03/08/2026
A Journey Through Time
The morning sun shone over the historic township of Kapunda as Marc, owner and companion driver with Driving Miss Daisy Barossa Valley, prepared for another day of helping people stay connected with the places and memories that mattered most.
His first booking was with Margaret, an elderly client who had a simple request.
"I'd like to visit Kapunda Cemetery," she said with a gentle smile. "My parents are buried there, and it's been far too long since I've visited."
"Of course," Marc replied. "Let's take our time today."
The drive through Kapunda was peaceful. As they passed old stone cottages and heritage buildings, Marc shared stories about the town's rich copper mining history, while Margaret reminisced about growing up in the district.
When they arrived at the cemetery, Marc walked beside her through the quiet pathways lined with ancient gum trees and weathered headstones. There was a calmness about the place, where every monument told the story of a family who had helped build the town.
After Margaret had spent time at her parents' graves, she looked across the cemetery and pointed towards another row of headstones.
"You know," she said, "I believe some of the former residents from the old Coghill Street house are buried over there."
Curious, Marc accompanied her to the section she remembered.
There, among the aged sandstone and marble headstones, were names connected with the history of the old Coghill Street home. Families who had once lived within its thick stone walls had eventually found their final resting place here in Kapunda Cemetery.
Marc stood quietly, imagining the lives they had lived.
He pictured children playing in the garden, miners returning home after long days in the copper mines, families gathering around the fireplace on cold winter evenings, and generations caring for the same house through changing times.
"It makes you realise," Marc said softly, "that these old homes are more than buildings. They're part of the town's story."
Margaret nodded.
"And every generation adds another chapter."
Before leaving, Marc and Margaret placed a small bunch of fresh daisies beside one of the headstones as a gesture of respect to those who had come before them.
As they drove away in the familiar Driving Miss Daisy Barossa Valley vehicle, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the historic cemetery.
Margaret smiled.
"Thank you, Marc. Today wasn't just a drive."
Marc smiled back.
"No," he said. "It was a journey through history, friendship, and memories."
The blue Driving Miss Daisy Barossa Valley car disappeared down the road towards town, carrying with it another story that would never be forgotten.