Fear and Loathing In The Outback

Yo Yo Yo, I hope this e-mail finds you all well, just thought I'd let you know what I'm up to at the minute. As I told you last time, I'm no longer employed and so staying in Brisbane seemed like a daft idea 'cos I was just spending money I didn't have. My next step may come as a little bit of a surprise to you though, George and I are currently in the process of driving through the Outback in a 20 year old station wagon.

This rather madcap idea came upon us around 2 weeks ago now when we were sat on the hostel roof drinking goon. The conversation was going down many a dead end when we finally stumbled upon the fact that I should start thinking about leaving the Palace Hostel as I had been there 72 nights and counting. The logical thing for me to do would have been to fly back up to Cairns and resume my Greyhound Bus ticket round the rest of the country which I had paid over $1000 for. For one reason or another however, and my suspicions are that 4 liters of Coolabah had something to do with it, I decided that flying to Cairns was a stupid idea and a much more sensible one was for George and I to pool our resources and buy a car older than the person that would be driving it and head off into one of the most arid, inhospitable areas the world has to offer. And that we did.

We are now the proud owners of a 1986 Toyota Corona (yep, you read that right that's Corona not Corolla, they even name their cars after beer out here) which cost us the sum total of $1500 or 614 quid in real money. We need this thing to get us all the way back to Sydney, something I fear may not happen, but with fingers crossed and the wind blowing in the right direction we might just about make it.

Now as I'm sure you're all aware the naming of a motor vehicle is very important indeed and we undertook this task extremely seriously. For some reason, I think it could well have been the goon again, we decided we were gonna be Pirates of the Highway and so the car was named The Jolly Rodger for a while. We actually ran with this idea for a few days, even assigning ourselves new names: Captain Pugwash(Me) and Captain Jack Sparrow(George) but alas it was not to be. We abandoned the name for a couple of reasons, namely, a) it was crap and b) we couldn't recruit ourselves a wench in time for setting sail. It was therefore back to the drawing board and after much deliberating we've settled on Billy Woo in honour of the Houdini alike Oriental landlord, a fitting tribute to a great man. So there you have it, the third car I've owned despite never having had a driving license is Billy Woo the orange station wagon.

Before the road trip had even begun however, we managed to run the battery flat, which resulted in me pushing it up and down Roma Street car park for a couple of hours to get it jump started. The signs were ominous to say the least and our impending doom was becoming ever more apparent.

Things were not to get much better, when, on the day we did hit the road, my fantastic navigating skills managed to get us lost half an hour outside Brisbane. Once we managed to get back on the road, my task for the next few days was over, George however had 5 days of solid driving ahead of him. That first evening we wound up in a place called Mitchell, not through any pre-planned route, but more to do with the fact that the gear box didn't, in the strictest sense of the word, work.

Mitchell was an experience. What was meant to be a couple of quiet beers before retiring for an early night to attack the long drive the next day turned into something else and more besides. We were treated like minor celebrities for the evening due to our exotic nature i.e. we weren't related to everyone else in the town. We ended up playing pool with a Sheep shearer called Brogan and his mate Whiskers (he had a beard) before being taken off to another pub to meet up with his Kangaroo hunting friends. One of whom, and this is no word of a lie, was married to his own cousin. Mitchell will forever have a place in my heart.

The next day after getting the car checked out, it turned it had no oil in the gear box something which apparently does not make for the smooth running of a car, we ploughed on towards Longreach. This though almost ended in another run in with the Australian Police. To break up the driving for George, I decided that I would take the wheel for an hour and as luck would have it just as we'd got moving again 2 of Queensland's finest Bobbies in Blue came careering past. Bloody typical! I pulled over 20 minutes later.

It was after arriving in Longreach and having an extensive chat with my Dad about the perils of Outback driving, George and I decided we were not best prepared for our trip. Our shopping list before we set off consisted of, amongst other things, comedy hats, aviator sunglasses, furry dice and an inflatable Kangaroo. In my eyes these were all essential items for an outback road trip. Apparently though, RAC cover, a mobile phone that worked and letting the Police know your intended destination were also supposed to be on the list. A point which, to my astonishment, turned out to be true when the car broke down about an hour outside Mount Isa. Something called the timing belt had broken, I don't know what a timing belt is but it turns out that you need an unbroken one to make the car move. It is also something that costs $500. Oh, and the ever such kind mechanic mentioned in passing that our exhaust has got a leak and the gearbox still doesn't work properly. Please spare a thought for us in your prayers.

Following on from Isa we stopped in a place called Camooweal and it was here we stayed in an old lady's spare bedroom before heading on to Alice Springs, a fair old trek of 1000km. We decided, after about 800km in 1 day that it was perhaps not a good idea to keep going. Especially as the Kangaroos come out at night and we didn't want to contribute to the Roadkillometer(a basic concept that involves counting the amount of animals that have been knocked down), and so we stopped in a place called Ti-Tree. It was only after we had paid to stay here that I found out that an English backpacker was murdered there about 4 years ago. And we were gonna be sleeping in our car, it was in astonishment that I woke up the next day to find myself alive - Happy Days!!! It did however, lead us to write a song called Dead Before Midnight, an ode to our impending doom.

Anyway that was yesterday and today is today and I'm now sat in an Internet cafe in Alice Springs rewriting this e-mail after I inadvertently deleted it once. I'll let you know if we break down again or indeed if we ever make it back to Sydney, but until then it's over and out,

Rich/Titch/Fred/Ricardo/Captain Pugwash (I really have picked up a fair few names in my life haven't I?!)