Mechanical in Moonie

The Leichhardt and the Moonie Highways cross at a huge intersection almost at the halfway point between Dalby to Goondawindi. At the intersection there is a toilet block and a service station, both doing hectic business. The drive from Dalby has been gorgeous ...I have been almost the sole road user for most of the trip through grain and cotton country and the coal mines and gas mills in the area have not been evident. There are windmills however across the ranges, graceful additions to the landscape. I first fell in love with wind turbines in Spain where they were features of the landscape as far back as 2001.

I am headed just out of Moonie when I notice an alert light on my dash indicating something to do with oil, so I turn back to the service station and park alongside a farm Ute. For those who have read of my exploits about putting air in my tyres, it should come as no surprise that opening my bonnet poses some hurdles for me and I call on the auspices of a tall Akubra hatted man possibly a few years older than myself who is leaning on the aforementioned Ute. After he has opened the bonnet, I have to confess that now I have no idea of how to check or fill the oil. Hilton as he introduces himself and Dot, who has alighted from the Ute are from Warwick, three hundred kilometres from this intersection and they are waiting to pick up some machinery he has bought. The seller is meeting them here. I am very grateful he hasn`t arrived when it is ascertained that I do need oil.

At the entry to the service station, a truck driver is affectionately stroking a lioness coloured cat with short plush fur. Both of them seem blissed out. Inside a young man is assigned to find me the oil I need which he researches via google and sundry apps before asking an older man who without Google`s assistance confidently identifies the product I need. I return with the oil to find both Dot and Hilton peering into the engine of the little vehicle and now equipped with an oil rag that looks like it might have been a cotton nightie in another life. They have the air of two souls who have worked on many a mechanical mischief in their lives. We then ascertain that I need a funnel and returning to buy it, I notice the cat is now bestowing its favours on yet another truck driver, again to their evident delight. Therapy cat.

Funnel finally purchased, I return and between them, again demonstrating perhaps a lifetime of shared endeavours, Dot and Hilton fill the car with oil. I am immensely grateful that I no longer feel mortified about throwing myself on the mercy of strangers, and immensely grateful for their kindness and assistance. They are both just immensely graceful in the face of my effusive thanks.