Stories

Published on February 8th, 2007 | by Hans Fruck

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For Your Eyes Only

Lately, I’ve taken to wandering the streets of inner Melbourne at night. Nothing sinister. I just need some exercise after sitting in front of a computer all day. (Either that or I’m gonna turn into a zeppelin.) Well, last night while making my way along a Toorak street I got an unwelcome surprise.

What I generally do is take my gf’s iPod and strike off in whatever direction takes my fancy. Sometimes I stick close to home and roam the yuppie streets of Prahran. Other times I stroll round the Jewish sections of St Kilda, the Mercedes- and Beamer-populated driveways of Toorak, or the upper-middle-class streets of Malvern, or wherever. I don’t really care.

Generally speaking, I stick to quiet residential streets. They’re nicer: more trees, fewer fumes, less traffic. And because they’re quieter, I don’t have to redline the volume on the iPod. (Save what little hearing I’ve got left, I figure.)

Last night, I was wandering along Kooyong Road. Maybe not a main drag, but still a busy enough secondary road, even at midnight on a Tuesday. So I hung a right down a dark residential street.

Not far from the corner of Kooyong, say 20m, 30m at most, was parked a dirty great four-wheel drive. I could see someone standing in the open passenger-side door of the 4WD. I didn’t pay much attention – just some matronly woman levering her way out of the car or leaning in to get something, I thought.

As I neared the 4WD, though, I realised that there were, in fact, two people in the car door, not one. I was no more than 10ft from the car door when I saw – in a flash – that a portly gentleman in his fifties was struggling to lift a woman from the car into a wheelchair. I was no more than 4ft from the couple when I saw there was no wheelchair, and he definitely wasn’t lifting her.

Instead the woman was leaning against the side of the 4WD, arms around her companion, chin on his shoulder, while he vigorously checked her credentials.

Phew. Disaster averted. Because, I swear, I was about a millisecond from tapping the dude on his shoulder and asking him if he needed a hand. Instead, I fixed my gaze straight ahead and stalked silently past the engaged couple – at least, that’s how I imagine it. Truth is, Dead Meadow were playing on the iPod at the time. So maybe I charged past like a herd of elephants. I wouldn’t know.

Both the people concerned were fully clothed, at least as far as I could see. (It was all pitch black and peripheral vision.) I caught a glimpse of the woman’s grey or blonde bob, and the dude’s bald pate, glistening jowls, and spastically twitching hips.

And that was more than enough, thank you. As it was, a small part of my brain euthanised itself out of sheer disgust and shock.

Not that I’m a wowser or a prude. Far from it. But there’s a time and a place for everything, and quite frankly, I don’t think the sidewalk of a Toorak street – even at midnight – is the place for middle-aged nookie.

Is that so unreasonable? Couldn’t they have gone inside? Or at least used the back seat of the vehicle like everyone else? For god’s sake, the fuckers (and I mean that literally) are leaning against a 4WD the size of Fairstar the Funship. Why not use it?

And while I’m on the subject of copulation, it is, when you’re not taking part, a singularly unappetising activity. Seriously. It’s like watching a cocker spaniel humping a sofa – except its minimally humorous when a pooch does it.

So, look, I don’t want to get all “Christian” about this. But seriously, folks, if you’re gonna rejuvenate your marriage, or conduct an affair, or boff someone who caught your eye at a dinner party, please do so inside the vehicle provided by your own conspicuous consumption and your disregard for other motorists and the environment.

Don’t compound all your other sins by exposing an innocent passerby (moi) to the sight your good selves going at it hammer and tong. Neither pedestrians nor the open air are props to your sexual gratification.

Kindly remember this in future.

Sincerely,
HS Fruck


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