Rigabold the perknicketness decided he couldn’t hang around the town with the rudest people in Australia any longer than was required. Sure the people at the roadhouse were nice enough but there wasn’t enough distance between the nice people and the rude people for his liking. For that reason he decided he’d once again drive into the evening and further on into the night.
He had himself a reasonable feed of Chiko Rolls, a moo juice that wasn’t exactly what he wanted but good nonetheless, and according to his GPS he had about two hours travelling ahead of him before he’d get another chance to purchase some more Chiko Rolls. There really was no point in him hanging around a town that left him feeling less than happy about being there.
Just under an hour after leaving Kimba and the big galah Rigbold was cruising along the highway at just under the marked speed limit. It wasn’t completely dark but his headlights were on and lighting his way. In his headlights a big green sign glowed, it was the kind of sign that indicated he was approaching another town, or the turn off to another town. Having not looked ahead at his maps before leaving Kimba Rigabold had no idea what towns were approaching, only that any town before his next stop of Port Augusta wasn’t significant in size to make Chiko Rolls available to him.
“An Iron what?” Rigbaold said aloud to the empty vehicle as he passed the big sign and read the words on it.
Hearing his voice and responding the only way it knew how the GPS in the dashboard, beeped, lit up and started to showing information related to Rigabold’s question. Before reading the information Rigabold allowed his mind to wander just a little bit. He had a good grasp of all Earth languages including their slang terms and local idioms. He also had a fairly good understanding of the way different words were used and even how some normal everyday words could be re-used in a crass or even rude manner.
“What sort of a man has an Iron Knob?” Rigabold said to himself as he laughed. “Further more what happens when his iron knob starts rusting? Does he polish his knob? It’s no wonder the male appendage is so small if it’s made out of iron!”
If he’d had the GPS’ sarcasm mode turned on he would have received a barrage of comments about him being rude, about him being silly and how renaming the male sexual appendage was such a “earth thing” to do. But alas the GPS remained silent and showed him information about the small town of Iron Knob.
Getting over his little bout of Earthling humour Rigabold read the GPS screen as he passed the turn off to Iron Knob. There wasn’t much to read about Iron Knob, it was a small mining town named after the massive amount of iron ore in the area, over the years it’s small population fluctuated but rarely got over the two hundred mark, even when mining services resumed in 2013.
Even if it was daylight hours the chances of getting Chiko Rolls at Iron Knob were less than 12%, according to the GPS, and therefore Rigabold wouldn’t bother making the detour, the lateness of the day just cemented his reasons for not doing it.
A hour after passing the turn off to Iron Knob Rigabold was parked in the large car park beside the Shell Service centre on the outskirts of the town Port Augusta. The parking area was a wide open space with plenty of room to park road trains, and smaller trucks, two such trucks were parked there, one of which had it’s running lights on and engine idling, the other was completely dark and quiet.
The GPS told him he had a 50% chance of getting Chiko Rolls in the roadhouse of the service centre and that the percentage would get higher with the lower number of cars in the service centre or parked at the roadhouse. As he walked up to the door of the roadhouse he counted two vehicles refilling and three cars parked under the shelter on the northern side of the building. He hoped those lower numbers increased his chances, but if they didn’t he was prepared to stop at several of the other places Port Augusta had to offer.
Walking back to his Dodge with only three Chiko Rolls, and no moo juice Rigabold’s thoughts were interrupted by a man walking along the footpath towards the town centre.
“Hey man, you got some wheels?” the man called out.
“Yes, of course I have.” Rigabold was slightly surprised by the chosen topic of conversation not the conversation with a stranger.
“Then you want to give me a ride into town.”
“I do?” Rigabold questioned, unaware he was having such thoughts.
The man veered his steps across the driveway and towards Rigabold. “Of course you do mate. Why wouldn’t you?”
Rigabold could think of multiple good reason why he wouldn’t want to give the man a ride anywhere, however with memories of the idiots he met not long out of Halls Creek who didn’t just want a ride but wanted to take his ride with them he chose not to share those reasons with the man.
“I’m not headed in that direction.” Rigabold replied trying to remain polite while not revealing the complete truth.
“That’s ok, I’ll go the other way. How far are you going?” The man was getting closer, he obviously thought he was still in with a chance for a ride.
“That’ll do. I’ll go there.” The man replied obviously not concerned by the three thousand kilometre trip in the opposite direction to his original request. Rigabold was in the middle of thinking about how to get rid of the man, be it politely or impolitely, when the man spoke again. “Thanks for the lift man! Enjoyed the ride. Cya again one day!” The man then walked off in the direction of town with his hand in the air waving to Rigabold.