3.  Same Same, but different

It had been a while since I travelled any distance to check out a car crash. Easter 2006 started with a report I had heard on TV about a car, which had rolled over. The address, on Grand Junction Road, the way it was announced or whatever I sensed, something made me drive the five kilometers or so to check it out.

Christianity's logo, the cross, is in the shape of a junction or intersection. And doesn't the adjective grand fit perfectly? 

It was Easter Thursday, 13/4/06. Already I was in fine form with numbers. It was the day I woke at 1.11am, after retiring to bed exactly 120 minutes earlier at 11.11pm. I had risen later again at 5.11 am to write a poem to a radio station in Melbourne (see Chapter 2). 

As I neared  the site of the crash, turning right into the street I was going to park at, my hunch seemed confirmed - there was something funny and fishy. I read the street name, which I now remembered. On that corner I had taken down an election poster after the 2004 Federal Poll. The name of the street was Down Dr. I smiled to myself, thinking - just this name alone was worth the drive down. (There is a far more impacting message in that name - I had understood THE message already in 2004). 

Off Down Drive was a small carpark, behind Foodland Shopping Centre. A Ute was just pulling out, registration No. "See Victory Cross 010". My illness had either taken on gigantic proportions or the network of silent supporters was actively at work. Just as God was doing HIS part, it was nice to know that there were secret fans doing their parts. How I wished sometimes, it weren't so secret.  

There was nothing much to see at the crash, a Ford on the back of a tow-truck, ready to be taken away. I found the T-shirt of a bystander interesting - 48 DIODORA. It was pure speculation on my part (allow me to call it possibility thinking) to see a link. I had only 2 hours earlier sent an email highlighting No. 6, finishing  a poem with this number in (see previous chapter). 

Number 6 would complete 486, one which had turned up with great impact weeks earlier. (It will again at the end of this chapter - after discovering 864 in total surprise). 

In another strange twist my other friend, the number 5, as if desperately jealous, grabbed my attention in an inexplicable way. I had gotten dressed rather quickly that morning and put on the first T-shirt I could find at the bottom of my wardrobe. I had not seen it before, but liked it. (One of my sons must have discarded it - no better place than Dad's wardrobe). 

The reason I liked it, I had just completed book 4, which had 34 chapters and the T-shirt had a large number 43 on the front. As soon as I had seen the man wearing No. 48, I just smiled, I can't remember if I saw the six to complete 486 or the difference from 48 to 43 = 5, without using a calculator. 

Later that day, as I did some grocery shopping, my number five must have still not gotten over it's jealousy. It had to make another appearance, together with, who else, a few Number 1s. My wife had only just come out of hospital after having a Nephrectomy (a kidney removed). 

I felt doubly special that day. Firstly, I scored a new T-shirt with No. 43 on it, plus I met somebody wearing one with N0. 48. And secondly, I felt special, because my wife had put together a shopping list for three different stores and given me all the specials to buy.  

Again TUM (Totally unplanned magic) just happened, without trying, calculating or even thinking about it. All three dockets of my purchases made up numbers that fitted in somewhere. Here they are, just for some fun:




1. (Shown above): At the Fruit and Vegetable shop in Salisbury I had bought $11.10 worth of goods. (Remember I had woken at 1.11am). The scales for the bunch of bananas I picked up showed 1.305 kg. The next item, ALmonds, came to $ 3.15. They were TXBL (taxable) with GST (VAT in the UK) at 53 cents.

2. At our local Supermarket the docket read $ 11.15, exactly 5 cents more than in Salisbury. (Where did I read about 1115 recently? Aha, the 1115 magic on Nelson Road had happened 11 days prior). 

3. At the Clovercrest Shopping Centre I paid $ 30.41. I saw the date 13/4. 

So, next time you are worried about the high cost of food, look at your docket carefully. If any numbers make up that day's date or your birthday, or you had to go to the toilet that night, when the numbers on the clock matched those on your grocery bill, appreciate how special you must be. Inflation will sound far less of a calamity. 

 - - - - - - -


(Back to the car crash)

The early model ForD, which had allegedly rolled over between Wandana and Nelson Road, landing in the front yard of a private residence, looked surprisingly undamaged. As I prepared this chapter I saw, for the first time that Wandana Ave in Da Ninci code, gives a clear message, no two. 

1. Wandana = Victories, DNA & a N

2. Starting at the end: A n a d won. 

Either way, for a long time now I have had confirmation, albeit in this coded fashion, that many who followed my mystical story agreed - the man who could be in jail until 2026 and whose name could be changed from Liddy to Lindy, by swapping d to n, is indeed innocent. 

I have been praying, almost daily, that something will be done in this case. I am sure that the truth would be revealed, if this case were to be re-examined. There is a battle being fought, however, on a different level, not only over this injustice, but all injustices on earth.

 The winner has already won the grand final - on the first Easter. 

- - - - - - -

(This is not the crash reported above) 

One evening recently I heard about a crash on the corner of Montague and Walker's Road. I knew it was meant to be Walkley's Road. After much struggling if I should, I did. Yes, there were plenty of codes, for another time, perhaps.  

Something struck me straight away, however. The damage on the small truck hardly looked severe enough to warrant what happened to the ForD shown above.  

- - - - - - -


Since Isobel was unable to go outdoors, we had no plans made for Easter. TUM just happened. The U in TUM stands for unplanned. (Totally unplanned magic). The Church Service on Good Friday, the most sacred of all Christian holidays, was deeply touching. I found myself sitting beside two couples. Both their husbands were called Jason. (Later I filled up my car with petrol. The attendant was called Jason). 

Words fail me to describe the emotion I felt that morning. I came close to walking out in tears. On the screen graphic scenes from Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ made me turn aside and look elsewhere. I couldn't find the strength to watch the brutality of it all. Parents were warned to leave the children outside for this ten-minute segment. 

On arrival everybody had received a large nail to hold throughout the service. It really drove home the message, what it must have cost HIM to go through with it. The pastor gave a simple Easter Message: Jesus died despite your wrong doing, your bad habits, your human sinful nature. Allow HIM to have them nailed to the cross today.


Good Friday 06 started in style. Opening the Bible I was to read, the book fell open to this picture on page 1390. There was more CM (Cross Magic) to come later in the day.


Everyone also had a red piece of paper under their chair to specifically write down the weaknesses, the indulgences, harmful habits, sins etc. they are holding onto. After a short while, one by one, people walked to the front and pinned their list onto the cross with the nail. 

Soon there was hardly any room for another red piece of paper. The pastor then covered it all with a white cloth, as one covers a dead body. After a final hymn, he removed the white cloth. Jesus' body had gone and so had all the pieces of paper. It really was a great visual demonstration how simply it is to receive a fresh start with a clean slate.

(I was thinking to myself, what interesting afternoon reading those pieces of paper would have made).

Leading up to Easter in our local free Newspaper I had seen a small advertisement for a free production of the Musical "The Witness", the story of the Apostle Peter. I liked the word free. But I liked something else as well - the address where the play was to be held - Magnolia Ave, Tanunda. (Magnolia Ave in Riverside, California holds strong memories). But just because I liked the street address didn't make me put it into my diary.

Some friends at church on Good Friday Morning told me they were driving to Tanunda that afternoon to watch the advertised musical. Since I had no other plans I contemplated going. I always affirm with God - if you want me there Lord, I will be, no matter what. I was. 

Tanunda is the largest town of a major wine growing region, called the Barossa Valley. It is about 50 minute's drive away. I found Magnolia Ave rather easily. The Sunday prior I had cycled from Tanunda to Nuriootpa, six or seven kilometers east. This is how I registered the name Magnolia Ave the second time. 

I was five minutes late arriving. A man greeted me at the door, but did not offer to show me to a seat. At first glance there were no vacant seats amongst the two thousand (a wild guess) strong audience. The show had started as I walked down the side looking for a seat. What a relief when I spotted a single seat. It was a little inconvenient, because those seated could have left the isle seat vacant. (There may have been a reason?)

The place was attached to the Faith Lutheran Church. The Barossa Valley holds a strong German population and influence. It was first settled by Christians, who fled Germany to avoid persecution in their homeland Silesia.

The venue was of a much higher standard than I had expected. The quality of the singing also was very classy, surprisingly professional for a free, not at all amateur, performance.

Settling into my seat after a few minutes in the play a thought struck me. I needed to check it out. I did. Twice. Aha, the vacant seat I had chosen was the fourth from the isle in row seven. (Maybe I should have written on the red piece of paper that morning - Lord I sacrifice my madness - linking numbers - and glued it to the cross? But many more numbers were waiting at another church called Zion, read on).  

Walking out, after about 70 minutes of inspiring entertainment, I wished it was only interval. I didn't see my friends from church or didn't recognize anybody's face. Walking back to the car I decided to drive to nearby Angaston and take a walk. What a walk it was going to be, totally unplanned. Let me say, I had no map or planned, where to walk to. I didn't know any street names. It had been years since visiting Angaston. 

- - - - - - - -

When I wrote my dairy about my find Loot I had not seen the 0 in a different colour. It was days after the 486 0 episode. At first I walked past it on the way to the post office. On the way back I saw no reason to not pick it up. Or was it curiosity again? 

Above photo of the car crash was taken on the corner of the K-Mart shopping complex. 

- - - - - - - 

I parked the Suzuki outside the Hotel at Angaston and walked east, up Murray Street, the main street of this cute little town. The Jensen Car Club must have had an outing. Four or five of these sports cars came down Murray Street. All of them had personalized registration plates, JENSEN or JENS, plus others I just can't remember.

Seeing the JE and Jensen I was a little amused. I could see two connections, one to downtown Melbourne, another to Bair Athol, Adelaide. I didn't know it yet, I was to see more sports cars with special registration plates later that afternoon.  

At the top end I turned left, because I had never walked that street before. After only a hundred meters or less I read the name of the side road on the left - Cross Street. Fancy God leading me right here, on Good Friday. I was amazed. Now as I write it brings tears to my eyes. 

The next street over was Newcastle Street. I saw a number of sheep, seven, on a vacant block of land. One of the sheep was particular timid and let me touch it through the wire fence. Then I did what any helpful animal lover would do. The sheep was on the other side, where all the grass had been eaten. On my side was still much green. I helped out the sheep on the other side, pulling out bits of green to feed the sheep on the inside.

In prayer on the morning before writing, the picture came to me. Jesus asked Peter, the apostle: "Do you love me?" 

"Of course," Peter said. Jesus repeated the question three time. Peter was adamant that he loves his master. In the end Jesus says - If you love me, feed my sheep. I had just been to the life story of Peter in a fine performance of music and song. Here I was, minutes later, feeding a sheep.

- - - - - - - -

At this point in my writing I had breakfast. I switched on ABC Newsradio. The first (and only) item in my 30 seconds (literally) of listening, I heard an item relayed from the BBC, London. It was about a controversy involving sheep. 

Under great opposition, one enterprising farmer was hoping to place advertisements beside the motorway. They would appear on the back of his flock of sheep. He was hoping to find plenty of paying advertisers. 

Businessman: "How did you hear about our wonderful product:

Client: "I was driving along the M13 and looked into a paddock. There it was - a colourful sign on a sheep's back. I love those colours, so I couldn't resist ..."

Britain's farmers must be in a bad way to have to go to such extremes to feed their sheep. But then I heard it said often - Australia was made what it is, riding on a sheep's back.

I wonder, if the BBC reporter knew that Cherie Blair's hairdresser, Andre Suard, already has an option of 200 sheep's backs beside the M 53 and that he had started his career as a sheep-shearer's apprentice near Innisfail, Queensland? A classical rags to riches story, our Andre. 

Thank God for the internet, where you can read some unemployed blogger's detailed literature and get the whole story and the whole truth.    

- - - - - - - -

(Back to Angaston)

At the end of Newcastle Street the road turns left and changes to Tyne Street. The similarity to Tynte Street, North Adelaide immediately came to mind, by doing my trick with the t. I had written a letter to 202 Tynte Street. 

If my geography is correct, Newcastle in the UK is on the River Tyne. They have a Bridge very much like the Sydney Harbour Bridge and (how TUM is this!) at one stage one of the world's best football players - Alan Shearer played for Newcastle.



Murray Street, Angaston, Barossa Valley, South Australia

(Photo from the tourist bureau website).


I took the trail, which winds along the Creek at the back of the town to reach the Main Road to German Pass. It was called Penrice Road, because it also leads to Penrice. In the distance on my right I spotted what looked like an ancient stone building. On closer examination it was an ancient stone building, called Union Chapel.

The small Chapel, which looked more like a cottage, because it has no tower, is one of the oldest buildings in the whole district, built in 1844.(In  Australia this is ancient). It had been beautifully restored some years earlier.  

A plague informed that this chapel became too small and a larger church was built in Murray Street. To have a look I walked back the same way I had come from. There were virtually no other tourists around, which surprised me, being Easter. The cold weather was the reason. On my walk to check out the new church I spotted on the ground the familiar colours of a fantale wrapper.

Immediately there was this Aha prompting, but I walked on. After all, it was a holy day and picking up such material had become almost like work to me. I walked on at first, but my mind ticked over. What was the address on that plastic bag next to he fantale? Curiosity, plus the feeling something was brewing, made me turn and pick up both.



Left: I changed the details on the label to keep privacy. As I wrote my diary and glued the address into it, the code 1963 had emerged, with only basic mathematics application. The street address, House number 4, street name meaning trash, rubbish, in German, I got the message; for trash. 

Later I found the address on the way back in Tanunda. There were not many driveways. One of them had two vehicles, both with the numbers - 053 and 535. The next morning, within minutes of leaving home I had seen three parked vehicles 253, plus one 5353. After a while the probabilities need considering, before dismissing it all as trash. 

Right: Would it not be a great co-incidence if I saw and picked up another fantale wrapper, and this second one in my story would have the same name printed on it. This is almost what happened. Ryan Philippe - born 9.10.74)



But the numbers game was just beginning. As I stood outside the Zion Lutheran Church, built in1855, made of white stone with a tower, which made it look like a church, I glanced at the sign outside. I was not calculating or searching for anything. How it happened is a mystery, but my brain suddenly said: There is today's date in those numbers. 

A second glance made me check it and realize it was so. If I took away the prefix 85, the remainder of their phone number was indeed Good Friday's date. Even the year's 26 was included. But there was more. The Street address was 85 Murray Street. 

The internet, combined with a search engine, makes such a powerful tool. (If I were to tell fairy-tales here, anybody could google and find me wrong in seconds). Looking up Zion online later I found all this matching data. It all made sense. 

Just now, as I re-read my diary I discovered something else. If I changed the Minister's German name, replacing L with an O it would create the German for - i King. Plus, strange, but true, the membership online was given as 447. I had sat on seat 4 in row 7 only hours earlier at the Witness. 

It was time to return to the car, which I since found out, was parked in Sturt Street. I must mention one registration plate, a Ute, right near the church, registration plate ... 316.

A moment later still in Murray Street, I paused for a considerable time, looking the the display of the Historical Society's shop window. For whatever reason a display of old buttons made me start counting. To be totally honest, perhaps I was looking for a pattern, a match up to the church phone number or that day's date or my mother-in-law's street address? I took a photo, so I could continue my search at home, if I would not find something immediately (just kidding).


Historical Society, Angaston. The article on the right, I think, tells the story, how in the early days of the colony, before coins were made, they used buttons instead. But before rushing and starting a fancy button collection, visit Angaston, to find out for yourself!

The postcode is 5353.

- - - - - - -


A few meters around the corner, right by my car door, it was so obvious, I saw a piece of long, thin, hard packing tape. It was in the shape of a J, not blue but white.  I wasn't going to bother with it. But I hate trash littering the road. And one day perhaps I may want to donate it to the Historical Society just around the corner.  

My next step was to simply drive home via Mount Torrens* and Birdwood. Not far after passing the Yalumba Winery on my right, I felt uneasy, my heart beating slightly faster, my chest tightening. It was not like I was having a heart problem, I had this feeling many times before. Was I driving in the wrong direction? (*correction - Mt. Pleasant).

At first I did not respond. Driving home via this route, despite a little longer, would make it a round trip, which I preferred. There was no reason to return via Gawler, the way I had come. What did this feeling, this spirit, want me to do. I prayed silently, as usually, and a short distance later turned around. The heaviness in my chest eased immediately. 

The carpark in Yalumba Winery was empty, except a small white sedan. The registration plate meant nothing (my apologies to owner). I continued and turned to follow a sign, No. 4 Tourist Drive, which brought me back to towards Tanunda. Then I remembered the label I had picked up on the way from Union Chapel. Why not check out the address of ...4 (Trash) Street. (See above). 

Now I remembered something else I had seen earlier in the day. On the way before 'The Witness' Concert at Roland Flat, I had spotted a sign in passing: 'Austin-Healey' ....and  Rally... was just about all I could grasp. At the time I was pushing to not miss the start of the concert, so ignored it. Was this event, where I was meant to go, instead of driving home the other way? 

It was getting late, toward 5pm. If the car rally was combined with a BBQ-picnic, it would have finished long before, probably. It felt right however, to be driving there and just having a look anyway. (At this point I visited Tanunda, checking out the 'Trash' Street address - see above).  

The place at Rowland Flat, the Novotel Resort, was the same venue, where I had driven to on 22/8/03. The Breakfast TV Show Sunrise had broadcast on location with the spectacular Barossa Valley vineyards as a backdrop. I had passed on some little gifts to the hosts (Mind Chapter 8). 

To my surprise many of the Austin Healey sports cars were still there, parked in the carpark. The event was not merely a local race, it was the National Rally, plus a sleepover at the resort. One vehicle had actually come from Sweden. It carried registration plate DAT 715. Another from interstate also carried my numbers -  96315.

There were many other registration plates, which made me wonder, if this was all ...? (AH! Austin Healey - AUS in T?? Do I sense something?) 



Austin-Healey Owner's Club National Rally, Easter 2006, Novotel Resort, Rowland Flat, South Australia.

Top: Entry from Sweden DAH 715.(Owner's name Romeo?)

Middle: The owner of this white beauty from NSW took the photo. For once I didn't want to be the one, who only takes the photo. (The trouble is they would not allow me in the AH Owner's Club, because I am still paying off my 190 000 Dollar machine, ha ha). 

Bottom: That one.

- - - - - - -










Wosleley 444, outside our premises 24 Good ... the day we sold it in 1989. 

This is the vehicle we owned from 1973 until 1989. After scanning above Austin Healey I saw the similarity to our Wolseley 444. The Lucas Headlights, the small parking light, foglights and the identical overrider, attached to the bumper bar. 

But friends as if an intelligent designer had it all planned from Day 1. The registration UXD 864 nearly bowled me over when I saw it a moment ago. 

But there was more - scanning the photo I didn't resize it after I saw the numbers. 420 x  (306 plus 10 = ....)         (864-444=...) TUM.     

- - - - - - -


Friends, nobody except a higher power, Almighty God, could have arranged or indeed revealed these number, by accident, to an ordinary bloke, who all his life was teaching people how to drive a car. I am not into numerology, have never been and have no intention to study the subject. I simply observed my world around me. Car registration plates did play a role from my childhood. So I observed them throughout my life. Was this the reason for it? 

Let me finish this chapter with another numbers fluke. On leaving the AH sports cars  another crazy, pointless, if you wish, numbers TUM occurred. Had I not looked at my odometer right then, moments after exiting the entrance of Novotel Resort, I may have missed it. I stopped and took a photo. To my surprise it came out good.

Once before I had been bowled over by the numbers on my odometer (177 777) in Ward St. Modbury. At the time I did not photograph it, thinking it would not turn out. The fluke about Zion's church phone number matching the date of Good Friday 06, possibly, made me more aware of the odometer on my Suzuki, when leaving Novotel.

I stopped quickly, before I had reached the bridge at the bottom of the hill. The odometer would only last one kilometer maximum. I pulled over and took this shot:


14/4/2006 - Outside Novotel Resort, Rowland Flat, South Australia.

Did anyone notice how the petrol gauge, right through 150 points to the 0?



Oh, now what?


Chapter 4