Page 6 - Chapter 4 - Detour
I walk back to my bench, tickled with the generosity that had inspired the Irishmen to give me $20 before heading home. I decide to save the note for a time when I really need it and mentally prepare myself to pitch my tent for the night in a patch of grass across the street from the servo, and see how much "rest" I could get between outbursts of shivering. The tent, mind you, was purchased for $15 at a discount outdoor store in New Zealand and kindly donated to me halfway through my hitchhiking quest from Auckland to Wellington by a German backpacker who had finished his Kiwi adventure and wanted the modest shelter to keep adventuring.
I decide it's worth it to ask just a few more people for a ride before resorting to my small, green, portable, budget shelter. I ask a car full of good-looking German girls, "Any chance you're going west?..." Nope. I ask a busy looking man with a large, black SUV, "Any chance you're going west?..." already knowing the answer. "Sure am. I'm going to Bourke." Overjoyed, I ask, "Would you happen to have a spare seat?"
"As long as you don't mind that I'll be on the phone, I've just come from a meeting in Dubbo and have a lot of business calls to catch up on."