13 Comments

Tell me, am I am becoming a cranky camper so to speak ? The last few years, my average Australian family of 4 teenage daughters and long suffering husband, have taken advantage of this incredible country we live in and the amazing Holiday Caravan Parks’ scattered around it’s coastline.

These traditional digs, give you the ultimate Australian Summer Holiday experiences of beach days, surf boards, fishing rods, 4WD beach adventures, picnics, bbq’s, boats on trailers and the most treasured possession of all kids – the bike ! This must have item for any good family holiday provides them liberation from the parental gatherings, and entrance into the “bike gang”.

That’s right I am talking about the bicycle that for years has been stacked up on the rack of every family car heading off for a week away of fun and adventure.

For generations, the classic push bike, echos the memories of childhood adventures. The sensation of tired muscles, the extra lap around the cute boys cabin, and scratched or bruished knees or toes from the occasional stack. For generations, the loud piercing screams of children stacking have echoed out across the Holiday Parks. The dulcet tones of Mummmmmmmmmmm can be heard and recognized from miles away by the parent of the wounded soul who is now covered in dust and humiliation. For generations Mothers have put down their cold chardie, scoffed in one more cheese and dippies mouthful, grabbed a baby wipe, betadin, bandaid pursed her lips for a quick kiss on the head and marched down towards her off spring. Where she has found the gathering of other young prying eyes, most of whom are searching for signs of validating a good stack and a bit of blood or broken chain.

However, this year, there is a deafening silence – and something is a miss, almost like a summer without cicadas. The cries of the young learning to ride as part of the right of passage to growing up, are no where to be heard in the serenity of boony doon.

Instead I am hearing an almost mosquito like constant buzzing and start to look for the other familiar sight of the Aussie holiday – a horse fly or Christmas beetle . This year, I am confused as I look out of the simple cabin. Where I expect to see little legs peddling at 100 miles an hour, wheels swaying uncontrollably from side to side and a small squealing face wrapped in concentration, I am instead greeted by the echos of a swarm of mosquitos as the controlled, 5 year olds whizz by me on their electric mopeds or scooters. These new breeds of Holiday Park Holigans are donned with helmets that look like that should be on the set of star wars, and they are sitting perched on their little thrones. Gone is the exertion of exercise and these little warriors simple twist their wrists to reach the maximum speed, whilst checking out the view and stuffing another mouthful of crisps into their already bulging cheeks.
Occassionaly the buzzing machines with their pumped up kids do a few laps past Mum and Dad as they continue their evening Sundowners!!!! And as I pour my G&T and watch my big teens peddle to the shore to go for a swim, I wonder what the future holds as each day some of the simplest of childhood traditions are lost.

---

Posted by mom118138, 19th January 2015