I was taking a trip around Australia, driving this big old motorhome. I had some decent finances behind me, even if I didn't look like I did, and I was planning on spending at least a year on the road.
When this little episode started I was driving through some mountains. Some bloody treacherous roads up there with some very nasty bends. As you can guess, I didn't exactly have my foot flat to the floor. On top of the lousy road, the weather looked to be somewhat menacing. It was supposed to have been a clear day but some damn thick clouds gave the lie to that, the change having come a lot earlier than expected.
I'm no idiot. I'd already decided that if the heavens descended then that would be the end of my driving for the day. I'd pull up at the first convenient stop and prop there, spending the night if I had to. What's the use of a motorhome if you don't use it as a home during rough weather?
I'd just spotted the lights of a little general store when the rains came. No gentle shower this but an instant storm. Fortunately I was already getting ready to pull into the parking lot next to the store.
The store had extra covers reaching out from the store, shelters for the lonely traveller. I parked under some covers and managed to get to the store without getting too wet. Very nice and warm it was in there. Surprisingly spacious, too, with a large variety of goods.
I'd no sooner stepped inside and the bloke running the place came oiling up to me. He was the greasiest character I'd seen in a long time. My immediate impression was that I'd better put my hand on my wallet and keep it firmly attached.
He slid up to me asking what he could sell me. He had everything available. If I didn't see it, just ask and he probably had some out the back. Anything at all, he tells me, as he has a lot of customers that want a little extra not normally for sale in his sort of shop.
I'll just bet he did. Uppers and downers and your poison of choice, he probably had the lot. I explained I was really just taking a break from the weather.
Not in his shop, I wasn't. If I wasn't here to buy then I wasn't here at all. And the parking was only for customers. There was a truck stop a few miles further down the road.
"Geez, mate, have you seen the weather out there? A man could get killed trying to make it a few more miles to a truck stop."
No skin of his nose, apparently. I should just drive carefully. He was in business to sell stuff. Not give shelter to deadbeats.
So, OK, I say. I'll look around and buy something. I'm short a few groceries and stuff anyway.
I started gathering a few things together. Not many things because I suddenly noticed his prices. Quite a mark-up the old guy had. It wasn't that I couldn't afford it; just a basic objection to getting ripped off. My money would go twice as far at the next town.
I was at the back of the store, getting a couple of beers from the fridge, when this young woman walked in from the back rooms and started stocking some shelves. Wow and double wow. She was a honey. No more than twenty and stacked. Abbreviated top and short shorts and, man oh man, they looked good on her.
I took my things back to the counter and the proprietor started ringing them up.
"I take it everything in this shop is for sale," I said casually.
"Everything," he grunted.
"Prices negotiable?"
"Depends on what you want," I was told, the old man looking rather cagy now.
"Fifty bucks to have her carry my groceries out to the motorhome," I said, jerking my thumb to where the young woman was working. "I have a sore arm."
"That's my daughter, Didi, you're talking about," came the snarled reply.
"So?"
"Do you really think I'm going to send her out to your 'home so you can jump her? I know exactly what's on your mind."
"For fifty bucks, yes, I do think you'll let her carry out my groceries. If you think a woman who looks like that isn't already being jumped regularly, you're nuts. So why not by me, if it means fifty for you?"
He looked at me and then his eyes flicked down to the fifty I'd placed on the counter. He glared at me again, but grabbed the fifty.
"Just don't blame me if she turns you down," he snapped.
With that he called for the girl. She came sauntering up and my blood pressure rose. Sex on two legs, and I'm damn sure she knew it.
"Take these things out to this guy's car," he snapped. "He's hurt his arm and can't carry stuff."
She looked at me, shrugged, and picked up the box of groceries with no problems. I followed behind her. She looked around when she stepped out the door and my old motorhome was the only vehicle in sight.
"Spot on," I murmured as she turned towards it. "Just hang on a second while I unlock the side door."
I unlocked and stepped back and she hopped nimbly in, moving fast to avoid the splashing rain. I followed her in, closing the door behind me.
"Thank you," I said, as she placed my things on the little table. "Tell me, is that old geezer your father?"
"Not so you'd notice," she said. "I guess officially he's my stepfather. Why?"
"Oh, it just struck me as odd that he'd sell you for fifty bucks if he was really your father."
She just blinked at me, taking it in.
"You offered my father fifty bucks for me?"
I bowed my head in acknowledgement.
"And he didn't punch you out or pull out his shotgun?"
