Vale Greg Dick, long-time proprietor of the Aileron Roadhouse, 135 kilometres north of Alice Springs who passed away in Alice Springs on Wednesday 9 September 2026.
I’ve known Greg Dick for longer than some, shorter than others. He was one of those people—perhaps mercifully—you could honestly say you’d never forget. I won’t be alone in saying that Greg Dick was also one of the funniest buggers I’ve ever met.
That aside, the range of responses to meeting Greg Dick at first instance would most likely range from “charmed” to “charmless.” He wouldn’t hesitate to call a spade a fucking shovel.
I sat down for a yarn with Greg at Sporties Restaurant in Alice Springs on 9 September 2010, sixteen years to the day before he passed on.
Make of that what you will.
Greg Dick: I’ve been here since 1964, I started out working as a chauffeur driver for the Northern Territory Administration, then I worked at Egar’s Supermarket and later built the Stuart Bakery in Alice Springs, had a supermarket in Tennant Creek with Luigi (Papa) Ruffino.* Then I bought the Ti Tree Roadhouse. I was there for 19 years and we brought Aileron after they burnt it down in 1981 and we’ve spent about $4 million there developing new roads, things like that. The land is 180 freehold acres.
Greg was one of the few who could see the value in the NT’s draconian mandatory minimum sentence regime for property crimes that was introduced in 1997 and repealed in 2001.
Speaking to Andrew McMillan for a piece published in The Monthly in 2006, Greg bemoaned the scrapping of the NT’s mandatory sentencing regime, under which a Grey Nomad pinching a toilet roll could score a fortnight’s leisure at Her Majesty’s pleasure.
GD: I was as busy as hell on a Monday morning, so I shot down to the toilets and put some extra rolls of paper in. I had five customers in the front part of the shop, and I was serving away and this woman goes past with this roll of toilet paper in her hand. She’s heading out. And I thought, ‘Shit, I didn’t serve her.’ So I said, ‘Excuse me fellas,’ and flew around the side. I yelled out to her, ‘Hey luv, what about my toilet paper? Ya bloody thief!’
She wheels around and throws it at me. So I let off with a mouthful of stuff. ‘Look what you got over there: a bloody 25-foot caravan and a bloody four-wheel-drive towing it, and too frigging miserable to buy a roll of effing toilet paper.’ I gave ’em a good mouthful on it and I said, ‘Look, you want something free? We got mandatory sentencing here. I’ll get your numbers now and I’ll ring ahead and you’ll get bloody two weeks’ free holiday.’
A few years later Greg was still cranky about what he called “shit-stoppers”.
GD: You get all your shit-stoppers, we call ’em. They camp down the road and first thing they want is your toilets, then they don’t buy nothing. I always call them back and say, “Hey, come here. You think I’m just a shit-house?”
They can’t believe it, then I say, “Next time why don’t you go in the bush and shit and have a real Territory experience, find a little bush and hang onto it and lean back, you can watch the ants working and flies buzzing.” They look at me and go, “Are you for real?” and I say, “Yeah, now fuck off and shit in the bush!”
I can’t recall if I’ve had this specific response to a hung-over breakfast order after a long night at the Aileron Roadhouse but I have had plenty of similar queries from Greg over the years.
Greg had a few other choice examples of err, interesting items left behind in motel rooms by guests.
GD: I hate doing rooms, I’ve done enough of ’em in my days … and there’s this big black thing under the bed. I says to myself, “I didn’t put a snake in here last night.” I used to put a python in the roof sometimes if there were mice or rats about …
I looked at this thing and it was a fucking big dildo, a double-ender. I shot outside and had a look at the booking card. Hmm, two women! Poor things. So, I scooped it into a bag and I wrote them a lovely handwritten letter, hoping it wouldn’t upset their holiday, and I got some some postcards, a couple of key rings and sent it to them Jet Express. And the cunts haven’t even written back and thanked me!
Another one was there were three used condoms left under the bed. There’s bins in the rooms to put that shit in. So I put them in a money bag, wrote him a good letter explaining about how “We’re not a sperm bank” and “I hope they’re still fresh when you receive them,” and he hasn’t even wrote back and thanked me!
Greg reckons he’s seen the best and worst of human nature during his time in hospitality but he says he loved the work and the people he’s met over the years. Just don’t mention taps, hoses and tap fittings …
But occasionally people would direct a not-too-subtle nod towards local Aboriginal people.
GD: We get people come and say, “Oh, is it safe to stay?” And of course I knew what they were asking about, but I’d say, “Well, look, really I don’t know, because there’s five other caravans in the park already and I don’t know them. One could be a serial killer, one could be a rapist.” But they’re not game to say to you, “Oh, but the Aborigines outside… .” And I’d point out, you don’t know who’s staying next to you! And it reverses everything … just by a bit of friendly talking.
But Greg could never resist pulling the odd leg or ten.
GD: I’d tell ’em, “I’d park over in the far corner if I were you, because one of the guys in that caravan looked a bit shady to me, his eyes weren’t right when he looked at me.” (laughs) You’d get that at least four or five times a week. “Is it safe to stay?” And I’d say, “Well I’ve been here 36 years.”
Another one was, “Is the water safe to drink?” and I’d say, “Yeah, but it does affect you, you’ll finish up looking like me!”
Greg Dick’s funeral will be held at the Alice Springs Catholic Church on 30 September 2026, starting at 11am to be followed with a wake at the Gillen Club.
* Ruffino Park in Alice Springs is dedicated to the memory of Luigi (Papa) Ruffino. The NT Place Names Register has the following information. Luigi (Papa) Ruffino (1926-1999) arrived in Australia (Perth) from Randazzo, Sicily, aged 25 years … Luigi pioneered the restaurant and catering business, changing the face of Alice Springs in the process. He ran various restaurants, a bistro and deli as well as becoming the proprietor of a bakery and various supermarkets in both Alice Springs and Tennant Creek … He brought his own culture to Alice Springs, along with things Alice Springs had never seen before … Papa Luigi, as he was affectionately known as, was a respected member of the community and his contribution to central Australia was recognised in 1979 when he was awarded the MBE. Luigi died in 1999 survived by his widow Vera, their 2 daughters, Sarina and Angela and 4 grandchildren.
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