West Coast Mission: Day 18

It was my fault, I pulled out when I shouldn't have, I didn't see the girl's car because I couldn't see out of my back window on account of all the swags and bags and general crap and Craig's head was blocking my side window. But still, it was my fault and she went into the side of me. Fortunately the Falcon is the closest thing you can get to a tank without it actually being a tank so despite the almighty crashing noise that occurred there's practically no damage to my car and no one was hurt at all. Shaken, but not hurt.

Her car however got slightly twisted, I'm insured though so it only cost my excess, $400, and in the words of the girl from AAMI, "It's out of your hands, we'll deal with everything from here on in."

Fuck I love AAMI.

We were going to get to Broome in two parts staying at a free camp tonight. We drove until it was dark, marvelling at the pretty glow of the bush fire up ahead. It was a big fire. Biiiiig fire. We got closer and closer until we got to Pardoo Roadhouse, the fire was in a paddock just over the road. We pulled into to servo and I jumped out for a chat with a guy who was sat on the step of the shop smoking a cigarette.

Blurry Bush Fire Pic

Me: Hiya mate, whats the go with that big fire over there?
Bloke: (shrugs) Guess someones having a big BBQ.
Me: Riiiight. Should we go and join 'em?
Bloke: I reckon. Could probably fit a fair few snags on there.

He took one last drag on his fag and idly flicked the butt towards the bowser.

Bloke: As long as it doesn't come over here it should be right.

I retreated to the safety of the shop where there were toilets and pies and maybe people who shared my concern over naked flames near petrol pumps.

I asked the lass behind the counter if she thought the fire would spread.

Lass: (shrugs) Well its been there two days.
Me: K. Soooo you reckon its safe to camp round here tonight?
Lass: Meh... Should be.

Despite her words of comfort we decided to keep on driving a further 80 or so kms to 80 Mile Beach and a free camp near there where we were attacked by moths intent on drinking all our goon.

Hey man, fuck with me if you gotta but leave my goon out of it yeah?

written by  Koala Bear on May 19, 2007 from Eighty Mile Beach, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
tagged RoadTrip and WestCoast
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