Divine Intervention

So, given the surprisingly high costs of food and lodging here in Australia, in making our plans to head South from Perth along the coast for nine days, Charlie and I thought, "Why don't we rent a camper van?" Great idea, right? We can cook our own food and stop for the night on the beach anywhere we want and not waste so much time packing and unpacking and making reservations. So, the day before we were to leave Perth, we called around to all the camper van places and no companies have a camper van available for all nine days except the last one we call - Wicked Vans. Charlie initially (and very wisely) said he did not want to rent the camper van without seeing it first, but then it turned out the Wicked Van office, which used to be just a few blocks away from our hotel, had moved to a distant location. And so, we do it. We rent the camper van. Sight unseen. We give our credit card information and the deed is done. Then we immediately thought better of it and called to ask whether we could cancel without penalty. We can't - there is a $250 penalty. Maybe we can just take the camper van for two nights? That could be fun. But no - the minimum number of days is five. So, we sucked it up and resigned ourselves to the idea that we are going to rent a camper van, for at least five days, if not nine.

The next day, we go to pick up the camper van. And upon seeing it, we realize that there is no way we can spend one night, much less nine nights in it. It is not really a camper van. It is just a van with some cushions in it that is spray painted with ugly and often horribly misogynistic graffiti, like "A wife is a household appliance you screw to get dinner made" and other charming witticisms like that. The windows don't open, and even if they did there are no screens, which is bad news because SW Australia has both very hot weather and mosquitoes. In New Zealand, such vans are known as "road roaches."

One of Charlie's best and worst qualities is that he never takes 'no' for an answer. We were specifically told yesterday that, if we canceled, there would be a $250 penalty. But Charlie asked again, can we cancel? It turns out that company had not yet charged our credit card. So we walked away without a very aptly named Wicked Van and promptly rented a car, which we should have done in the first place. We were so close to our entire time in Australia being ruined.

Through the next nine days, we saw literally dozens of Wicked Vans on the roads of SW Australia, and we passed every one. Not only are they dire and offensive, they are also slow.