The wheels of the ute thundered across the dirt tracks, kicking out a giant cloud of dust behind from the sunbaked landscape. Bushes and trees flashed by on either side, with no sign of civilisation besides the rusty vehicle.
There was a dog on the back, with a deep brown coat. The kelpie had two paws on an eskie, as it howled along to the music blasting out of the cab. The owner wasn't much more in tune, as he sang along happily.
The man was dressed in the traditional outfit of single and shorts. He'd kicked his thongs off to make it easier to work the car's pedals, but he was the perfect image of a lax bush bloke.
The sun was scorching down, with all the violence of a traditional Australian summer. At least on that front there was no smoke in the air. The usual bushfires hadn't erupted yet, at least not in this part of the country. Others were charring black.
"Christmas in Australia, on a scorching summer's day!" He warbled out of tune, nodding and tapping one of his hands on the leather steering wheel.
The scorching sun didn't seem to drain either of them, as the kelpie howled in time with the traditional music. Its voice was a sort of whimsical cacophony that rolled around the untamed landscape.
As excited and free as the dog, the owner was just as much. His eye had a sparkle and gleam that only comes from being truly free. The man was unconcerned by the tracks, knowing them well. His tires were the ones that had dug down this path through the bush.
"Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden ute!"
The man's rough voice resonated against the backdrop of the rugged landscape. He sang with a sense of joy and freedom that seemed to transcend the scorching heat and dusty tracks. This was his home, his sanctuary, and he couldn't imagine a more perfect way to spend Christmas than on the open road, embracing the untamed spirit of Australia.
His face momentarily dropped to concern as he saw the gauge on the ute's dashboard starting to rise. The engine overheating, as it so often did. He might love the rust bucket, but he also hated the thing.
Distracted as he was, he very nearly missed the sudden thunder of the bounding packs of muscle. The ute's brakes squeaked and squealed as it tried to jerk to a stop as a mob of kangaroos came floating and crashing across the dirt.
Their enormous feet carried them like they were mice skittering around and not heavyweights that could snap you in two as much as look at you. Their heavy and stiff tail came dancing behind, rising and falling stiffly, like it was a stick on an anchor.
The red dust came in the mob's wake, and blocked out the now-still ute's windscreen. The kelpie stopped singing with a quiet whine as it was coated.
"Easy, mate. Won't be a moment." He said calmly to the dog, and checked the glovebox for a treat.
He waited until the dust had blown on by, and then tossed the piece of beef jerky backwards. He heard the snap as the dog snagged it out of the air excitedly.
However, the man didn't immediately start the car up again. He was looking just ahead, to where a stubborn eucalyptus tree was ripping it's way up in the landscape.
In the shade of the tree, there was something that really didn't belong.
The man rolled his ute forward slowly, bumping uncomfortably up and down on the uneven landscape, before leaning onto his window sill. "What's up, mate? You okay?"
The woman stopped trying to shake the dust out of her head for a moment, and split her heavily freckled face in two with a gigantic grin. "Bloody hell! Day for it, innit?"
"Right about that. It ain't safe to go without a car." He said with concern. "How you been?"
She shrugged, going back to dusting her head, "Yeah, was a fucking dumb idea. I'm from over in Birdsville. Thought I might be able to make it by Munga-Thirri. You know, waterfall at Christmas. That kinda shit."
"Well, it's a damn sight further on." The man replied, "Tell ya what, why don't you climb aboard? I'm stopping by a farm about two hour's east of here. You could probably spend the night there too, if you'd like."
She grinned and lithely leapt onto the back of the ute and tapped the roof, "Onward we go! And aren't you the cutest thing!?"
He laughed at her patting his dog, "Aunt Dolly named him, but he don't like it. Just call him 'dog'. And... Mind climbing in the cab? Ain't having you bucked off the back."
She laughed, and swung through the window and into the seat. "Figured. But ain't no way we were leaving without me patting Dog. He's a right cute bastard, ain't he?"
"Name's Clancy. What's yours, lass?" He said as the ute pulled away again.
"Quandong?" She asked, offering him a small handheld container of tiny and bright red fruit. "Me Pa called me Susanna, but most people call me Ginger. Old nickname, don't really remember where it came from."
"Nah, I find 'em too sour." Clancy shook his head. "Ta, though."
She leaned her head out of the window, grinning into the wind. Probably nice to escape the heat of walking through the desert on foot. He had no idea how she'd made it as far as she had, without a car.
The locals could, of course. But the locals weren't dumb Westerners who didn't carry so much as a bottle of water. The desert was an absolutely unforgiving sort of place for the unprepared.
"There's an esky in the tray, if you get thirsty." He said.
She turned around and took the opportunity to pat the dog again, before grabbing a bottle of water out of the ice. Clancy took note that she'd ignored the beer and soft drink. Maybe there was a brain in this one, afterall.
"Did you have anything planned for Christmas?"
She sipped at the cold water, giving off a big satisfied sigh, and sinking down into the hot leather seat. "Nah. Most of me family is over in Queensland. Couldn't afford it, this year. So just me and the waterfall. Kinda sucks."
"I'm on my way to my family." He said sympathetically, "And careful. If you drop that bombshell with me mum, she'll make damn sure you stay for the whole Christmas. Gal does a fantastic four course meal for the day, and... The rest of us kind of compete on presents."
Ginger glanced at him curiously, "Were that you telling me to make sure I don't stay? Or inviting me? Sorry, can't tell. Either is fine."
"Mostly inviting." He chuckled, "We're pretty open as a family. The old station has a guesthouse for the backpackers and everything. Not that there is that many, this time of year."
"Yeah, you'd have to be a right tosser to think you can squirm around in the desert, this time of year." She laughed.
"Mum'll probably insist you stay the night. Don't have to, but you'd be more than welcome."
Ginger nodded, "Well, considering the suckiness of my Christmas, I might just pinch yours. If you're offering."
"Absolutely."
She brightened again, shining like a star with that smile of hers. "Ya know, if it's a couple hours away, we should play a game."
"Eye spy gets old fast."
"More thinking Christmas shit." She shook her head, "Gotta play 'Windmill', 'course. But how about a bush ballad? What's your favourite Christmas carol?"
He laughed, "Your ears may bleed, but I love to sing."
---
The farmhouse reared up out of the landscape fairly suddenly, at the end of a very long track - but that one was stone instead of mud and hope.
Ginger gave a giggle as they approached, "I-i-i a-a-m a r-r-ro-bot!"
