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maelorin at 07:12pm on 26/01/2003
maelorin at 07:12pm on 26/01/2003OK. I get this message on the answering machine that I can't decipher, some guy looking for my father, but doesn't say why. Now, I'm looking after my parents house while they're off enjoying their newly minted retirement. They're a couple of thousand kilometres away.
So, anyway, he calls again and leave another cryptic message.
Finally, I'm home when he calls and I discover that he's a member of a Soaring Club (meaning he flies gliders) and would like to buy dad's glider. So far, nothing remarkable.
BUT! The glider in question was last seen by us some 20 years ago. Yep. Dad gave it to a friend with the intention of fixing it - something wrong with the wings. Anyway, soon after, we move overseas for a few years. Then we come back to Australia. We even live in the same city as the glider, now long out of memory.
A few weeks ago, this guy is talking to a friend, and jokingly asks about a particular glider that he last saw a few decades ago ... well anyway, he discovers that dad had it. Well, got his name - OK, his nickname.
From that, and the name of the city, he looks up the Civil Aviation Safety Authority register - but the glider isn't registered - and hasn't been for twenty years. It turns out that every glider has a nickname derived from its registraiton number. That gives him a name and address - only they're not only out of date, but they're wrong. Great. Dead end.
Not quite. He discovers, talking ot the gliding club in the city where the glider was last seen, that the glider still exists - in storage - and that my dad had been living in the city until a decade ago. From Mum's name and occupation - nurse - he digs around a bit more. From the hospital he is pointed to their current address - which gives him a phone number out of the phone book.
So he calls. And calls. And I give him my parents contact details over in Western Australia, and thats all going tikity boo, so I hear.
So, anyway, he calls again and leave another cryptic message.
Finally, I'm home when he calls and I discover that he's a member of a Soaring Club (meaning he flies gliders) and would like to buy dad's glider. So far, nothing remarkable.
BUT! The glider in question was last seen by us some 20 years ago. Yep. Dad gave it to a friend with the intention of fixing it - something wrong with the wings. Anyway, soon after, we move overseas for a few years. Then we come back to Australia. We even live in the same city as the glider, now long out of memory.
A few weeks ago, this guy is talking to a friend, and jokingly asks about a particular glider that he last saw a few decades ago ... well anyway, he discovers that dad had it. Well, got his name - OK, his nickname.
From that, and the name of the city, he looks up the Civil Aviation Safety Authority register - but the glider isn't registered - and hasn't been for twenty years. It turns out that every glider has a nickname derived from its registraiton number. That gives him a name and address - only they're not only out of date, but they're wrong. Great. Dead end.
Not quite. He discovers, talking ot the gliding club in the city where the glider was last seen, that the glider still exists - in storage - and that my dad had been living in the city until a decade ago. From Mum's name and occupation - nurse - he digs around a bit more. From the hospital he is pointed to their current address - which gives him a phone number out of the phone book.
So he calls. And calls. And I give him my parents contact details over in Western Australia, and thats all going tikity boo, so I hear.
blah
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