The view was a killer.
There's something about marbles.
Giant marbles.
I use to play with them as a kid.
But playing with giant marbles.
A mind boggling exercise.
And I was up to the task.
My ticket allowed me three days around the park. I'd only need another hour.
Not only did I have to contribute towards the Uluru tribe, I had to pay to see something that should rightfully be seen, viewed and trodden on, for free.
The ticket didn't even include trodding up the rock.
What differed between Uluru and the Olgas?
The Olgas didn't have guard rails.
Every tourist was encouraged to walk along the gorge.
No guard rails meant more excitement.
Sure, you could slip and die.
Slip and break an ankle.
Or slip and slide and just have fun.
The Road Kill tour was all about fun.
Even when I was living out of my car in Perth, that fun was denied me.
Denied by others.
Which meant the fun factor was higher, purer.
I was out for fun.
And it could never be denied me.
Sure, certain parts of society looked down at me.
But then again, they looked down at me when I had four walls around me.
The difference being, now they could show their true colors.
Remember, I had loads of cash in my bank account.
I was cheating.
But they didn't know.
Did they?
