Footnote to Fruits of Jindalee

I've recently been entertained via blogspot by nursemyra's reports about Steve McQueen's envy of Yul Brynner's pearl handled pistol and his larger horse in the Magnificent Seven as well as the posting of what the nurse claims is an Alaskan tattoo on what appears to be a naked but unacknowledged Sara Palin.

In my previous post I put an asterisk next the word "a-dult" meaning to footnote same with a story from my more youthful days in Canberra.

I think I was nearing completion of a bachelor's degree in that fair city (only about ten years after I began the degree) and I met a rather bold, young, italo-american woman from the Bronx.

I forget where we met but suffice to say there was some attraction between the pair of us and a red hot date was arranged. (I'm not sure if I was living in my tent in the woods at this time or in some other less than stable dwelling somewhere within walking distance of Gus's coffeehouse, the ANU Bar and the Chifley Library.)

The afternoon of the date I travelled to her house in the outer suburbs by bus instead of my usual form of transport in that city; the push-byke. (I had worked for Action Buses at times carrying suitcases of cash to pay the drivers. I knew the routes that these buses followed. I knew they were regular and reliable.)

I presented myself at the front door of what was probably the homestay of the brazen lass from the Bronx who reminded me a little of Sophia Loren, and Raquel Welch all rolled into one. I remember she was far more curvaceous and posty legged than the thinner local girls who I must admit I did adore. Maggie asked me, (oh what was her name?) as I darkened her door: "Where's your motor-car?"

I told her I didn't have one, to which the lady from the Bronx replied:

"What? You're an A-Dult male and you don't own a motor ve-hicle?"

I can't remember what happened next but I can tell you that it wasn't much.