Six days, y'all. I've survived six crammed, miserable, and unbelievably amazing days in this damn purple and green camper with a red bombshell plastered on the impossible-to-shut sliding door. And since I've learned more in these six days on the dynamics of deadly ladders and making a home out of a van than any bullshit travel book could ever teach me, I figured I'd shed some light on the knowledge I've gained thus far. You know, just in case you ever find yourself driving down the coast of Australia with your boyfriend and his mother.
Motels are hotels. Hotels are bars.
McDonald's will serve you a create-your-own sandwich on a wooden cutting board. You'll enjoy this said sandwich so much that it's borderline embarrassing.
Radio stations streaming live cricket noise are a great alternative to music when you've forgotten the adapter for the auxiliary cord and all other stations are static.
Wikicamps is the best damn $5.99 investment you'll ever make.
When it takes an hour to go 10 kilometers on a dirt road to a campsite where a nonworking clock is hung on a tree with a freshly slaughtered snake draped over it, it's probably in your best interest to leave.
Don't open your windows at night. You may find a gargantuan-sized cicada screeching in your ear on the head rest two hours later while driving in the middle of the night on a dirt road.
Don't get into a fight with your boyfriend's mom on the legality of going topless in Florida.
And when your boyfriend and his mom start going on about how 9/11 was an inside job, just quietly stare out the window.
When you're invited by someone working at a gas station to go camping with her and you feel like she may kill you, go on and go with her.
Dry shampoo will make you happier than brushing your teeth.
Kangaroos love sugar cane fields. And you'll probably see more flattened ones than live ones.
Don't trust your GPS. It has no idea what it's talking about.
Don't trust your boyfriend. He really has no idea what he's talking about.
If the packed dirt roads destroy your plates and glasses, Price Plus is the spot to find cheap shit.
If the teenage cashier at Price Plus cries because she's never met anyone from the U.S., encourage her to travel. If she creeps closer and says she wants to kidnap you and hide you in her basement, get back in the car and drive away immediately.
Woolworths and Coles are your beacons of hope.
Closely followed by Tim Tams.
Don't trust rental ladders.
If you see a fire, keep driving. You'll see another one in 80 kilometers.
If your boyfriend's mom is a MILF, most of your mornings will be spent trying to get away from 60-year-old Aussie men with one chest hair.
Don't shower with the hose that cleans toilets.
The only affordable alcohol you'll be chugging is wine.
And when you see a koala bear high as hell in a gum tree, all the bullshit you've been through will seem totally worth it.