A near miss in 1956 - or fourteen hours to Melbourne

This is number three in the series of family recollections.

In early October 1956, not long before the Melbourne Olympics and long before the days before cheap airfares and dual lane highways, STD calling and mobile phones, my parents Ross and Lorraine drove to Sydney in their Simca Aronde car for two weeks holiday.

The months before had been difficult. Lorraine had finally fallen pregnant again after a miscarriage the year before - but this pregnancy had its own share of problems. Even though her GP was monitoring her very carefully, the threat of a miscarriage was always present. Plus Lorraine was plagued by thrush and the kind of morning sickness that lasts all day.

However, their holiday had gone smoothly and their hotel,The Hotel Imperial in King’s Cross, had lovely harbour views. They’d been entertained by the Exners, a Swiss couple whom Ross knew through business, and were nearing the end of their time there

Lorraine woke the morning of their planned departure to discover she’d begun bleeding - not heavily - but enough to be significant. The hotel management called for a doctor, who immediately prescribed bed rest for the next three days.

On further consultation, the doctor felt that the long, bumpy drive back to Victoria was too risky. Ross and Lorraine agreed. The prospect of complications somewhere out in the Mulga, or at least between small towns, was too frightening.

It was decided that Lorraine would fly home – a very expensive option in those days – and Ross would drive back to Geelong alone.

But how would they manage it? They only knew the Exners in Sydney and even if they could get Lorraine to Mascot Airport, how was Lorraine to manage the trip home from the other end?

Their salvation came in the form of a fellow hotel guest. Mrs Brady, the mother of an old friend of Ross’ happened to be staying at The Imperial too, and promptly volunteered her daughter’s assistance to get Lorraine back to Geelong.

Thelma, the daughter, had served in the AWA as a driver during the war, so Ross knew Lorraine would be in good hands.

So it was finally worked out: Ross would hit the road at around 5am, the Exners would see off Lorraine at the airport at around nine, Thelma would meet Lorraine at Essendon Airport and take her to her parents’ place (around 50 miles away) to await Ross.

That turned out to be the easy part. Ross still had to drive non-stop from Sydney to Geelong, a distance of around 550 miles (880 km).

It was not a pleasant trip. There had been flooding around the Holbrook/ Little Billabong area which had left the highway full of potholes. He recalls that hitting them at 70-80 mph instead of thirty was fairly nasty - and was murder on the car’s suspension.

There was one bright spot on the trip. It was still early morning and he encountered a lone driver in a Ford who was driving at a similar pace. They drove together in loose tandem for several hours; the Simca pulling ahead on the curves, and the Ford catching up on the hills, but both making very good time. A kind of open road cameraderie developed between the two drivers.

Ross recalls watching the Ford breeze past at a petrol stop and being surprised when the driver turned back a few moments later to invite him to breakfast. Ross was tempted but felt unable to accept.

He never saw the car again.

He drove on alone: his imagination playing out non-stop ‘what- if’ scenarios, worried sick about Lorraine reaching Geelong safely, and only stopping for ‘pee and petrol’ along the way.

He arrived at Lorraine’s parents’ house at around 7pm, exhausted after a solid 14 hours behind the wheel, relieved to find her safe and well.

Thankfully, there were no more bleeds after that first one and Lorraine only had to endure the usual inconveniences of pregnancy – which in her case was several more months of morning (and afternoon) sickness. She managed this by consuming vast quantities of Dexsal and Perry Mason novels.

The morning sickness finally stopped during the last trimester and Lorraine delivered a healthy baby girl the following March – me - and did it again three years later in 1960 (Lynda) and in 1965 (Tracy) with two comparatively easy and morning sickness free pregnancies.

The GP, Ian Vaughan, who had nursed her through that first fraught pregnancy, wasn’t on duty the night she delivered me. In fact he only managed to be present for baby number three. That night he was heard to say something like. ‘It’s another girl – just like the other two.’