There must have been a drought about the time my parents separated. While we had a plentiful supply by this time of dirty water from the dam for most things, such as bathing, washing and the garden, I guess we had run out of drinking water.
In my step mother to be's (referred to by my mother as bitch, tart, whore) Morris Minor we drove down the bush track to the Tanjil River and filled two milk cans with fresh river water. The water was always icy cold, a tributary being Icy Creek.
(I just checked on google maps to make sure it was the Tanjil and not the Latrobe, as we lived between the two rivers. I am amazed that maps have so many of the bush tracks marked with names we never knew and the main road has even been google street viewed. Try Willow Grove Road and Cronin Track if you are bored)
I am not sure how we filled the milk cans with river water. They would be too heavy to lift when they were full, I would have thought. The Morry thought they were too heavy too and refused to go up the hill. My father turned the car around and successfully reversed up the hill. Reverse gear must have had a much lower ratio.
That is all, just so that I remember when I am no longer a teen.