We could and arguably should have strung the report of our May road trip out for quite a while, with photos of pretty faced wallabies and red dragon flies, campfires and dice games and empty bottles and rock chasms and moss and crystal clear creeks. Of course there are also photos of country towns and historic sheds and vast open spaces on empty roads, and good times had by all. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then however, and besides, during every one of those several thousand kilometres travelled our minds and conversation were somewhat distracted.
For two years we'd been looking for a van with a particular set of features: Short wheel base, automatic, cruise control, four wheel drive with diff lock, reasonable kilometres. How hard could that be?
"These go forever" they'd say, as we peered into an obviously well-used, gloomy dashboard showing more than half a million kilometres on the dashboard, "and well worth the money" at barely less than the new price.
We even thought we'd found one for an hour or two. Quite tidy it was, although it had a mess of modifications to its electrical system and there was something not quite right with its service records.
The dealer was archetypal dodgy, answering questions just a little too quickly, but when he couldn't tell us what the strange ant-like creatures were that seemed to be moving in every crevice, we quietly stopped our conversation without breaking eye contact, and gently backed away.
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