Holden HD

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This was the first car I owned – not very glam but dead reliable. And isn’t that just what ever young fella wants, of an evening, out with a new date? You want reliable. Whoever said girls like boys with glamorous cars was dreamin’. It’s a bit of a philosophical issue when you start to dwell on it. Does one become reliable due to the car they drive, or does one get such a car because they are essentially reliable? It would be fair to say every four year old understands the inherent meaninglessness and absurdity of life on earth, hours in the kindy sandpit, arguing essence precedes existence and visa versa. Then the teacher rolls out the pedal car. Existential angst is replaced with who-goes-first angst – getting behind that wheel defines ones being and giving that car up is not an option, not at least, until home time and Mum promises a custard square for afternoon tea. 

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HT Premier customised

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This is a recent commission from a customer in Australia. He sent me the photo of this lovely HT Prem, owned by his cousin then passed on to him. They both remember the car fondly and now have a print each to hang above the mantlepiece. This was a case of adapting an HT I had already created, adding the ‘Jellybean’ mags and matching the colours to a colour chart from 1969, which I found online.

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Holden HG Premier

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In 1910, yeah I know that was a long time ago but bare with me, a bunch of locals at Lyall Bay started a surf lifesaving club – they called it Lyall Bay Surf Lifesaving Club. No, stick with me, it gets better. Being rather pleased with themselves, they thought it a good idea to have a demonstration day and show Wellington just how clever they were. Demo-day arrived and the surf was pumping (normally a good thing for a surf lifesaving demonstration day). The teams and routines had all been agreed with a nod and a wink. Five minutes before hitting the surf, the club captain (we’ll call him Ted because his name was Ted) lost his bottle and pushed another clubby (Neil) forward. Clubbie Neil didn’t like being pushed so pushed back. The two went hard at it in front of an enthralled crowd until Neil had had enough and stomped off. He only stomped 50 metres and stopped, stamped his foot and declare ’Sod it, I’ll start my own club and I’ll be boss’. And so it was, Maranui Surf Lifesaving Club was born (one assumes ‘Neil’s Surf lifesaving Club’ was rejected) and Captain Neil never went out in pumping surf again. The two clubs sat side by side quite well on the whole, but when a dispute broke out, they would go up the beach to the ‘Bend’, and with gloves on, sort it out. The Bend became known as ‘Gloves’ and when the dispute was unable to be sorted at Gloves, they moved further up the beach to a spot known as “Gloves off’. No dispute went unresolved.

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