Daily Prompt, driving, humor, serial fiction, Stories, truck, writing

Desert Rescue: And The Winner Is?

Remember I had myself a bet with Mr Policeman? We were out at Murphey’s Track and I bet him that I would beat him back to town with the loser buying dinner. Remember that? Well I won and Nick owed me dinner.

Let’s conveniently forget that I might have mentioned that I would have claimed there was no bet had Nick won. Let’s also forget that neither Nick or I actually raced. Let’s forget all that because Nick owed me dinner and was trying to get out of the bet.

“I beat you home. I win. You lost the bet. Your shout for dinner.” I said into the microphone of the CB radio as I made my way towards the service station.

“What bet?” Nick said stealing the line I would have used in his position.

“The bet you agreed to when we left Ni…I mean Murhpey’s.” I said with a grin he obviously could see but I knew he’d hear.

“I didn’t agree to any bet.” Nick said as I looked in my rear vision mirror and could see him doing a U-turn and pulling up out the front of the police station.

Pulling up next to the diesel pump I said into the microphone. “You didn’t need to agree to the bet, your facial expression did it for you.”

Nick laughed then said, “Even if there was a bet we came a draw.”

“The Beast was ahead of the Cop Truck! I won, don’t make me go for the photo finish!”

“Oh please don’t subject me to your Tinder profile again!” Nick responded borrowing a line from something I said to him as we sat in my house about to look at the video of me doing the Elvire River rescue.

“Like you don’t already spend all day ogling those pictures of me!”

The silence on the radio only lasted a few seconds but when it was broken it was broken by laughter that didn’t belong to either of us.

“So is that going to be two special parmas or are two just going to roast each other?”

The voice on the radio belonged to Barry, I’ve no idea how long he’d been listening in, the radio in the pub is always on but it’s not in the main bar, but he’d obviously been listening long enough to know we’d been discussing dinner.

“Yeah Barry,” I replied, “make it two parama’s and Nick’s bringing his cheque book!”

“I don’t accept cheques from untrustworthy people!” Barry responded.

“Lucky Miss Money Bags can afford cash then isn’t it!” Nick replied.

“Sorry I can’t hear you two any more, I’m getting diesel” I said, before adding. “See you both in a few minutes!”

Even with the high flow bowser at the service station it still took me a little while to fuel the Beast with diesel. For those not sure, in this country we have two types of bowsers, normal flow is about fifty litres a minute, you imperial suckers can convert that to buckets or drink bottles or whatever you use, and the high flow bowsers are eighty litres per minute. Although some diesel passenger cars can use the higher flow bowsers they were originally installed for trucks, when you need to fill more than five hundred litres it makes sense to get it in there quick. The tanks on the Beast could easily handle the high flow bowser nozzles and I always used it.

The Beast’s tanks don’t compare to a road train, I can get a hundred and eighty litres in there so a quick maths calculation will tell you that filling up with the faster pump makes sense. Although pumping the diesel only took a few minutes to actually fill the tanks it also took a few minutes to pay. Our EFT system is similar to that so many people around the world rely on for every transaction but because of the telephone and internet lines it can occasionally take a bit of time to process the payments.

On top of the time it took to pay for the diesel I also had to spend a few minutes talking to Stephen. Like many of the businesses in town Stephen had CB radio that was turned on whenever the service station was open. He often took service calls for mechanical repairs over the CB as tourists were coming into town. But of course having that radio on also meant he was listening to the banter between Nick and myself.

Although everyone in town is mates and we all natter to each other I guess you could say Nick and my relationship is a bit different to most. I don’t think anyone is jealous that I can yabba on with a police officer like I do and I don’t think anyone else wants me to yabba on with them like I do with Nick. However that didn’t mean our conversations, when heard, didn’t get talked about and after fuelling up the Beast Stephen was just commenting and laughing about the conversation Nick and I had had on the radio on the way in.

So why was the refuelling and conversation important enough to mention right now? Because it helps explain what happened several minutes later.

Back in the Beast I pulled away from the pumps, turned to the right and exited the service station driveway. I had to wait a fifteen seconds for Ken, the motel owner, to drive past, give way to the right in this country! I then headed back towards the police station and parked myself out the front beside Nick’s police four wheel drive. Climbing down from the Beast’s cabin I decided to duck into the police station too see if Nick was ready to buy me dinner. It was still a joke but one I thought I’d keep playing.

Walking around the passenger side of the Beast I could see the sign on the door that Nick put up to tell people the station was unattended and I knew he’d forgone the paperwork of our wild goose chase and gone straight to the pub for dinner. I turned tale and headed for the pub.

I stepped up to the pub door and pushed it open and was greeted by two things. Cool refreshing air conditioned air coming from the a/c unit inside and Nick sitting at the bar already changed out of his uniform and into his civis.

“Looks like it’s your shout Deano.”

“What do you mean my shout?” I asked, as I walked up to the bar.

“I beat you here.”

“No you didn’t, I was clearly first, the whole town knows about!” I sat down on the bar stool next to Nick.

“Ahh yes but while you were fuelling your truck I made a counter bet that I’d beat you to the pub, you might not have been listening, but low an behold I won, so it’s your shout!”

Previous Desert Rescue story here.

24 Comments

  1. This was a delightful chapter. Go Deano. : )

    • Thanks 🙂 Like most this is a bit of a soap opera/serial and it’s fun making her do new things and run around the bush but there really is no end goal for her.

      • I don’t mind; I’m enjoying her story.

        • I don’t tend to write ends. My idea for the blog is just about writing stuff I’m not trying to convince anyone that because I have a blog I can write a novel. I don’t even send my blog to publishers the idea has always been about writing and to me it’s easier to come up with a new idea for Danny or a new idea for Dean whether it runs a few chapters or just one than it is to write new characters and spend a heap of time building new characters for daily stories.

          • That’s smart, actually. Cool.

            • Everything does have to come to an end eventually I suppose. Danny and Tracey can’t go on forever fighting, then kissing and making up, then fighting, it would get too much the same. There is an end in mind for the pirate but it’s not a The End like many would expect and it’s a long way off. The truck story obviously ends when they arrive but I have no idea when that is. The parcel still has potential and like I told you when I first started it the idea has always been just one episode after the other, it doesn’t have to make sense or have continuity. And Dean I just think of something new to write whenever the need happens. I wrote an episode of it two days ago that started out with one line and the whole chapter takes place in about 30 mins of silliness.

              I have goals in my novel writing but not really in blogs, they are more like the Bold and the Beautiful, the same story rehashed and padded out then presented with different actors. Come back in 30 years I might have finished a story 🙂

              • I can’t wait 30 years, do you know how old I am? Okay ,,,, maybe, I’m in good health and my grandma is 98.
                A day, a story at a time. : )

                • Are you writing this on a stone with a chisel?

                  Wow if my grand parents were still alive they’d be about the same age. Maybe I need to get the stone and chisel out as well!

                  I have to spread them out to a day at time I can’t risk running out of ideas 🙂

                  • Yes, honestly we’re close in age, so we’ll sit together. : ). And I’ll dance with you and not laugh.
                    Besides, your creative mind will never run out of ideas. Ever. : )

                    • I’ll sit here and poke you until you giggle like a school girl which will remind you how young you really are!

                      Wait till you see me dance before such a bold statement 🙂

                      You might be surprised how often I sit and stare at a blank page waiting for ideas. The pirate is about the only one that has a map, pun intended 🙂 , but he requires thought at time, the rest just happen.

                    • Giggle … that would be sweet!
                      Don’t forget writing is supposed to be fun! Although your hilarious banter writing is a beautiful work of art. Outstanding. So much fun to read. You have that funny stuffed inside your sweet, masculine heart; it’s extraordinary. ❤️

                    • *poke*
                      Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it is a case of just getting something down so I can end that part and move on to something more fun.

                      I have to write that funny stuff down, too many people these days get offended if you voice such silliness. 🙂

                    • Too bad for them, I love it! : )

                    • It is easier to deliver in writing than it is in real life. If people get upset in real life they often get narky and wont talk to you, if they get offended by words then they don’t often admit it because people might laugh at them for being offended at something so trivial 🙂

                      I could write to offend people but you are the only one that reads my waffle so I can’t go around offending you 🙂

                    • Well then, I feel very special. Maybe everyone needs to just lighten up a bit. I laugh at myself for stupid stuff I do all the time. What’s the big deal?

                    • I do too much stupid stuff to laugh at 🙂

                      I have been told from time to time my sarcasm doesn’t sound like sarcasm, I don’t know if that’s a fault of mine for the delivery or a fault of those offended. But I also don’t lose sleep over it.

                    • Good for you. Just be you. I like you. Hugz! : )

                    • Hugz 🙂

                      You should move down here I need someone as nice as you around 🙂

                    • Aww… as soon as I can get that Aussie to get me that portal device, I’ll come visit! : ).
                      I’m going to post my fiction piece, then dreamland for me. Good night.

                    • They invented these things called planes, they work in a similar way, just a bit slower 🙂

                      Our daylight savings makes it seem like you are staying up later than usual, it’s like you are being a naughty girl 🙂

                      I shall peruse and enjoy I am sure. Have a good ni ni 🙂

                    • I don’t like planes, and yes it’s late. Don’t even start about naughty, considering how late you stay up every night, Mr. Pot.
                      It’s just okay. Not great, but … just don’t yell at me!

                    • I’m in bed by midnight or just after most night 😛 Prompt will be coming in at midnight with the next US daylight savings change so I might be a bit later but that’s it.

                      You don’t like planes but you’re willing to trust some weird magical portal that doesn’t exist? I think you are a little strange 🙂

                      I’m not going to yell that’s for sure, but you might have to wait until wakey wakey for my comment because I need to sit on that story for a bit, it was not what I expected and I’m a bit speechless 🙂

                    • You speechless? That bad, huh? Oh well! Que Sera, sera. Ni, ni, tights man.

                    • Not at all! Speechless was not an indication of how bad it was.

                      One of my favorite singers has been doing Que sera sera on stage for the last few years. All she’s been doing for about 5 years is tributes to Doris and all her music.

                      Ni ni, strange portal girl 🙂

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