I loved going for drives with Dad, he would always let me choose the music and never complained about my taste. It’s one of the little things that made him special to me. It made me feel like I was important, no one else let me choose the music.

Dad loved to go camping, and from a young age he encouraged me to develop an interest myself. The long drives up past Ballarat into the Victorian high country allowed for a lot of time to listen to music. Back then he drove around in a yellow tradesman van. It was one with only front seats and a large open space in the back. The windows even had flowered curtains. Similar to his house, his van was a mess. Discarded food wrappers, old drink cans and generally just filled with trash. It always had an interesting musky odour about it, not overpowering, just ever present. But hey, that's what all vans smell like right? Man I was naïve.