You’re mad and I’m not!
Hmm strange way to start something, but I’ll go with it because as you might remember I was chugga chugging down the road with Matthew towards Broome to get his car back and when it comes to mad that comes pretty darn close to the limit. Seriously who’d volunteer to go to such a big place where there is other people? Maybe I should be getting my head read, not writing all this down. Maybe this is the beginning of the end, the part where people studying me after it’s too late can pin point the exact moment when I snapped.
I’ll be at a rescue somewhere, a simple rescue, the people I’m rescuing will be some nice polite old Ma and Pa Kettle grey nomads just having a bit of bad luck with a dodgy battery, an easy fix any laymen could work out. I’d come along with good intent, then suddenly a woggledangle, a small, red billed, green bellied sparrow like bird native to Halls Creek (trust me look it up), craps on the ground next to where I’m standing and suddenly it all goes to hell in a handbasket. Immediately Dean goes postal and no one in a million kilometres (or the thereabouts) is safe, all because of that one moment I agreed to go to the big smoke with Matthew.
Oh yeah I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking (wo)man up Dean, you’re headed to a coastal resort town where there is only 45,000 people. Most of us city dwellers who think the real country side is made up of huge vertical concrete tombs with windows towering into the sky and small steel coffins with wheels where the aim is to abuse the person next to you for doing everything you don’t do because you know your way is the right way, would see 45,000 people before we eat breakfast. Well that’s fine for you but I wasn’t heading to a town of 45,000, no it was out of holiday season so the big smoke population was probably closer to about 13,000. So now how judgemental do you feel?
You know it’s kind of weird the strange things that being on the road can do to people. I spend a lot of time driving, but much of that time is on roads and tracks where concentration is paramount, and much of it is done from behind the wheel. On the open bitumen and in the passenger seat the mind is much freer and relaxed. That’s not to say one shouldn’t stay alert on the bitumen, seriously people concentration on our roads is as important as breathing, but for me they are two different forms of concentration.
Honestly it really did feel good to let loose a little bit on the drive west. Annoying Matthew with silly little things could only last so long before it became boring to both of us. Day dreaming about my life and offering you lot a little more insight into the often strange mind of Dean the Outback Rescue chick was an obvious progression from annoying Matthew. I hope you enjoyed it!
Fitzroy Crossing is a bit over three hours, maybe a bit closer to four given we weren’t in a hurry, from Halls so when we arrived in Fitzroy it was almost smack bang on 9am. It was a good place to stop and stretch our legs but we also had business in the small town, which strangely enough is nearly as big as Broome. Matthew was wanted by the law and it was in the country’s best interest if I handed him in.
Ok that’s not entirely true, we were both requested to attend the police station given that we were driving past. That’s right word had travelled far and wide about our efforts at Gibb Airport and like rockstars everyone wanted our signatures. Are you buying this? Probably just as well you aren’t.
It is partially true, part of the reason we stopped in Fitzroy Crossing was to give Sam, remember him? He’s Nick’s immediate supervisor and our early morning rescue party from the other night. He wanted our statements regarding what happened at the airport. It was basic police procedure and had we not been headed to Broome Nick would have delivered what was required.
I think I might have mentioned that unless there was some unforeseen stupidity from a lawyer more interested in making a name for himself than actual guilt Matthew and I wouldn’t need to attend court or any sort of hearings. Nick would have to fly to Perth for the case and give evidence of what they did but our statements which would almost read like victim impact statements would be read as a part of the case rather than delivered in person.
So maybe walking in to the station at eight in the morning and expecting to see the boss sitting at his desk warming his hands in front of the big old computer monitor while thinking about what to have for lunch was a bit naive of me. In the country things happen slower and Sam was a late starter, he didn’t do all that until 10am. There was some mention of him having a busy day the day before, something about some drug bust at an airport and that meant he was having a bit of a sleep in.
Honestly I was prepared to cut the guy some slack and let him have a lay in but no sooner had we found out the news that he wasn’t in than someone was ringing him to tell him we were waiting for him. It was a good thing because it meant we could get back on the road sooner but at the same time I really would have been fine just dropping our statements off and letting Sam get to them at his leisure.
Still that was not to be the case and we were destined to wait for the leader of leaders to awaken from his slumber, prepare himself for the day, trudge out to his police issue truck, drive to work and then arrive at work alert and ready to take crime by the balls for the day.
Ten minutes after suggesting Sam didn’t need to be disturbed for us he walked in through the front door of the police station.
Previous Outback Rescue story here.