“The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.”
– Carl Sagan
This week I have been in contact with a wise genius, possessed of mind I can scarcely comprehend. I have reached a point in my life where I will treasure any good advice I receive, and duly impart it to whomever I can. And so I share the following advice with you now, friends. This week’s genius hails from the honourable and stately North East Valley...
“The open road is where my heart lives. For thousands, perhaps millions, of years, the open road has been the threshold of dreams, travelled by the greatest humans ever to have lived (myself included). The open road is a mystical realm of travellers and nomads, governed by its own distinct wisdom and the unwritten rules that remain unseen for far too many of us.
“If you need to take a piss when you are travelling with me, out on the open road, you’re shit out of luck, friendo. Oh what’s that, you gotta piss? Use that Speight’s bottle down there. Oh what’s that, you have lady parts? I think there’s plastic bag around here somewhere, doll face. I am only joking of course, I keep a unisex camping urinal in my utility box, which you are welcome to utilise with me when we are travelling on the open road. Utility is one of the many pillars of being a good traveller on the open road; you need to use your tools, and your smarts, depending on the situation. I also sometimes wear a diaper on long hauls.
“If I am driving and some punk tries to overtake me, I will always speed up no matter what. It is one of the many unspoken rules of the open road. I will pull my car up alongside theirs and eyeball them until one of us is forced to back down. There are no rules out here, baby – just my ‘Honda Civic’ TM and my Iron Will. I will never break my stare. It is just like going to prison for the first time, or looking at a scary dog; if you break eye contact, even for a moment, you’re toast friendo. Hitchhikers are the merchant traders of wisdom on the open road. If you are lucky enough to come across one, invite them into your vehicle immediately. They carry knowledge from across the sea, and new ideas about life in this universe. Be warned though, some are the most deceitful liars you will ever meet. For example, a ‘French tourist’ I picked up turned out to be some hustler looking for a free lift to his shift at the Mosgiel Warehouse TM. His Warehouse TM uniform should have given it away, but I used to be so trusting of a fake European accent and a nice smile. I swear I will never be tricked like that again.
“If you are lucky, the open road will carry you to the Catlands: a Valhalla of the open road, a long way south of Dunedin. Here’s a little tip though: there are not that many cats there. It is called ‘the Catlands’ for a different reason you’re not ready to know yet. I will now share how to access the highest level of Valhalla that is the Catlands. When you are in the Catlands, enter any service station you see. Approach the attendant and maintain silent eye contact for thirty seconds (this is normal) and then place your car key on the counter, pointing north. What they give you in return is your reward for heeding my words, fellow traveller. You are welcome. And may the spirit of the wolf guide you.”