Rural vets are totally dependent on their vehicles to do their work. Rarely do our patients come to us so our cars or utes become our offices. While many vets have preferences for a particular shape or make of vehicle they all have one thing in common. Inside, they all smell the same. It’s a combination of drugs, antiseptics, used overalls, wet boots, the odd bit of animal tissue gone bad and ruminant faeces. We get used to the smell but our families never seem to.

We have to cover a fair bit of ground on our house calls, so we spend a lot of time sitting behind the wheel. My car is my communication centre. By cell phone or radio-telephone I keep in touch with the rest of the practice and the radio keeps me in touch with the rest of the world. It’s also my entertainment centre. Long trips are helped by having good music in the background. As I’ve said the car is my office. Materials used at the last job and mileages to the job are recorded before I head off to the next farm call. A tape recorder to note thoughts or advice for the farmer that might come to mind while driving are also part of some vets’ office equipment. Too often the front seat is also my cafeteria. One of the joys of large animal practice is actually being able to relax after a morning or afternoon’s work, having a cup of tea and bite to eat with the farmer and family. But often I am running late and it is 40 minutes’ drive to the next call, so I forgo that pleasure and eat a sandwich or apple and drink my thermo-cup of lukewarm tea on the way.

When I was in full-time clinical practice anyone looking through the driver’s window undoubtedly thought ‘what a mess’ — notepad, day diary, record forms, prescription pad, certification pads for different contingencies scattered all over the floor and passenger seat and intermingled with an apple or two, water bottle, used thermo-cup, reading glasses, cell phone and a couple of parcels to drop off at farms on the way. In the early days my bull terrier mate Roo enjoyed snuggling among this collection of everyday requirements, things that needed to be within arm’s reach. And anyone looking into my boot would have thought ‘what a shambles’. The boot was my workbench and storeroom and I knew where everything was. It might have taken a bit of shifting of boots and bottles to get to an infrequently used piece of equipment but I always knew where to go.

So in a funny sort of way I got quite fond of my vehicle, and when I had to abandon it and use another means of transport to get to a job, as was not infrequently the case, I felt as if I didn’t have a mate along for the ride. However, with all the different cars I have had over my 40 years of veterinary practice none have meant as much to me as the aeroplanes I have flown and used for work. Perhaps it is the sheer thrill I get out of flying but in fact it is more than that. These planes have all given me moments of excitement, fear and pain, as well as spectacular and unique scenery and wonderful peace.

I first started flying soon after graduating and coming to work in Marlborough. At that time the Graham Veterinary Club frequently used the local Marlborough Aero Club to fly vets to various far-away jobs. Often it meant the pilot had to hang around all day while we did the work although they were in many instances very useful vet assistants. As I had always wanted to fly it seemed the logical step for me to get my pilot’s licence and then see if I could actually fly myself to the jobs. Once I did get my private licence, I could understand and appreciate why the Marlborough Aero Club was reluctant to let an inexperienced pilot take its planes into remote back-country airstrips. I really needed to get some experience with my own plane, where there were no restrictions on where I went, and in 1985 I became a quarter owner of a 90HP Piper Cub BQX. While it was a delight to fly it was very light and had the horrible tendency of wanting to fly even when I wasn’t in it. In the very slightest of breezes BQX needed thorough tethering to the ground whenever I left it to do any veterinary work. BQX was sold after a year and I next became a half-share owner in a Piper Colt EEW. While this two-seater was underpowered and had limited short take-off and landing (STOL) characteristics I gave myself more scares and thrills in it than any other. It was the machine in which I really learned to fly in the mountains. Unfortunately it all came to an end when I crashed on landing on a farm strip in Kekerengu (see ‘Flying and Work’ in Cock and Bull Stories).

After EEW was wrecked and I had recovered from a rather nasty knock to the head I flew one of the world’s favourite back-country planes, the Piper Super Cub. BPG was owned by Lands and Survey who owned Molesworth Station, but it was kept at Omaka near Blenheim and managed by the Marlborough Aero Club. It really was a delight to fly and a very practical machine to use for veterinary work in the back country. However, it too had a sad ending when it blew over and was wrecked one night. Although I had tied the plane down well behind the super-bin on a topdressing strip on Mike and Kristen Gerard’s property in Clova Bay in the Marlborough Sounds, it blew over in some severe squally wind conditions. I had overnighted on Pohuenui Station in the outer Sounds, having gone there by boat. As we came into the jetty on returning to Clova Bay, I could see wheels rather than wings outlined against the super-bin. Not a pretty sight and as she was the favourite plane of all pilots I was definitely not Popular Pete at the aero club after that.

For the last 20 years I have been flying an ex-topdressing plane, a Piper Pawnee CIQ I bought off a local ag pilot Ray Patchett. While it is slow and uses far too much fuel it has heaps of power, a large hopper which can carry lots of equipment as well as three jerry cans of spare fuel, and copes well with short rough farm airstrips or paddocks. Another advantage of having a hopper is that I do not get clouted in the back of the head by airborne pieces of equipment when I get into turbulence — a not infrequent event in my other planes. I find it ideal for the job and love flying it.

Because of Marlborough’s topography, with several mountain ranges separating fertile farmed valleys, an aeroplane has been indispensable. Often I will do a full day’s work from the plane, involving several calls and far more than would be possible by driving. However, unlike the car where I have learned to carry most things for most contingencies, when flying I do have to think of everything I might need for the day and what to take out of the car and put into the hopper before taking off. On a few occasions I have forgotten important pieces of equipment, including basics such as gloves and lubricant when pregnancy testing cows, and emasculators when castrating horses. You just make do. On another occasion I didn’t take enough Tuberculin to TB test a deer herd. I really couldn’t make do then and had to fly back to town for more, an hour and a half round trip.

So for rural practitioners our vehicles, whatever they may be, are a vital piece of equipment and absolutely essential for the job. Surprisingly, unlike some urban professionals with super-smart 4WD SUVs, which seldom get out of 2WD, no rural vet I know gets too sentimental about his vehicle.