Originally posted July 30, 2009 from Kununurra, Australia:
Within 10 k of leaving Broome with my new English crew, the difference between driving with Woman and Men was more then apparent.
With the girls, the car was kept reasonably tidy; there was a designated garbage bag for trash. The windows were up, air conditioning flows. Music was playing but at a tolerable level, so reading and light conversation were possible. And the car just seems to glide to its destination at an effortless pace(save the flat).
With the guys, the car is taring down the road fluctuating between 10 and 30k over the speed limit, the tumble bar is frequently heard as the car slips off the side of the road as the driver stuffs his hand into a bag to grab the last of the potato chips. The windows are open, the music is blaring, conversation is impossible. As you reach down under the seat to try and find some more chips, you tare the old snickers wrapper off your leg that you cant remember eating. We stop only to pee or buy food.
When I was with the girls, we woke up every morning had oats for breakfast with some sort of fruit and a cup of tea. For the two of the last three nights for dinner we had a vegetable curry prepared over our cooking stove.
With the guys, breakfast is usual forgone because you slept in and lunch is whatever you can buy at a gas station, a sandwich, a sausage roll, potato chips, or a candy bar. For dinner, you have the choice of sausage tomato sauce and pasta or tuna tomato sauce and pasta. Indigestion and flatulence are inevitable!
. . . . .
After leaving Broome, our first stop was Derby the last town to get supplies to get supplies at before you take on the Gibbs River Road. The Gibbs River Road is one of the roads you can take between Broome and Darwin to get through the Kimberleys. If you were to look at a map of Western Australia and find the Northern Most highway just at the eastern edge of the state, Route 1, the Gibbs River Road is the dashed line that runs parallel just above it. They say it was a road created by truckers and miners to be able to move whatever to wherever quicker. Dont be mistaken. IT IS NOT A ROAD. It is a mechanics wet dream.
That . . . . that thing is just ridiculous. They say you need a 4 wheel drive. We had that! They say you need extra gasoline. We had 20 L on top of our existing 60 L gas tank. They say you need two spare tires. We had one. They say you need all of the usual outback supplies, lots of water, extra engine oil, sun screen . . . we left with that but our faulty roof rack decided to toss most of our supplies into the bush arbitrarily. By the end of the trip we had lost two pairs of shoes, a water bottle, 20 L of water, the engine oil, a sleeping bag mat, and even our other tent. By the end 3 of us were sleeping in our three man tent and the fourth was left to sleep across the seats in the truck.
But even with the supplies we managed to retain we still werent prepared for that damn thing. On the third day, after we were 160 ks from the last road house and just 40 ks of the next camp ground we got a flat. We took all of the crap out of our car to get to the jack, jacked up the car, changed the car (I took the lead due to me recent experience) put all of the crap back in the boot, tied down the old wheel and kept on. Not within 400 m of the first (hand to God) we got a second flat. We have no second spare. We had to flag down a Swiss couple to give one of the English guys a ride to the next campsite to get our spare changed.
The remaining three of us sat on that road for 3 and a half hours, playing soccer or napping until he returned. Five cars passed in those 3 and a half hours.
The six was a bunch of French guys blaring Johnny Cash with Tony, the English guy, with the fixed spare on his lap. We thanked the Frogs for helping us, got the jack, changed the tire and then race towards the campsite before dusk to avoid the soon to be active Kangaroo, Dingo, and roaming cattle. On the way to the campsite we have no issues but begin to hear a sharp metal on metal sound from the front wheel and once in the campsite parking lot get a third flat.
The next morning, we had created a quite ambitious itinerary of seeing some hot springs and more gorges, but it was all destroyed by the mechanics diagnosis that we had a broken wheel barring and a new one would have to flown out from Perth (where I started from) and would take probably 3 or 4 days to get there. On top of that he was only able to fix one of our tires and didnt have a spare our size, so we had no spare. We asked the mechanic whether or not he thought wed been able to get to Kununurra if we just road on it real slow. He said he wouldnt move it. We had some thinking to do.
Now with the girls, when we came to a cross roads and a decision needed to be made, the options were talked about, considered, and a consensus was formed.
With the guys, the options were talked about, considered and then we decided what most men do, when they refuse to except the reality of situation and just give in to the irrational pack mentality:
"Fuck it, lets Go!"
We drove on that piece of crap wheel, some 130 k, to get to Kununurra, at an average speed of 25 miles an hour with our blinkers blazing to get here. The tire began to wobble but we kept going. The front brakes began to give, but we kept going. The metal screeching sound got unbearable, we turned the music up. We stopped twice to discuss whether or not it is possible for a wheel to actually fall off a car, but we kept going. And I have never seen so many crazy looks as we pulled into that garage. Some laughed and others just shook their heads, but Damn it, we made it!
. . . . . .
Right now, we are waiting on those parts from Perth they say two days, and a couple of hours to install, assuming no other damage, but who knows. But I am now back in Limbo, and I have to decide whether or not to keep going with the English blokes or to catch another ride onto Darwin. But as the Aussie's say 'No Worries!'