Solo
I swing into the carpark in the dark of the night. It’s five am, and I’m not expecting to see anyone here today. Some of my mates are having a sleep-in after a fantastic surf yesterday, some of them are overseas, and others are otherwise engaged. To my surprise there’s cars everywhere, but the wrong kind. These aren’t surfer’s cars, loaded up to the eyeballs with roof racks, boardbags, laundry baskets, towels, wetsuits and sex toys. Instead they appear non-descript, suspiciously clean and positively of the wrong dimensions to hold surfboards of any description. Puzzled I park and get out for a stickybeak. There’s a campervan parked halfway across three carparks with written on it in pretend graffiti spray-paint the humorous lines “in alcohols defense I’ve done some really stupid shit sober”. It’s very funny, and would even be better if they’d actually put the apostrophe in it where it belongs. It’s a tell-tale sign raising immediate suspicions, and these are confirmed within seco...