Ah, the Seventies – what a wild ride I was on with my mates

This little quip on Facebook tickled me: “I was minding my own business when suddenly 1976 was 50 years ago!”

Where were you in 1976?

I was living in the party mecca of Perth, Western Australia, after riding my Honda 750cc road bike across the gravel and bulldust of the Nullarbor to start a new job and hopefully finish my electrical apprenticeship.

There were probably easier ways to do this but the allure of an adventure was irresistible. And as they say, “Go west, young man.”

To offset the debauchery, I kept myself fit with regular karate training, snorkelling and purging my lungs with clean, fresh air at 160-plus klicks wherever possible.

I even got roped into supervising the Mount Pleasant under-11s footy team for a month until they found a real coach.

So many great bars, nightclubs, fishing spots and parties kept me from dwelling on my very poor job of maintaining a long-distance relationship with a gorgeous but naïve Miss Australia contestant living 3200km away in Mildura.

Even after I let her down gently, by just not writing or calling, we remained friends. She married my best mate and was matron of honour at my first wedding.

I bumped into her a couple of years ago and was pleasantly not surprised at how comfortably she displayed the elegance of a fine wine.

In 1976, life was for living and working was a means to that end.

My boss and I shared mutual disrespect and I didn’t hold out any hope of a partnership offer when I finished my time.

My final exam was due in November and I took a sickie to study.

Despite the brain-cell holocaust, the few survivors soldiered on fearlessly andI was reasonably confident of a satisfactory result.

I had agreed to be best man at a mate’s wedding in Mildura in January ’77 but didn’t fancy the return trip to endure the final agonising six months of my apprenticeship. So, I came up with an offer my boss couldn’t refuse: “If I score a credit pass in my final, how about you sign off my indentures in January?”

He agreed and a couple of mad mates and I headed back across the Nullarbor on our bikes.

One paragraph wouldn’t do this trek justice. I just want to thank the hippy dude in the floral Kombi for passing cold cans to us as we rode past and tapped on the side of his van.

A shout-out to the heat-struck lady who forgot she had handed me her baby in the Penong pub and freaked when she saw a bedraggled biker holding the infant as if it was about to explode.

Special thanks to the driver who followed me into the scrub, tooting his horn to wake me up when I dozed off near Eucla, WA.

On that New Year’s Eve, I received a letter from WA TAFE and immediately called my boss. He didn’t welch and I was a free, licensed electrician six months ahead of schedule.

Fast forward 50 years. If I had my time over, what would I do differently?

Absolutely nothing! I wouldn’t cheat myself out of any of the fun I had, and the lessons learned are invaluable.

As rebellious as I was, and still proudly am, my values are sound. Integrity is king and responsibility just happens as a consequence. No airs and graces. ‘Just get the job done’ is my motto.

In my book, Runaway Retiree, I gleefully relate many memorable escapades from my gifted life in the Seventies. The objective is to encourage readers to tap into the glory of growing up in the Seventies and vowing to do our best work in our seventies.

 Charlie Griffiths is a certified life coach and Neuro Linguistic Programming practitioner. Visit his website at charliegriffithscoaching.com