Here I Go Again

That Hollies song says it all. For the umpteenth time in less than a year I've been back on the Hume Highway.

On each trip I try to focus on some distinguishing feature of the drive. I ask myself - what is making this long day different? On 11 April, heading north, I have to admit that the drive was pretty boring. Only two things made it memorable - the smoke haze, virtually obliterating any sharp images of the landscape for most of the journey, and the lack of autumn leaves.

The burning-off programmes in our forests, supposedly to protect the community against the worst impact of bushfires, rarely rates a mention as a contributor to our global warming problem. Amazing! When I lived in the Yarra Valley there were often days when wet washing could not be hung outside to dry, because ash sediment and the smell of smoke would cling to the fabric. And as for the consequences for asthmatics - terrible! To me, the pollution seemed a high price to pay for the dubious benefits of the deliberate burning strategy.

On the return journey, on 21 April, autumn was still missing-in-action. There was one spectacular display of red, yellow and orange foliage at the junction of the Hume and Federal Highways near Goulburn, but otherwise little to indicate along the full length of the Hume that we are more than halfway through autumn. Yet this was a genuine autumn day - the air was so calm and still that the blades of the wind turbines south of Goulburn were motionless. Nature is proving the point that the average minimum daily temperature is rising.

On the road itself, a little colour and movement was injected by a vintage car rally. Of all the old-timers chugging along in the slow lane, my favourite was the pink Cadillac Coupe de Ville Convertible. Actually, it was parked - at where else? - McDonalds, at Glenrowan.

The main excitement of the journey was a truck fire on the Hume near Wallan. The truck was carrying carpet rolls and the fire was difficult to extinguish, meaning that the road was closed for a lengthy period, creating a huge Sunday evening traffic jam. It made me think that overhead traffic management signs positioned a short distance prior to exit points would be a great addition to that very busy road, warning drivers about problems ahead. Decisions to take an alternative route might thus be made in time. For example, an optional route to Melbourne is via Seymour and down the Whittlesea Rd or Melba Highway. I would have appreciated such information, as I'd planned to buy more petrol on the outskirts of Melbourne and as I inched forward in stop-start traffic over many long kilometres I kept an anxious eye on my petrol gauge. The truck, which looked as if it had once been a B-double, was a burnt out shell when we long-suffering motorists eventually crawled past several hours later.