we want a look’, my reply, OF COURSE. I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask for names and phone numbers due to the privacy act which hadn’t been enacted at the time.
Opening the reception door for the men, one of them was bald and had to bob down to exit, the other had a good crop of hair which grazed the top of the door frame. I had a silly thought, the nickname, Harry and the Henderson’s ran through my mind and stayed there. If you haven’t seen the film, it was about a family that met bigfoot!
I nicknamed the bald guy Harry and the other Mr Henderson. Sitting in the car the bald guy jumped in the back with his head touching roof and his mate in the front with me.
No suspension meant that it was a very rough ride on unsealed roads for the 10km journey. The conversation was one sided with me the only talker expressing sentiments about how nice a day it was, and questions about where they were from and what they did for a living falling on deaf ears except for a few grunts. Driving along the entrance to the property on a winding track, trying to dodge puddles and not collect water through the hole in the floor resulted in a very damp pair suit pants (my only pair, that happened to be my wedding suit pants).
We came to an isolated clearing with just a shack 50 meter ahead of us. We pulled up and the two gentlemen opened their doors and lifted themselves out holding the door frames. Five seconds later l hear F— and the two men jumped back in the car. Just two metres away there was a three-meter black snake sunbaking on a exposed rock.
The journey back to the office was silent with the two men’s tattoos on vivid display because the men had turned white, their conversational grunts had ceased.
Reflection: Driving out to this property l was thinking. Did anybody know I had been to the remote bush site with two burly blokes. Did they actually see me leave, because l was worried that nobody would see me come out.
My thoughts on arriving home. THANK YOU, MOTHER NATURE, FOR GETTING ME HOME SAFELY!