Explore "My Brilliant Career" by Miles Franklin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tailboard, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to anyone on the ground only the heads of passengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high -- an awkward feat.
Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight.