The document describes a road trip through New Zealand's East Cape region in a van. It details stopping in the small town of Ruatoria where they unexpectedly find themselves having tea with respectable white elders instead of finding other travelers. As they continue their drive along the coast while the sun sets, the fuel gauge begins to flicker empty with 50 kilometers still to go until they reach the tiny one-street town of Tologa Bay. Exhausted, they decide to grab some food and beer at the local pub and have their friend Bugsy fill up the van's tank in the morning.

1. 1
Having rounded the Cape in the van, everything still in working order, despite Walts driving into a
ditch at sight of the world’s most easterly Ostriches . This stone cold in broad daylight, no signs of
sleep deprivation, a subtle hint of the fuckwitedness that was to follow. Pulling over for a cold one
and a bite in the hick town of Ruatoria, Godsown’s alleged rastahaven in the lure for a reefer, only
to be seated with highly respectable white elders to be found in any middle England village for a
natter over tea and sandwiches.
Ride on, the vibe lost forever, should anyone hit the nerve centre it would be this off kilter duo,
apparently not anymore and the reality of settling into thirtysominness, unalarmed, the knickedy
knickedy edge of the buzz has us passed, this must be the start of normality as of course it should
be. Windows down, fresh Pacific air, easy tunes, harsh land formations blending with smooth rock
forms in the East Cape of the long white cloud.
Silence passing through the twighlight, crisp damp dew in the air as the temperature
cools and the light of day fades, the fuel gage flickering on empty as always with fifty
clicks to spare, the slightest blink of the eye at the wooden shack housing of Tologa
Bay in the true sense of a one street town jolted by the fuel thirsty Toyota as we
shudder to a halt outside the pub in clear view of the petrol station 30 yards across
the way.
Go grab a bite, take some beers back to the van, hit the z’ssss and have Bugsy fill the tank in the morning.
Couple of dozen islanders inside as we bumble to the bar and over courteously order two pints of Red Lion,
1|Page