Imperial Quest

Kindly donated to AustralianBeers.com by Jennifer Fleck
All opinions those of JENNIFER Fleck

Long haul truck driving

The beginning of a life quest!

Yes, welcome to a new and exciting aspect of Jennifer Fleck's life filled with high adventure and passion rarely seen in one so cynical.  This story begins like most, a result of boredom on a Sunday afternoon and a need to convey some of the more exciting aspects of long haul truck driving.  When sitting high in the cab of a Mack truck, squashing yet another of Australia’s unique fauna beneath one of the 18 available wheels, there is often a need to tell others the true desires of what it is to be a truckie.  Having never been a long haul truck driver and lacking many of the qualities required, stubbies, beer gut, blue bonds singlet, IQ inversely proportional to the size of the truck, and of course the ever vital truck licence, I really have no idea what it is that truckies desire to tell the world, and frankly have little desire to know.

The truth of the matter is that on a recent trip through Northern NSW, with vague memories of a hangover from the previous night, a desire to fill the many stops on the way became a necessity.  Having noted on the way the number of pubs with Imperial in their title a life quest developed.  To visit every Imperial Hotel in Australia.  Yes, sit in awe when hearing such a quest, a quest as unlikely to succeed as the search for the holy grail, the second coming and someone able to sit through entire Peoples Choice Awards (including ads).

Welcome to the Imperial Quest, prepare for a needlessly wordy and irregular publication.  To quote some of the more infamous people in my life, I will not let the truth stand in the way of a good story. 
The wood panelled submarine

The Imperial Moree

The first stop on this amazing quest was the Imperial, Moree.  Travelling south from Brisbane on the Newell, a road unlike any other in the world (apart from tar, painted lines and traffic), the slight rise courtesy of a bridge on entering Moree provides excitement and mystery that the previous 500kms lack. 

The main street, like so many in rural Australia is wide.  The locals, having only recently mastered the concept of traffic lights, are now battling with the concept of roundabouts.  A malicious invention, that goes against the principle that the shortest path between two points is a straight line.  Consequently, any attempt to plant gardens in the middle of these roundabouts has been defeated by those in 4WD that just see them as another lump of dirt to drive straight through.  Truckies on the other hand, have developed a theory that they are merely the place where the guts of the potholes from the last 500km get together to have a social life. 

The pub itself is truly not worth a visit in my opinion. The access is off the main street, through a set of double doors that were new in the 70s and probably one of the rare forms of architecture that will never be considered vogue again.  To spare you the pain, the inside is something like a submarine with wood panelling, what natural light there is, struggles in between the gaps of the panelling.

The bar is run by the local CWA and obviously the choice place for a meal on pension day.  It also seemed popular with the many youthful mums in the area.  There does appear to be a height and width requirement, which can be surmised by the five by five rule (5’ high, 5’ wide).  The cotton pickin’ has obviously been good in this area.  The menu offered various cuts of steak, with chips. At least according to what I saw, their concept of a rare steak is one that is not yet black on the inside.  Total cost however reflects the clientele, $12 for a piece of rump, which could have completely covered Tasmania, wilderness areas and all, with chips in a basket, no room on the plate, and a middie of New.

One feature that is worth noting is the framed and aged newspaper clippings around the walls promoting the white Australia policy popular at the turn of the century.

Recommendation. Don’t.

A game to play while driving on the Newell  – Going to America.

See how long you can spend driving on the right hand side of the road whilst passing semis.  Only rule – must have a legitimate or legal reason to be on the wrong side of the road.

Star City goes to Coona

Imperial, Coonabarabran

Few people realise that the Imperial, Coonabarrabran is a sub branch of the Star City Casino, Sydney.  Yes this quiet country town has a gambling problem in its very heart and soul.  The Imperial is a well to do pub, with 3 bars and a passion for gambling.  The gaming room has more pokies than the small population of Coona’ can support.  Fortunately, like all the great casinos of the world there is a significant passing trade, people all around the world can recount stories of luck and misfortune at the Imperial Hotel in Coona.  Going through to the back bar, you have the opportunity to meet the true high rollers, a group of very classy young men and women willing to bet their last dollar on the PUBTAB.

Another interesting game they play in this pub is spot the tourist trying to find the loos.  The loos for some reason involve you passing through at least two of the three bars within the pub, and no matter how hard you try you always end up taking a different route to reach them.

The front bar, of which there are two so it’s the one on the right when facing the pub on the main street, also has a gambling theme; this one focused on the sport of kings.  This bar focuses on a particularly famous horse from the area and has many photos and memorabilia reflecting just how great this stead was.  The glass cabinet containing some of this great steads shite is one point that draws a lot of attention, (as does my ability to crap on). 

Overall the pub is the best of the three to be described in this edition.  Good clean fun with a wide selection of beers (more than two) on tap and bottled.  While the opportunity for a dining experience did not arise during my extended stay at this pub I can only imagine that is as wide and various as the many bars and sticks to your guts as firmly as the handshake of any of the locals.

Reccomendation: So nice you could take your granny

Paul’s handy travelling hint. 

When travelling in rural areas and in need of a slab of beer always ask the price before purchase.  This prevents being charged the tourist rate as opposed to the local rate for this mighty fine beverage.

Sex Drugs and Cons

The Imperial, Beenleigh

Whilst there is nothing remarkable about this particular pub in appearance, or service (other than a need to explain that a middie is the equivalent of a pot and a schooner is a schooner no matter where you are) it is the characters and adventures that can be had that really make this pub stand out.  A relatively recent renovation has seen the pub divide into two sections, the increasingly popular “gaming room” with rows of pokies, poorly lit and blue neon signs saying “gaming room” and crowds of grey haired pensioners.  The second bar is obviously aimed at the younger set in town.  A large room, a couple of pool tables and various tv’s scattered around.  A feature of note is the two grey velvet lounges that remained empty the whole time I was there.  Again they appeared to be a relic of a past I wish I could forget, with an assortment of stains and tares that I am sure have a history.  There is also a rather large portrait of a naked woman whom I think is called Chloe.   Happy to be corrected on that one.  It was obviously a place in Beenleigh where things really started to happen once it was dark enough not to have to look at the other people in the room.  

The story attached to this pub is more to do with the characters and opportunities that presented when I was there.  I was fortunately travelling with a friend who can verify that the following did happen.  Some time during my first middie of VB, (XXXX was on offer but I like to alternate) a young man came up and told us a sad and sorry story of how he needed to get home to Inala, none of his family were able to pick him up and what money he did have had fallen out of his pocket along with “some of the best heads, I've had in a long time”.  When such things present themselves to me I usually say piss off, however my good friend said “sure we’ll give you a lift”.  Well goodness me, in the next hour forty minutes the following happened:

He (Robbo) introduced us to his best mate that he had just met that morning called Daks.  Daks was in a similar position but had a mate coming to pick him up.  Daks was very proud of his name and happy to tell you that there was only one of him in this world.  For this fact I am truly greatful.  Daks and Robbo than gave us a comparative study of the courthouses in Inala and Beenleigh.  Inala apparently has only one courtroom in the courthouse; Beenleigh apparently does a lot more business and has eight.  Robbo very kindly explained that he was only recently out from a four-year stint for GBH and that he was now working very hard had lots of money and lots of drugs.

On the one hour trip to drop Robbo off at his mums place (who interestingly enough was his grandmother and his real mum was actually his sister, the question is, was his father his brother or his sisters father/grandmas husband).  He did find time to tell us that god was looking kindly on him and strongly recommended that one should never have relationships as they take everything and leave you with nothing.  One of his many sisters/aunts owned four Mack’s with her partner, a fact that he was very pleased with and felt compelled to tell us at regular intervals during the journey.  As he had no money but did have various substances secreted about his person would that be acceptable payment.  Giving him a lift home apparently was some indication of gods faith in him, so he also felt compelled to ask us if he could at least take us out.  Having declined all his offers, he then decided that the best he could offer was a threesome, again we thanked him for the very kind offer, however felt that if that was the case he would not be decreasing his debt to us but increasing in greatly.

Recommendation:  You want a story to tell your kids, try the Imperial at Beenleigh

Tips from the inside

If ever you are in the unfortunate position to be placed in the Inala nick the code to get out is 4436.