I don’t get people who travel on Easter weekend....it’s like woohoo a whole extra 48 hours off so let’s pack everything we own, 17 kids, the canoe, the bbq, pack enough food to feed the whole of a 3rd world nation for a month, the bikes, the dog, 18 fishing rods and Grandma in the 4 tonne LandCruiser we don’t know how to drive.... then we’ll leave early to beat the traffic, but 10 km's out of town no... every other numpty with a BCF membership got the same idea oh well never mind nothing like 9 hours in a traffic jam with screaming bored kids fighting over the DVD player and mashing half chewed lollies on the carpet while singing “Let it Go!” out of tune for the 19th time...
11.5 hours from home you’ve covered 43.6 kilometres and your cheese is about to slide off your cracker so you pull into a Service Centre packed with 9753 other equally mental fools, park sideways across 6 spots in the truck section because you know the Toyota runs on diesel so it’s a ‘truck ‘ isn’t it??
You all pile out of the big lorry ignoring the cold stares from the guy trying to park his 80 foot bdouble for a regulation break, send the kids to line up at Maccas for 57 minutes then still have no clue what they want by the time you reach the server.... it doesn’t matter what the stinking rugrats order anyway because 11 minutes later the wrappers are floating across the carpark, the soft serve is on the leather seats and the 9 year old has pickles in her hair and is screaming ‘you’re a poo poo head!” at the 7 year old who refuses to sit forwards or put his seat belt on....
25.8 hours after leaving home you reach the campsite a whole 103 km's away only to discover there’s no spots left within 17 kilometres of the beach or a toilet so you set up camp with the brown snakes nowhere near the neighbors who promised to hold a spot for you.....
You spend the next day and a half listening to half drunk Shazza’s yelling “JAYDEN!!! Stop hitting your brother!!” and mumbling to your mates around the campfire about ‘serenity’ and ‘the good life’....
9am Monday you’re thinking prison food can’t be that bad surely??? If I just bury them deep enough nobody will find them?? You say stuff this I’ll leave early and beat the traffic while visions of the 23 hour journey down here flash through your head.
So you pack the whole shebang back into the Pickle mobile along with the wet dog and sunburnt kids whining “weeeere hungreeeeeee!!!” , pull out onto the packed highway, find another Maccas to appease the brats. fill the ‘truck’ at $1.91 a litre and head home with the other 19.3 million nufftys thinking that a bbq at home and a sleep in would have been a good idea!!)