Summer of ‘79 school holidays, proudly sitting high in the R model Mack, Eden’s Pride, beside my Pop, we were heading bush for another load of logs. A call came over the CB from a cheeky loader driver asking where we were. I asked Pop if I could answer – getting the nod, I grabbed the CB and said we were 20 minutes away. 

The reply from the cheeky loader driver who was a one-eyed Kenworth man, told me to tell my grandfather to pedal the gutless Mack a bit harder. I was having none of this – no-one was going to call Eden’s Pride a gutless Bulldog. So, for the next 20 minutes the to-ing and fro-ing continued until we reached the logging dump. The cheeky loader driver, with a smirk on his face, told me to jump up on the bullbar and put my finger up the Bulldog’s bum and tell him if it was gutless. So with an 8-year-old boy’s swagger, I jumped up on the bullbar and put my finger up the Bulldog’s bum. To my horror and dismay, I found out that the Bulldog was, in fact, hollow.