Skyrockets in flight

Any travel writer needs to give practical, sensible advice from time to time.  Living on the road isn't all smashed avo on organic sourdough toast, you know.  Sometimes, we need to get our hands dirty with diesel.

So today, I'm giving your the inside edge on hire cars, and how not to get screwed over.  Even if you're a complete cheapskate like me, and scamming free vehicles for weeks on end.

The original plan was to circumnavigate Australia in a tightarse quest for The Ultimate Holiday Experience.

Around 700 km west of Emerald, Queensland.  Where I dumped my tiresome travelling companion.

Based on feedback, that's not going to cut the mustard.  I mean, people travel right around the country all the time, visiting tourism hotspots like Westfield Parramatta, the MCG and Ikea.  Instagram doesn't lie.

So why not focus on the real Australia?  Places like Coonabarabran, Stinking Gully (often known by the more polite moniker of Ferny Gully) and Marble Bar?  The sort of towns where men don't use deodorant, and women think waxing is something the menfolk do to cars?

So I'm now doing the criss cross thing, and adding Alice Springs, and most of Australia's inland population centres to the every-expanding itinerary.  Including Tasmania, unless that bounty is still on my head in Smithton.  Could somebody check and let me know please.

It might take years.  Who knows?  What is certain is the need for music on the long stretches between remote towns.  Music soothes the soul, and drowns out the bleating of my travel companion.

So before I left home, I picked 10 compact discs for the first leg.  Their selection followed hours of semi-autistic evaluation, making sure most genre were covered - death metal, black metal, nu metal, classic metal and thrash metal.

I left them on the kitchen bench.

But we were saved!  There was a forgotten CD in the Toyota Tank's player.

Better still, it was Soul Train Volume 14, which includes evergreen classics like 'Afternoon Delight', and forgotten (if inappropriate) grooves like 'I ain't going to bump no more (with no big fat woman)'.

We rolled into Kakadu just as track three was getting going -- Disco Tex and his Sexolettes -- to see a sign claiming there was bugger all fuel for the next, oh let's say 1,600 kilometres.

In the Territory, you need to give your Toyota (that's all people drive up here) a good going over every chance you get.

Remember the good ol' days?  When a smartly-attired young man rushed up to your vehicle, buffing your windscreen to a high gloss before checking your oil and water?

Those days are long gone.

Caltex in Longreach (recommended motto: go to the Shell down the road) is a case in point.

After filling the Tank's tank with $143 of diesel, I went looking for the air hose to check the tyres.

There wasn't one.

So I asked the owner where it was.  "A customer broke it" was the lame response.  I asked why he didn't get it fixed.  "Another customer will just break it again..."

I hope a meteor lands on him.

Which brings me to my first tightarse travel tip.  When you pick up your rental car, check the tyre pressure.  Most people never do, and the Tank's tyres were nearly flat.  On a long trip, those flat tyres can add 20 per cent to your fuel bill.

Another thing -- those forms you signed when you picked up your Hyundai Peril? (the $39 per day special).  It's going to cost you a lot more than $39 if the hire car company pings you for damage. And nearly every hire car carries a few battle scars.

So spend some time photographing every panel of the car before you even get in it.  Every scratch and ding.

Then go back and get the friendly person at the desk to acknowledge the damage.  They won't mind, trust me.

Finally, the biggest scam in Australia -- right up there with Airbonne and Chrisco Hampers -- is the insurance they try and flog you.  Avoid it.  You can get better cover with a cheapo travel insurance policy.

Either that, or do what I do;  cop the $4,000 excess, and try not to run into anything.



Happy travels.