I didn’t quite curse the Subaru, but when the airconditioning failed on a 36C day, and my cigarette lighter failed to power the small fridge in the back, my patience was tested till I discovered that a pair of common tweezers could double as a fuse remover, and I was saved. And there were spares under the bonnet. Late the same day, a little panicked by the likelihood of landing at the biker-run roadhouse of Cocklebiddy for the night, we made a call ahead to the Belladonia one and did a mad dash to arrive before they stopped making dinners at 8pm. We ended up doing it with 45 mins to spare, but at the expense of a near crash with a kangaroo that saw the trouble awaiting it, and doubled back at the last minute. Kim spent the next hour as my official near-dusk roo spotter as we did 130kph on the longest straight stretch of road in Australia (145k). The meal and beer when we arrived were suprisingly good, and even coffees the next morning were done full Italian barrista style. If it wasn’t for the presence of the drunk-as-scunk road crew singing to an AC/DC greatest hits jukebox, and the inevitable stick mags and coasters everywhere, I would have placed it somewhere between Geelong and Colac for big-cityness. 
Nearly hit a kangaroo at 130kph, but otherwise all ok. Next morning, huge ravens clawed their way across the corrugated roof and woke us. We were slugged $1.85 a litre for non-Mobil juice and only having a 5 hour drive, took the time to get to know Norseman, which probably didn’t deserve that amount of attention. Is the reason houses and fences are made of iron sheets because of the scarcity of timber, or because they won’t catch fire. Not sure, but it makes for ugly temporary-looking houses. The tailings of the mines are everywhere, and they become attractive in their own way after awhile. We got into Kalgoorlie and found the town largely booked out due to a mining expo, and if there was ever any doubt about a resource boom over here, it was dispelled pretty quickly. The are mine sites everywhere. And randy miners need places to ease their loneliness, so said the madam at Langtrees on Hay St – on the brothel tour we did there on arrival. It’s a funny old town – the night before we arrived 30 drunks attacked 10 police at 3:20am right in front of our hotel apparently. A guy got his ear bit off. We were pleased to be spending a Sunday and Monday night here only, as they “tend to be a bit quieter” according to the Palace Hotel reception lady. We filled in today at the Mining and Prospecting Hall of Fame, a view from the Super Pit, watching some gold pouring and made a ghost-town visit in which nothing but a cemetary and a train platform remained. It was still somehow very interesting.