This will be my last roadhouse post. It is the tough one. Our big ambulance call out. I can still hear the St John's guy's voice on the phone. We had a body to pick up. A young English backpacker biking across the Nullarbor had been hit by a truck. I remember the things some truck drivers did to keep awake, like seeing how close they could get to cyclists... Some 4 wheel drive enthusiasts had been doing CPR for 40 minutes before giving it away. We had to put him in a body bag. One of our staff ran around the site before we left with a big, black garbage bag flying behind him. A bad joke. He helped pick the body up off the highway though. Everyone coped differently. 80% of the police who attended were heroic, 20% fools and idiots. 20 years on I still want to cry. A priest from Norseman came out a few days later and we held a memorial service for a boy none of us knew. St Johns decided we could use some training after that. We did a First Aid course on the sticky carpet in the public bar. On second thoughts I'll do one more post. Our goodbye to the highway..
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