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HOW TO GO FISHING 2

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The overdue sequel to the story; HOW TO GO FISHING 1 The Preface. HTGF1 was the first post I ever made on this blog. It was a story which because of the Instagram caption character limit, didn't have a home.  Hence Corner Stories was born. A way I could give mates a means to engage with what I was making without putting it too in their face.  Originally it was just called MQN8R so that I could publish whatever felt like me. But I decided it needed its own identity, as I wanted others to use the functionality to share their inner monologue and photographic perspective. I want your stories, not boring photos of you on holiday. With that out of the way enjoy HTGF2 ; a few stories from summer folded into each other. HOW TO GO FISHING 2 A year or two had passed since the original failures and so it only made sense to have another crack.  Even if that crack was the sound of a can of fourX while one of us would frivolously tug the rip cord as if something had changed and it w...
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All Cars Were Once New

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Driving through outback Australia you see husks of cars everywhere you go. Every time I come across one, something fascinates me about the lives they must have gone through to end up where they lie. Cars undergo an interesting transformation from new, valuable, and prized possessions into something so worthless it’s better off left in the bush. Whether it’s rotting in a field, on the back of a scrappers truck, or posted as a project on marketplace, try and picture it the day it rolled off the line - because that day did happen. It’s strange to imagine the sensible ‘90s Japanese businessman buying and daily driving a nice 2-door, cloth-seat Nissan . Only to see that car screaming around a track just 30 years on. Or the fresh-off-the-boat ‘60s poms and their brightly coloured, not-letting-go-of-the-homeland Austin convertible. Only for it to become a pile of rust in an overgrown paddock. There is something special about a brand new car.    I had a coworker once who was infectio...
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Street Sighting ~ Chrysler Valiant (wagon)

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Preface: Got too drunk after finding more drinks and never finished this.     Guzzo lean. I can confidently say that my fuel for writing about the cars I see is beginning to run low. But not empty. Tonight I can't imagine anything worse than sitting at my computer and writing about some family guzzler catching rays on the side of the road, but here I am. (Spoiled of me, but I was feelin blue about the ex missus) Here because, I think back to pulling over for some respite, having a stroll and for a moment being happy. If it makes me smile, who knows someone else might get a kick. So I raise this shitty cider I pinched from my brother to the big green wagon on your screen. Keep on clockin it lad. I took these pics right in the middle of the fuel crisis with petrol hitting a bit over 2-dollar-fitty a litre. It really did have me grinning to see the Oz owned fuel rep sticker. It was also a reminder that people should support local radio stations by slapping on a sticker and givi...
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