Free White Ute Dreaming by Scot Gardner

people and shit all over the lawn and down the drive. Kerry sat at a camping table with a straw hat on that was too big for her. Gracie was speaking with an unhappy-looking woman. Baz smacked into the fence near the back gate, struggling with a lounge chair that had seen more bums than a Penthouse photographer. I dropped my bike and ran up to give him a hand. Well, a hand and a stump. His face was beaded with sweat.
    â€˜Thanks, Wayne. Just taking it over there with the others.’
    I started walking and almost pulled the chair out of Baz’s hand.
    â€˜Isn’t that your bike?’ he asked. I looked over the backof the chair and saw that an old bloke with glasses had picked my bike up. He was squeezing the tyres.
    â€˜How much?’ he asked Kerry.
    She looked out from under her hat and smiled. ‘I don’t think that one’s for sale.’
    The old bloke put my bike down gently and walked off.
    I planted the chair and Baz grinned. ‘You might want to pop your bike up on the porch. There were three people in the backyard when I got up this morning. One of them bought the boat. Didn’t have any pants on and I’d already made my first sale. Wasn’t even going to sell her.’
    Kerry grumbled.
    â€˜We can get another one,’ Baz said, and pulled her hat over her eyes.
    â€˜Maybe, but not like our boat. It was older than me. Didn’t deserve to be sold like that.’
    Barry leant close to her. ‘Doesn’t float. I got two hundred and fifty dollars for a boat that doesn’t float.’
    Kez laughed. ‘They’re cracked in the head, some of them. The shit they buy,’ she whispered.
    The old bloke who had been looking at my bike came up to Kerry’s table and gave her a handful of coins for a wooden knife block without any knives. Barry had vanished. The old bloke trotted off with his treasure and Kez looked at me from under the brim of her hat. My feet tingled.
    â€˜Couldn’t have got a better day for it,’ I said, and instantly regretted it. Kez hates talking about the weather or anything like that. The footy. The news. She reckons it’s all crap and it gets in the way of talking about real stuff. Like love and people and nature and relationships and . . .
    â€˜Isn’t it an awesome day? This is a perfect autumn day.Not too hot. No wind. No clouds. Wish I was at the beach,’ she said, and looked right in my eyes. Through my eyes. Right through to the back of my head.
    â€˜Beach would be good,’ I said, and sat down on the lawn beside her. Sat down before I fell down. She didn’t hate me.
    Den jumped the handrail on the porch and landed on his feet next to me. ‘Hey, come and check this out. Cleaned out my cupboard.’
    Mate, what a trip down memory lane that was. His Meccano and Hot Wheels, even that stupid box of magic tricks that I got him from the five-dollar shop when we were in year seven. He even had a price on his slot car set.
    â€˜You’re not selling your slotties are you?’
    He scoffed. ‘Yeah. Haven’t played with them for years.’
    â€˜But they’re ace.’
    He poked his chin out.
    â€˜Can I buy them?’ I asked.
    â€˜What for? You’d never bloody use them.’
    â€˜Yeah I would.’
    He thought about it for a minute. ‘Twenty bucks.’
    â€˜Twenty bucks? They must be eight years old. At least,’ I said.
    â€˜Got thirty-five dollars on them. They were a hundred and eighty bucks new. Still a bargain.’
    I squatted and pushed two pieces of the black track together and remembered what it was like. Every second lap, one of the cars would jump out of its slot. One of the triggers was dodgy. You could press it a little bit and it wouldn’t go at all then all of a sudden, it would take off and shoot the car into the kitchen or wherever. I still wanted it.
    â€˜Fifteen.’
    He looked at me for the longest time. ‘Don’t be