Tocka-tocka-tocka-tocka

Maybe it is saxophone players, but they are definitely the champs of absent mindedness and of those, Dave Rutledge was the best. Dagwood, so named because of his personality is a really nice bloke, very capable musician but dangerously forgetful. He told me this story himself so I suspect it was watered down somewhat. It all started when he bought a new runabout to go fishing outside.

Dagwood picked up his three mates, who dumped their rods, bait and slabs of VB into the boat and climbed into his Vee Dub. At the boat ramp, she was launched and held while Dave parked the car and trailer.

It was a great day. They caught enough fish to justify being out there and were approaching the ramp with the sun in their eyes, beer in their veins and joy in their hearts when Dagwood destroyed the mood. He could not find his car keys.

They searched their pockets. Tackle boxes were upturned, spilling the detritus of decades onto Dave’s new floor. Rusty hooks, loose sinkers and old bits of prawn shells were revealed, but no keys. Eventually in desperation they tipped their fish out of the Esky but when the bow touched the beach, they still had no keys and no more hiding places. Eventually after a period of reflection Boof came up with an idea.

‘Come on up to the car Dags,’ offered Boof. ‘I reckon I can hot wire it, get you home at least.’
So, while the others tidied up the mess, Boof grabbed pliers, some wire trace and with Dave in tow, headed for the car. A few metres short they stopped, listened then ran the last few strides to the driver’s door.

‘Tocka-tocka-tocka-tocka…..’
There were the keys, hanging in the ignition. And there was his little VW, doors unlocked and engine idling, ready to go home!