Slit made her way through the foyer ready to hit the pavement around eight. She was starting to worry about her internal clock, wondering whether it may be catching something really serious, like Bang germs. She jogged along the riverfront and out around the golf course before having another chat with the talkative casino doorman. He gave her the rundown of what to expect while riding the Plenty Highway. It didn’t sound like fun at all, more like hell. He explained how the locals claim the name ‘Plenty’, is an abbreviation for ‘Plenty of Dust’. He described how the bull dust was so fine it was like wading through red talcum pander, at times as much as a foot deep. The usual warning about the road-trains was included, with a difference. On the Plenty they have as many as five trailers, and religiously drive, quite literally in the middle of the road. When they approach, everyone gets right off the road to let them through, if they are forced onto their side, the natural camber takes over causing the trailers to start wobbling about like a supermarket trolley, resulting in you having to get off the road anyway when the wheels start coming out of the dust ball to get you, and remember, five trailers equals one hundred and two wheels all with your name on them. He also added if you start to catch the dust from a road-train up ahead, just stop and have a nap, you cannot pass them in the dust it’s impossible, and if you try to follow them for more than a few minutes, you will breakdown with all your air filters and such clogged with dust. He also explained that the country was quite interesting, and all the dust had some good side effects, if you rub your finger over your teeth it cleans them better than toothpaste. He recommended we be sure to stop at the Boulia roadhouse and have a hamburger, they make the best in the outback. People out here drive the eight hundred kilometres through the dust, just to have one and turn around to come back. He added, “They also put on a good mixed grill.” 
 
Sixteen hundred kilometres for a hamburger! Slit went up to the room quite sure the heat impacted everyone, around here.
 
When it came time for the girls to checkout the desk clerk gave each a pure gold horseshoe key ring, complements of Lasseters, each was engraved with the words ‘Thankyou for showing me a good time, love Alice’. The manager came down to re-assure them they were always welcome, adding, “To play for the house. Put next year’s Regatta in your dairy, we will be having a new contest that may interest you, arm wrestling, win the title of Lasseter’s Gorilla, for the year.”
 
Slit gave the manager her mail address slit@rebels.com inviting him to contact her if there was anything they might do for him. The manager escorted them to the door sending a rather large man with elastic tape for a broken nose, plastered between two painful looking black eyes, to fetch their motorcycle, he handed the keys directly to Slit, and with a genuine smile, saying, “Next year Warrior. You and I, arm wrestling; you won’t stand a chance. I start training in earnest next week as soon as I get this bloody plaster off my head. I ran into a wall.”
 
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It had gone ten thirty before the girls arrived at the camp sight. The guys were up and dressed but had yet to pack anything, they were sitting in the sun, playing with some rather large brown ants. It must have been some guy ritual as all were quite consumed by it. Small sticks and other objects were being strategically placed across a busy ‘highway’ leading from the nest. As ants rallied to address the problem the leaders were being carefully identified and crushed to death leaving the other ants in chaos and the guys back slapping with pure joy. No one noticed the girls arrive it took Mrs ferret to announce their presence and quickly motivate them into action. Slit forced the guys to pick which machines they wanted to ride, explaining how she would be taking over Matches truck on behalf of the wench’s. Matches knew why, he made some cracks about intelligence gathering, and the female condition when it came to getting dirty. Eventually the fridge won, the guys decided to all travel together on the three seater trike, so they would be able to rotate the riding duties taking turns drinking cold beer up the back. They loaded the two other bikes onto the truck and set off.
 
Slit was somewhat put out when they stopped at the road house on the edge of Alice Springs, to fill up for the trip and she found the truck consumed, five hundred dollars worth of diesel in its tanks, a great source of amusement for the guys who added to the costs by filling four, fifty litre drums with spare fuel for the bike and placed it on the truck, along with twenty slabs of beer and some other provisions to help stay alive. Matches explained how there was nothing out on the Plenty, except dust, more dust and some rocks covered in dust.
 
The day went well, being in air-conditioned comfort with all mod cons was a wise move. At first Megan sat up on the Aerocab sofa with Mrs Ferret in the passenger seat, but after a few hours on the road Mrs Ferret also slumped on the Sofa watching movies in the back, leaving Slit to play out her Trucking fantasy alone.
 
Each time the guys stopped to stretch, relieve themselves and/or refill the fridge, the girls found conversation for at least half an hour laughing about how much dirtier they were looking, the dust had no effect on the guys, they were basking in newly found unsupervised freedom. The guys always went first they needed the open road in front of them, all had Mad Max painted in their physic. Even the dust from the trike was enough to have Slit stay back several kilometres so she could see in comfort.
 
Meeting road-trans was rather fun, they could be seen for miles as a dust storm approaching. Pulling off the road for them was quite an art in itself. The first few times Slit pulled over and waited almost fifteen minutes for the truck to approach them. Eventually they learned to continue on until the last minute before pull over in a mad panic to let the monster past undisturbed.
 
They camped the night in a dry creek bed beside a water hole. It was a pleasant spot, totally soundless with a star filled sky defying belief. They were all woken at first light by a chorus of numerus noisy parrots taking on water for a day in the dessert. With nothing better to do out there they decided to set off straight away, trying to knock over the remaining five hundred kilometres of dust in one day. The girls attacked the junk food store to survive while the guys had the time of their lives, eating baked beans and such out of tins, washing each spoonful down with beer, on the move.
 
Nightfall beat them, it was after dark when they pulled into Boulia roadhouse, Slit offered to buy everyone the house special, a kitchen sink hamburger. As hamburgers go it wasn’t bad, more like a meal with buns, but then after a day and a half eating dust anything would taste good.
 
They camped the night on the bank of the Bourke River at Boulia. They were again woken at first light by the birds. The guys won, so everyone went to the roadhouse for breakfast. The guys had a mixed grill, with Mrs ferret and Megan having Sausages, eggs and tomato, Slit wouldn’t budge she had a coffee and plain toast and took it outside to eat where she didn’t need to witness the carnivores at work.
 
It took all morning to reach Winton the road was a marked improvement being bitumen, but only a single lane, so to pass an approaching vehicle it was still necessary to go off the road in the dirt although for everything but a road train one set of wheels remained on the centre strip in a negotiated display of mutual co-operation and trust. Everyone seemed to accept this rather dangerous practice as normal, besides it allowed the razing of a finger to the on-comer, with genuine affection. The country was taking on liveability proportions with grass covering most of the land, although it was mostly treeless and flat enough to see the earth curvature on the horizon.
 
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At Winton they turned onto the Matilda Highway two lanes of bitumen for the duration, the trip took on increasingly monotonous proportions as they commenced to inch towards ‘civilised’ civilisation, more houses, and more cars, less open space. People consumed by political correctness, consumerism rampantly replacing personal identity with an internationalised cloning. Slit was first to bask in the joy of mixed grills becoming extinct, replaced by slices of quiche and croton laced soup, or golden arches across the road for those who carry ankle biters.
 
Matches and Bang spent the afternoon on the two wheel bikes, both getting booked for speeding. Queensland being civilised, has regulations to keep free spirit from surfacing. The Ferrets took control of the two-seater trike with the three-seater relegated to the truck behind Slit who was rather enjoying sitting up so high; she had started thinking, “blue singlets next trip.”
 
While alone in the truck with Megan, Slit opened a discussion about Megan’s brother. Megan didn’t budge; jail was where he deserved to be and if they execute him, she couldn’t care a less. Megan was even sure her mother shared her view as she too had written him off many years ago, or more precisely, he had discarded them.
 
Slit used this mood to explain what the Gypsy Wanderers were about, how they encountered her brother and much of the detail of him finding himself in the Thai prison system, including her own involvement. Slit explained about the Mullets, Megumi and Bang’s role in the proceedings. Megan didn’t need to have everything spelt out. Witnessing the result of Ferret in Bali and seeing Slit’s performance with the bouncer had explained the situation better then words. Megan moved the conversation ahead of Slit explaining that she was in no doubt what she was becoming involved in, adding how all was sweet. As far as she was concerned she had finally found family, bothers and sisters, something new for her. Besides, drug trafficker was the only entry on her resume, now days.
 
Slit explained the process of becoming a wench. New wenches are selected by a vote of the sister wenches, if they agree you are in; the guys have nothing to do with it. If a guy picks a wench that just means you are off limits to the other guys, it’s their code, you don’t mess with a mate’s beer, bike or wench. Mrs ferret is going to speak for you so you’re as good as in.
 
Slit asked Megan if she would go to Texas when they were home, and persuade her mother to come live in the new place we will be setting you up with. Tell your mother she can work with you, helping manage the ‘wench mobile’, you’re going to need help as the boat will be too much for you on your own.
 
Show your mom a good time, we have decided to set you guys up with some investments for your future, and you should know it was once your brother’s money. We figure he owes you at least four years money and that goes for your mum too. Who knows we might make a wench out of her too.
 
Megan made a request to have some time alone with Bang before they finish the trip. Which Slit agreed to arrange adding, “You know he is not going to suddenly discover you standing in white lace, life is not a Daniel Steel movie. Guys don’t think like humans they are a different species, they are wired from birth like robotic vacuum cleaners. They do the job but only in straight lines, needing to bump into something to change direction. They perform better when someone uses the remote control to steer them. I’ll have Bang drive the truck, ask him to show you where the engine is and how to drive, the guy will have an orgasm, thinking about the two of you under the bonnet together. The rest will be up to you, if you’re up for the task he will be eating quiche and using a napkin in no time.
 
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The next time everyone stopped together, Slit announced it was time for her to go play in the traffic. She challenged Bang’s to an arm wrestle for the right to swap seats. Bang deferred not wishing to risk loosing in front of everyone, leaving Slit free to set off getting insects in her teeth while Bang climbed up into the truck to a warm environment hosted by Megan. Within an hour Megan and Bang were stopped at Tambo to look over a teddy bear factory they saw advertised on the roadside. They came out with Bang carrying the two Bears he purchased, one ‘Basal the Stockman’ for Megan and another called ‘Toby the Ringer’ as company for Basal. They also purchased another two, one for Bang’s mother in New Mexico and the other for Megan’s Mother in Texas and arranged delivery by courier.
 
Basal and Toby settled in on the Aerocab Sofa like seasoned traveller’s as the four of them set off along the road, like a family.
 
With evening rapidly approaching Bang and Megan arrived in Roma as planned yet the others were nowhere to be found, so they slept the night in the truck, after having a rather nice meal at a local restaurant, they found while walking.
 
Next morning the others were still not about, so Bang and Megan setoff heading south west until they skirted around the southern suburbs of Brisbane. Stopping long enough to discover the cost of filling the ‘monster’ with fuel, they turned south past the gold coast into New South Wales on the Pacific Highway, eventually finding Nambucca Heads, where they were supposed to meet with the others for the night. Again not a soul, so they settled in, cleaned up and found a restaurant before taking a lovely evening stroll together and returning to the truck for the night.
 
At dawn they were shaken out of their slumber by the unmistakable sound of Matches banging on the side of the truck crying, “Jesus get up! It time, bring your paint brush.”
 
Popping their heads out they found the ferrets, Slit and Matches all dressed ready to go. Piling onto the bikes they set off for the vee where Matches took everyone to the Break-wall to paint names on the rocks. Thousand of people had done so before them, it seemed to be a right of passage. Many people had obviously returned to signature their artwork again with a further visit in later years. Matches found a prominent rock, painted by someone who wanted to convert everyone Christianity and commenced to paint over it with, ‘The Gipsy Wanderers; the Bang’s, the Ferrets, Matches and Slit were here, 2005’ and made everyone paint their hand and leave a print. He stepped back to admire his work and smiled the smile of a happy child. They had breakfast together before setting off south yet again.
 
It was early afternoon when Matches guided everyone to the Botany depot to drop off the truck and bikes before bludging a lift to the Airport Hilton to check in for the night. The Bang’s were now quite an item, spending lots of time walking together, they could even be found holding hands. Matches told Ferret the guy was loosing it. Ferret agreed, but wasn’t game to say a thing he was looking forward to having a nice bath and clean sheets tonight and didn’t want to risk being put outside the door on a mat, like an animal.
 
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Next morning they all slept in, before setting off for the airport, with everyone grinning and smelling like roses. They checked in for their trip to Disneyland. Before passing through customs, Slit found a post office to mail her necklace sized metal jewellery case home, then sent a text message on her phone saying, “Arriving tomorrow morning; three riders, two passengers. All’s Cool!”
 
The flight didn’t take too long. The Bangs and Ferrets sat quietly exchanging small talk, poor Matches got rather restless. Slit helped as much as she could by keeping him drinking. She was no real help when he started ‘crying’ in his beer, revealing inner secrets and fears. It was like listening to an alien, hearing him go on about fallen comrades, and selling out to the devil. She nodded occasionally saying little, knowing she would say the wrong thing and have him slide further.
 
They landed in Los Angles and passed through customs, all receiving the ‘welcome to America, enjoy your stay’ without a second glance. As they emerged from the terminal all were confronted by several cops wanting them to come in a mini-van. Things got a little tense until it was quickly explained they were not being arrested but escorted to the gang who were on a vacant lot near the airport off-ramp, to prevent a repeat of last week’s debacle. Boss had negotiated another escort to the stockade in return for staying away from the terminal.
 
Reunited with the gang, Bang, Matches and Slit went off to exchange nods and winks with Boss and a few of the officers while Mrs Ferret introduced Megan to the wenches, explaining to opened mouths how Megan had Bang eating from of her hand with his little finger extended; in clean underwear.
 
With the chaos of eighty-nine bikes rumbling while jockeying into two seemingly random lines that were in reality posting a display of individual status to the trained eye, Slit silently walked to the roadside, hailed a cab and vanished into the morning traffic.
 
The trip to the stockade was quite some motorcade. Megan was impressed with the hoot and fanfare. The partying commenced immediately they reached the stockade. Not long into the proceedings Boss, in a gesture for an omnipresent absent comrade, walked forward and placed a glass of beer on the bar to stay until it evaporated, saying, “for Slit,” which was followed by everyone raising a can and roaring, “for Slit.”
 
With some consternation Megan asked Mrs Ferret what has happened to Slit. Mrs Ferret replied, “Slit slipped away at the airport, she doesn’t celebrate with us. She will be about when the bar is closed and everyone has recovered. We all owe her for something, when the alcohol takes over we forget to remember she doesn’t like being crowed and touched. We frighten her, Slit becomes quite scared when we wenches mob her.”
 
(The End)