EH Holden Special


My Grandma lived in a block of flats like this, on the ground floor, she wasn’t very mobile. Spent her time watching Days of our Lives and John Wayne movies. Not many John Wayne movies probably, but that’s what she used to tell me. It was that little thing we would bond over, even though I didn’t like John Wayne movies, and I’m guessing she didn’t either. We would go and visit in the school holidays, Mum would keep Grandma company and we’d hang around the town all day, looking for things to do. Not much was happening in Whanganui in the mid seventies. I know, we were as surprised then as you are now. I do remember seeing a Gary Glitter, Slade and The Sweet triple bill at the cinema one afternoon – bargain, three for the price of one. We were a bit too cool for this sort of thing, but these were dire times. We entered the cinema by sashaying down the pavement as though the cinema wasn’t there, then suddenly lurching through the front doors, like being sucked in by a vacuum. It was the only way to minimise the chance of anyone seeing us enter, not that we knew anyone in town but the stakes were high – if this got back to Wellington … it was all over, all over mate.

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1969 Holden Monaro

Ever found yourself in a guitar shop, mentally spending thousands of dollars, imagining which half dozen guitars would look best mounted in a row along the living room wall. OK, bedroom wall. OK, study wall. OK, maybe not actually on the wall and maybe not half a dozen. One maybe – if it’s a big birthday. I have heard there’s a convincing argument for pitching it as a ‘bridge’ over the mid-life crisis, but further than that I can’t comment. A photo of a Strat, in a quiet frame, on a wall, somewhere … preferably in the house may work. It’ll keep the dream alive at least and perhaps leave the crisis negotiation open for that discreet yellow Monaro. Just thinking aloud.

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