'Some People are Douche Bags..'
Trip Start Sep 09, 2004
394Trip End Ongoing
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I thought it was egg at first. It had run all down the windshield and down on to the fairing. Obviously some piss-head walking home or just some A-hole who wanted to spite the owner of a shiny new motorbike. But it wasn't egg. Of course it wasn't egg. And when I saw that the lid to the brake fluid reservoir had been ripped off I knew there and then, with that sudden sinking feeling that comes with every delivery of bad news, it definitely wasn't egg. How I wished it was egg. But no. That would be too easy. No Scotty. Not egg. Brake fluid. One of the old classics, and if I might add, a highly unsporting way in which to seriously piss someone off. And as always, it worked. Whoever it was had removed the lid, got their filthy little fingers in the brake fluid and flicked it about all over the instrument panel and fairing. And now it's all sort of melted away leaving thick random streaks. It's unsightly. And ungodly. Utter utter tossers. My guess is that they chucked the cap over a nearby fence as they trotted off home, proud of their work. It'll be an insurance job for sure, and there'll be a hefty excess involved - payable by me - for sure.
Some. People. Are. Douche bags.
On the flipside...
We met with Laurie the proprietor today for a yarn and came away with an immediate-start job and accommodation package working in the hotel restaurant and bar. Godsend! And of course this means we get away scot-free from the whole gamut of associated headaches of arriving in Perth, like job-hunting, the typing out of CV's (it's been over ten years), the eternal and unnecessary bullshit insisted on by the modern employment agency and the dreary prospect of house-hunting and ad-placing - oh the trouble saved. Now that's a result. That's more like it. That's karma!
So for the time being I'll be staying put, pit-stopping once more in a keen attempt to drag the fund-pot back up to a tangible level, a sorely overdue essential. Better than holding out for Perth though, or so it seems. I've been bantering a lot with the Mannion lately. Her and Jake (did I mention they got engaged at the top of Auckland's Skytower?) finally made it over to Perth a month or so ago and have been fighting tooth and nail to find work and lodgings. Like Kal, there's a shit load of work available, it's just finding a place to call home that's the problem - an absolute nightmare apparently. When I said we'd landed on our feet I wasn't joking. Ours is a steal of a deal. A token weekly fee buys a room in the hotel, all meals included (help!) and no trains or buses to get to work - just a short flight of stairs down to the restaurant. Happy days. So what's the catch? Simple. Kalgoorlie's a modest little town in the middle of the baking dust. There's nothing much to do here, so there's not a fat lot to spend your dollar on - an absolute haven of replenishment. But we are going in blind. Neither of us know exactly what work or what hours we'll be getting, nor do we know the place or the people. It might be a metropolis of inbreds for all we know. So I guess we'll see. Time will tell. My butt cheeks are clenched. I'm going in..