8 am: I am camping in the right lane of Forrest Highway going 20 under the speed limit, it’s so heartwarming to see people waving at me, even if it is only with one finger.
9 am: To mix things up I swerve into the left lane without indicating, I notice someone who was losing their shit behind me has taken the opportunity to overtake me so I put the pedal to the metal and show him what this 300 can do, we both run foul of a speed camera.
10 am: I pull into the Crooked Carrot and park in two bays because I can’t trust these Patrol driving neanderthals to not scratch my 300 series, I tell the wife that this doesn’t make me a massive fuckwit.
11 am: after brunch, it’s time to ruin the life of the parking attendant at the Bunbury Farmers Market, I pull in and berate the boy for how busy it is, I do my best to make him cry but he’s battle hardened from dealing with tools like me all weekend.
12 pm: we arrive at my Yallingup beach house and I immediately remind myself of what my father paid for the property in the 1980s, this gives me a powerful affluence stiffy and I ask the wife if she’d live to make love to me, she declines.
1 pm: I tell the kids to go inside and I sort myself out by furiously rubbing myself to the sight of the dirt on my car, this really makes me feel like a big man and I blow voluminously.
2 pm: I arrive at my first winery and make that car park my bitch, I even used my 300’s capabilities to drive over a small area not designated as an official easement or thoroughfare, god I am hot right now.
2:30 pm: I am charging on 4WD prowess and spot a small stream. Probably 10cm deep. So I make my family watch as I put my snorkel kit to good use. You can tell by the look in my kids eyes that they consider me a hero again after sending them to boarding school despite living 5 minutes away.
3 pm: the next winery’s car park is at capacity so I double park some pleb Hyundai and enjoy my wine tastings as I watch them return to their car to find they have been dominated by the biggest swinging dick in Margaret River.
4 pm: I drive to Dunsborough and run afoul of some locals due to my tailgating, at the lights one gets out of his Hilux and scratches my side panel with some crude tool, I burst into tears and nearly shit myself in fear.
6 pm: I haven’t stopped sobbing in 2 hours so I decide to take out my humiliation on a seasonal employee at the local pub, this time she does cry and I shoot my wife a wink, still got it baby.
7 pm: I finish the evening by uploading a photo of my 300 Series parked in a cleared area of bush at the winery. I post about this being the exact sort of thing that runs through every red blooded fourby owners veins. I am mercilessly mocked.
8 pm: After another hefty sobbing session I decide that tomorrow I am going to go off road. Yep, I’m taking my rig onto the beach! I tell my wife and makes a snide comment about who is going to rescue us. God I can’t wait for our divorce.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
