Scott picked us up from Woo-woo-woo-woolgoolga. He took us several hundred kilometres all the way to Surfers. He had been driving all day and needed a rest, hence the stop in the National Park, which was exciting in itself (particularly given the noisy parrots that we saw this morning, about which Scott knew quite a lot).
He saved us from hitchhiker purgatory, rescued us from the ignominy of supper at the dull Thai place, and restocked our motivation from the inexhaustible stores that spring from serendipity. Not only that but he drove many, many miles out of his way to take us right into Surfers.
But he must have done something bad in a previous life. Because shortly after dropping us off (while we were on the other side of the road repacking my bag) Scott reversed his van into a Porsche that he could not see, which had just pulled in behind him.
The car in front of him was too close for him to get out without reversing. And it was illegally parked. His van was too high to see the super-low car that pulled in behind him after he had checked that the space was clear. The driver did not have the presence of mind to beep his horn, and his cries were drowned by the noise of the traffic on the main road.
I really hope Scott has insurance.