Country life
I had a mate who could probably have filled this QOTW single handed. Born to hang, we used to say, because nothing else seemed to be able to kill him!

So on school holidays we used to go up to his late uncle's farm, and be left alone up there for a week, with as much booze as we could smuggle past his father. And when that ran out on the second or third day, we'd 'borrow' the neighbour's motorbike and nip into the town of Poowong for more.

Everybody said country life was good for my health. I'd get to experience all sorts of things.

Having a beer can shot off my head by a drunken mate. Having a full beer can shot off my head by a drunken mate. It exploded, showering both of us in beer, leaving a can split right down the side with a tiny nick where the bullet hit. (We kept the can, we didn't tell anyone it was on my head at the time!)

Hiding in the old water tank to hunt rabbits at dusk. By the time the rabbits finally showed up, we were so plastered we could barely point the bloody gun out the holes in the tank! Discovering that bullets will go through the tank walls anyway, deafening us. Discovering that bullets will ricochet off the seam in the tank, hurting us!

The thrill of tractor racing, and being drunk enough to fall off the seat, barely managing to fall far enough to avoid being crushed by those huge back wheels.

That moment of utter fear, when you're cutting down a huge tree, and it starts falling straight at you.

That thrill of walking out in the morning with breakfast, and scaring the piss out of a poacher who thought the place was empty. His first shot hit the house, sending a brick chip into my breakfast. I hit the ground while my mate grabbed the gun and shot back!

Oh yes, I learned a lot about country life up there. That's why I stay in the city now where it's safe!
(ShowPony, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 12:15, Reply)