Chapter 14

“Wake up,” I said to Abby, poking her a bit.

She swatted at my hand and mumbled, “Lemmesleep.”

Because the Defender was loaded to the gills with gold, camping and telescope, the three of us, Abby, Myndee and I, were crammed into the front seats.

Standard Defender seating is a pair of high backed buckets with an area where a console should go between the buckets. I ordered the “console delete add center seat” option when I bought the car. The center seat is narrow, thin and low backed.

Abby fit nicely. We seldom used the center seat but ... we needed every inch of the rear area. I even dismounted the middle row bench. It’s fairly simple to do. Fold, thrust, lift and the seat can be slid out the back hatch. As it was ... the tarped nugget was crammed against the front bucket backs.

I had laid the custom cut wood auxiliary floor over the small nuggets and packed the tent carrying cases, camp chairs and assorted crap on the wood. The way-back was telescope with certified heat treated insect free hardwood firewood filling the remaining space. My Dave Guard Martin D45 Dreadnaught guitar and stainless steel airline case was crammed on top; Abby’s flute was in the dash-box.

Right now, I had a recalcitrant daughter who would be mad as fire if I didn’t wake her as she had instructed... Who is da parent here? Somebody tell me. I really wanna know. Since she was finally speaking to me... Do I really really want her speaking to me again? ... I should ought to wake her.

Tickle city.

“Daddy! Damn it! Now I need to pee.”

I pointed at the service station door. She bailed ... I checked out her butt ... no wetspot.

I mean ... really ... I looked to see if I had tickled the piss out of her. Geese ... you guys. Disgusting.

Myndee was guarding the door. She ushered Abby inside and followed. There was a line when Abby was finally out the door. Myndee took the small seat so Abby could look out the window.

Spectacular views ... she oohed at the Zig-Zag Railroad in Clarence and squeaked at the steep sides and no guard-rail. She clutched at Myndee when she read the Falling Rocks Do Not Stop sign. She sighed when the tourist train chugged by and almost missed the Mount Wilson turn off ... almost.

It was Thursday ... of course we were not the first ... we’re talking about college age kids here. “Don’t let the university get in the way of your education.” The hand-out definitely said, Socialization with your peers is a must. They were socializing.

We called it “Getting lucky” when I was in school.

There was a big fire and a spot with just enough room for Abby’s Trango Four ... four person, four season. I was going to set up my sphinx but Abby wasn’t having it.

“With us Daddy. With us,” she said, “You can keep a closer eye on me.”

We hadn’t drawn much attention until Abby and Myndee started to set up the Meade.

“No ... not there,” said a blue eyed blond. “That’s too close to Milford. Right here.” She pointed at the spot next to her telescope.

“Is there something wrong with Milford?” Myndee asked.

“You have a better telescope,” she said. She looked at me when she said it. The look said it all ... Milford would sabotage it if he could.

“The Meade 16 belongs to Abby,” I explained. “She bought it with her own money.”

Just then the Sydney professor walked over. “Do I know you?” he asked Myndee. “Do you have some ID?”

“I’m not the student” she said. “Abby is the student.”

“This is for university students,” he said. “You’ll have to move.”

“I am a student ... Charles Sturt in Bathurst.” She offered her ID.

“Why are you here?”

She took out the official envelope with the invitation in it. “You invited me ... you invited the Third Year students. I’m a third year and it sounded like fun.”

Stuck ... he was stuck. One last chance... “Did you bring a telescope?”

She laid her hand on the Meade.

“You did.”

He turned to a pouting figure behind him. “Milford, you should have your facts straight before you complain. This incident will be reported to the board.”

The kid reached out and shoved Abby’s scope. I shoved back ... I broke his arm.

“You you have any idea who I am?” he screamed.

“Does your father own stock in the Mount Paradise Racetrack?”

“Yes! Some bastard got him arrested. He’s going to get even with that asshole.”

I smiled.