My trip to Laverton, Western Australia, hardly started on a bright note. My brother urgently needed a lift home to Perth for a funeral, and my dad (a country policeman) was a further 26 hour drive into the depths of the desert. After deliberating, my family accepted I should go.
Early the next morning, myself and my brother's friend Tyson had gotten ready for the eleven hour journey. "Bring water!" Dad had cautioned. I had rushed to the supermarket in a solemn panic and stocked my car with four 5 litre bottles of water.
"Dad, how do I get to Laverton exactly?"
"Right. Get on the Great Eastern Highway in Perth, and drive for six hours until you reach Kalgoorlie. Then when you get to Kalgoorlie, turn left. Then drive for four hours. Then you'll be in Laverton."
"That's it?"
I was going bush. To the outback - the deadliest and vastest roads of Australia lay ahead of me - and I was naive 19 year old outback-virgin with a 17 year old boy for moral support.
The journey was tedious. My car stereo broke and it took us six hours to figure out how to fix. The landscape of rural WA became blander and redder the further we drove into the country, the roads wilder and empty. Being British, my idea of countryside until then was sweeping lanes in Yorkshire and pretty paddocks in Cornwall.
"You have to beat the dusk!" My dad had warned that morning before we left. Tyson had procrastinated about coming at first, but eventually decided to come, making us a little late on our departure.
On our final leg of the drive, from Leonora to Laverton, Tyson had offered to drive through roo territory. He'd had experience with his family being country bumpkins and my idea of countryside danger was a goat on the road.
The sun was setting quick and we had 125km to go after ten hours of driving. Tyson , had me on "roo watch". I peered into the bushes for a glimpse of any peeking eyes or poking ears and could see a few staring back at me. Tyson had described to me how one handles a roo jumping infront of your car situation: "lock your elbows, slam on the breaks and do not swerve - if you swerve you will roll into a bush and possibly die."
With around 50km to go our fears were confirmed. While we hunted for roos in front of us one jumped from the back of my tiny car and plummetted onto my bonnet. I'd screamed as the bonnet had bounced onto the windscreen and the kangaroo had helted over the car. The car skidded to a halt, steam gushing out of the engine.
We jumped out to inspect the damage and it started to piss it down with rain. In the desert. The radiator and fan were caved in, and we had to hack off my crumpled bonnet with a Stanley knife Tyson had for some (almost prophetic) reason brought along.
The next hour was one of the worst of my life. As my battered car chugged along at barely 40km per hour, with her naked engine exposed in the rain, her engine was severely overheating. We still faced the chance of another attack on my precious Zip. My mobile jumped in and out of coverage to be met with frantic calls from my parents telling me I shouldn't have gone. "Let's talk about this later!" I'd shouted.
I can't describe the happiness I felt when we saw the sign: Laverton - 4km.
"Come on!" I'd cooed to my whimpering car. "Almost there!"
We made it. The police paddywaggon awaited us to drop us off at dad's house as I didn't know my way around the town. My car was then parked besides the town's sole (and therefore, gold digger) mechanic, but I didn't want to think about how we'd get back to Perth, just yet. I wanted a bath. I wanted a hug. I wanted my bed.
Welcome to Laverton.
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