Way Free


Before the F3 became the M1, it was known as the F3. However what I liked best about this particular stretch of freeway was the way it was signposted. I’d be returning home after spending time with the family, and painted onto Pennant Hills Road were the words WAY FREE.

ImageIn actual fact, they probably said “FREE WAY” but I consistently read it as WAY FREE. Because over time, the F3 (now the M1) came to represent to me the way free. The way free from family squabbles, or the stress of expectation. The way free from having to force myself back into the role of the daughter or the sister. It wasn’t that these were bad roles – not at all. Just that since I’d lived in Newcastle, I’d grown up. I’d changed. So after spending time as a personality yogi-master, the writing on Pennant Hills Road indeed signaled to me the WAY FREE. 

Yesterday was no exception. My beloved and I were making our way home. My sister and I had exchanged words, one of which was “atrocious”, which I didn’t cope well with. My beloved was driving, I was doing a mixture of sulking, crying and being angry, and was becoming increasingly aware of my bladder.

As we approached the twin servos on the F3 (yes, yes, M1), I let my beloved know I needed her to stop. We pulled in, I ducked into the loo, and the floodgates opened.

It was as I finished up that I realised there was no toilet paper in the stall I was in.

I checked my pockets. I had a receipt – not absorbent – and a small ball of fluff – not big enough. I looked at the stall from every angle – not a scrap of toilet paper to be seen.

Due to a packing miscalculation, I had no undies on, so the questionable drip-dry wasn’t an option.

Then my eyes fell on my right hand.

ImageNow, if you look closely, you can see that under the splint is a bandage. It’s actually more like a fingerless glove. I have to wear it under the splint so that I don’t get blisters or sweaty. As I gazed at my hand and wrist, I remembered the time that my hand therapist dedicated to crafting these little glove-type things. She made me two of them.

Now I only have one.

The other is frolicking in the sewage system at the twin servos on the F3 (M1).

Lucky I had two.



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