It seemed like I’d just drifted off to sleep when I heard a car skidding to a stop on the gravel outside the camper. The doors were slammed shut and more than one person approached the camper. Whoever it was slammed their fist on the door.

“Po-lice! Open up.” At this point I’m wide-awake lying stiff as a board staring at the roof of the camper wondering if I was in some jet-lag induced nightmare. Either that or I’d inadvertently come to work for some crime syndicate.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Obviously they weren’t here for me. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I could hear Ron (the New Zealander I traveled with) stirring, but he wasn’t getting up and nor was British Steve.

The banging continued for another minute or so after which there was a series of loud cracks, like fireworks. At this point I was a bit suspicious. Unless we were being shot at, or flushed out with tear gas, it couldn’t be the police. What’s more, the cops wouldn’t be giggling and rocking the camper.

After a while, I recognised the voices. It was a couple of rednecks – not a derogatory label in this part of the world - that we’d met earlier that evening as we’d been leaving for dinner. As we were driving out of the yard, a small Suzuki jeep pulled off the road and made a beeline for our van, coming to a sideways stop in front of us.

British Steve didn’t look too impressed. He muttered something under his breath as he rolled down the window. The passenger in the jeep was a chubby, baby-faced bloke, probably about 18, with spectacles shaped like small aviator sunglasses. “Whatcha guys doin’?”, he shouted over the engine, a big grin on his face. Steve told him it was his birthday and that we were going to the pub to celebrate. “Ride on!”

Realising that we were new to town, I think the pair were keen to make an impression. Before fish-tailing out of the yard, they drew two huge circles in the gravel with the jeep.

And so, several beers later, they had returned to help Steve celebrate his birthday, complete with fireworks. They didn’t stay for long. I drifted off to sleep as I heard the jeep revving-up and leaving in much the same manner as it had earlier that afternoon.