‘I drove for 44 hours straight’

THE Aussie comedian has revealed his most epic road trip — and what was waiting for him at the other end.

Dave Hughes had one heck of an adventure.

“TELL us another story about Christmas, Dad,” asked my daughters Sadie, five, and three-year-old Tess from the back of our SUV as I drove them to kinder last week.

The girls love Christmas, and as my car doesn’t have Christmas carols on high rotation like their mother’s does, a tale would have to do.

“I once drove across Australia without stopping just so I could be home for Christmas,” I tell them.

“You didn’t even stop for food, Dad?” asks clever and sceptical Sadie.

“Okay, I stopped for food and petrol, but that’s it. I didn’t sleep at all. I drove for forty four hours straight from Perth to Warrnambool.”

The girls aren’t as impressed with my story as I’d thought they’d be. After all, it was a fair effort.

The truth is I love Christmas too. Not as much as my wife does admittedly. I think her parents named her Holly after a premonition of her love for that holiday. I love it because it is often the one time of year our extended family is together.

The year I drove non-stop across Australia to be home for Christmas was 1994. It was way before Holly or the kids were on the scene.

I had just turned 24 and had been living in Perth for two years. I had always been home on Christmas Day. The previous year, my parents had given me the money to fly home. It was very generous of them — airfares were expensive back then, and I know at the time they wondered whether my crazy dream of being a comedian would ever provide the money to pay them back.

That had been my first time on a plane, but this year I was determined to get home under my own steam I had also decided my comedy act needed a bigger stage so I was moving to Melbourne. I had bought an old XB Falcon for $350, which was all I could afford as fledgling comedian and part-time cucumber picker.

I packed that big old beast with my meagre belongings and set off from Subiaco for the 3500km journey to my home town Warrnambool on the southwest coast of Victoria. It was a Friday and I was determined to get there for Christmas lunch on the Sunday.

I did have a co-driver. Well, a passenger actually. He was a mate who liked to drink and he turned it into an interesting trip.

Although I couldn’t trust him to drive, he did keep me company but his constant calls for toilet breaks were annoying.

The car didn’t have a heater and the Nullarbor desert at night is not warm. The cold helped keep me awake though on that ridiculously long stretch of road.

My main memory of the trip was my intoxicated passenger advising me to pull over for a break while I was driving through the Adelaide Hills after I’d told him I felt like we were in a space ship. It was night; there were a lot of lights.

It was wise advice but after a short break we were driving again. I was on a mission. I was as determined as Santa. And we made it, in plenty of time to devour Mum’s delicious lunch and famous homemade Christmas pudding. I finally nodded off on the couch while the family were watching our traditional Christmas night movie. I went for a drive that next day too.

But it wasn’t a long one as the engine of the XB Falcon blew within a couple of minutes. I didn’t begrudge her demise. I was home.