"Stop!" I shrieked as we hurtled along the Bass Highway, south of Melbourne, Australia, "Stu-u-u... sto-o-o-op. It's the giant worm!"
Ha. Writing that makes me laugh. When I shouted at Hubby to stop, we were on our way from Melbourne to Victoria's Ninety Mile Beach, and from there heading up the Great Alpine Road to our motel in Bright, in the last month of what we called our "Great Adventure Downunder." Aptly named because everything in Australia seemed to be great. Or Giant. The "Great Ocean Road," the "Great Alpine Road," the "Giant Orange," the "Giant Pineapple." I could go on. So before we headed up the Great Alpine Road, we had to stop at the famous "Giant Worm." I mean, we had to, didn't we?
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Ha. Writing that makes me laugh. When I shouted at Hubby to stop, we were on our way from Melbourne to Victoria's Ninety Mile Beach, and from there heading up the Great Alpine Road to our motel in Bright, in the last month of what we called our "Great Adventure Downunder." Aptly named because everything in Australia seemed to be great. Or Giant. The "Great Ocean Road," the "Great Alpine Road," the "Giant Orange," the "Giant Pineapple." I could go on. So before we headed up the Great Alpine Road, we had to stop at the famous "Giant Worm." I mean, we had to, didn't we?
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| Our pub accommodation, somewhere in Australia, 2003. |
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