Bones

‘Bones’ is one of Greg’s full time employees. He doesn’t come on harvest with us but looks after parts of Greg’s business back in home-town Kiowa, mainly hauling fuel to local agricultural outfits.

He’s a great character. He smokes a lot (including in the fuel tanker) and will have a beer in hand and his esky nearby after five o’clock. He’d be in his early 40s, quite skinny, dark complexion, wears a moustache and has a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth. He has a contagious laugh with a smoker’s rattle. There’s a tattoo on his left shoulder that is meant to read ‘Bones’ but it looks more like ‘Barry’. Unfortunately for Bones, Barry is his best friend’s name.

When he’s not in the tanker, Bones drives an old brown pick-up. It’s a 1984 Chevy, has no rego, cracks throughout the windscreen, and a ripped up interior littered with his cigarette butts.

He drove me out to a field on my first day of work. When I got in the pick-up, naturally I reached for my seat belt. It took me a while to find it. I had to fish around right behind my seat. When I finally got hold of it, I started yanking at it but it wouldn’t extend. Bones piped up, “I don’t think that works”. He had a confused look on his face - not many people wear seat belts in the country. There was an awkward silence as I fumbled to tuck it back under the seat. “Yup, she’s as old as dirt”.