I'll always remember car trips with my father - sitting in the passenger seat, singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs, having long conversations about nothing in particular.
<Tab/>Our car trips were fortnightly events. On the Friday night, or sometimes the Saturday morning, he'd pick me up and drive me to his place, and then, on the Sunday evening, he'd drive me home again - always in time for dinner at six o'clock, never later, or Mum would get angry.
<Tab/>Back when I lived in Geelong, the trips would each last about an hour. I loved going over the…
