Howdy pardner, spare a dollar for a po’ ol’ down-on-his-luck cowboy? This is all what’s left of your ruggedly masculine buckaroo, Biggie the Kid. Strap yo’sef in, this tale’s just as sad as the day is long. Some time back I lassoed myself a steam engine and rode the rails on into Mount Gambier, lookin’ for cheap moonshine an’ cheaper womenfolk.
Oh, an’ Big Things – ain’t nothin’ that warms the cockles of this ol’ gunslinger’s heart quite like an anatomically-correct representation of two praying mantids. Yee-haw!
By the time I’d kissed all the moonshine and drunk all the womenfolk, the dadgum train line had been tore up. I was stranded in Mount Gambier with no way of getting home! Sure, there’s Uber, but with my 3.4-star rating and penchant for spitting tobacco all over the back seat, there was little chance of getting a ride.
Setting up camp in the town’s fancy-pants new Railway Lands park, broke an’ tired an’ down to my last pint of root beer, I prayed to the skies for a miracle. The Lord must’ve took pity on me, ‘cos paint me pink an’ call me a buffalo if I didn’t spot the largest set of railway signals in the whole wide world!
Of course I’m more comfortable punchin’ cows and swaggerin’ around in crotchless chaps than I am driving trains, so I have no idea how much bigger they was than a regular set of train signals. But shoot, they looked mighty fine to me!
Known as Signalling Change to the townsfolk, this remarkable piece was created by local artists Trevor Wren and Danica Gacesa McLean, who installed it on the grounds of the old train station. That day certainly signalled change for good ol’ Biggie the Kid…. in the worst darn-tootin’ way possible!
The Signals They Are A-Changin’
Exploring the substantial signals, with their playfully-painted portions and delightful-yet-functional seating options, the words of the artists’ flowed through this cowpoke’s brain like magic. Alright, maybe I was just ‘membering somethin’ I read online, but all that matters is that I’m going to share those quotes with y’all.
“This piece celebrates Mount Gambier’s rich railway history by referencing railway signals, crossing barriers and indicator lights,” the dynamic duo explained shortly before the unveiling in 2016. “Its larger-than-life scale invites visitors, the local community and especially children to explore and investigate railway visual communication through shape, colour and light.”
That’s exactly what I was going to say, pardners!
“Signalling Change will make a prominent statement both night and day, and be highly visible from a distance through its physical height and bold colour,” the artists continued. “The piece is child-friendly and offers tunnel-like apertures through which children can safely crawl and play.”
The only person who wasn’t provided with a safe space, however, was this handsome cowboy.
Biggie the Kid vs Literal Kids
I was posing for some super-cute – yet still really macho – photos, when a long, scary shadow fell upon me. Looking up, I spotted a posse of the meanest-lookin’ cattle rustlers I ever did see. There musta been half-a-dozen of ’em, each seven-foot-tall with rippling muscles and full beards.
Alright, alright, so maybe they was pre-teens on scooters, but they still looked really tough. The children started by hurling abuse about my effeminate sunglasses and ostentatious short-shorts, and progressed to hurling tin cans and dog poo-poo at me.
One particularly cruel street urchin, egged on by his chums, took my ornate wild western-inspired headdress and, in an act of insanity, trampled it.
It’s a sad world when a grown man can’t swagger flamboyantly through a children’s park in a pair of Daisy Dukes, thrusting rhythmically for the camera whilst twirling around a set of giant railway signals, without being the subject of hatespeech from a bunch of ruffians. Bigs not bigotry, as I like to say.
The bullies, who were joined by a smattering of parents and pensioners who really should’ve known better, only allowed me to leave after I hopped on one foot whilst singing I’m a Little Teapot through a waterfall of tears.
It was not my finest hour.
If only those no-goodniks put their energy into researching and admiring Big Things rather than petty street crime, the world would be a better place. Yee-haw!
