Road Games (1981) - full transcript

Ah, last motel in town again,
eh, Boswell?

Well, it's not exactly
the Ritz, but...

it sure beats spendin'
another night in the truck.

Right, mate?

Hey, listen, we'll get
some nice clean sheets,

and a hot shower,
and, after that,

we'll hop into a restaurant,
and get some nice chow.

A little paté foie gras,
veal scallopini,

dry marsala, and,
if we're lucky,

we might even get a disco dolly
for dessert. Right, mate?

Oh, and | won't
forget the doggy bag.



Salacious vermin.

Base Four
to Gypsy three niner seven.

Base Four to Gypsy three
niner seven, do you copy?

Oh God. Shall we?

Base Four to
Gypsy three niner seven.

Do you copy?

Mayday, mayday,
this is Flight 77,

| seem to beina
great deal of trouble.

I'm going down,
| need help. Over.

Is that you,
Gypsy three niner seven?

Negative, darling,
this is Quid.

Patrick Anthony Quid,
as in British sterling. Over.

Three niner seven,
we have a priority urgent for Perth.

Melbourne Meatworks,
five a.m. Over.



Negative, Base Four.
| haven't slept since Wednesday.

I'm hallucinating. Over.

I thought you
truck drivers took pills

for that sort of thing.

Darling, just because
| drive a truck

does not make me a
truck driver. Over.

Come on, three nine seven,
is that affirmative?

There's a strike in the west.
They need meat.

Sweetheart, there seems to be

a great deal of
interference here,

but | love you, I've
always loved you. Over.

Why do we always
have trouble with you,

three nine seven?

All right, we'll go double
time just this once.

Affirmative, Base Four.

Five a.m., Meatworks,
double time.

Over and out.

Hey, Boswell,
isn't that that young fox

we saw hitchhiking on the
other side of the weighbridge?

| told you we should
have picked her up.

Now that clown's gonna get her.

Hey, don't look at me, pal.

Use Smith or Jones,
what's the difference?

| mean, who cares nowadays?

Let's go.

Come on.

Oh, God.

First he steals my girl,
then he takes my bed.

Okay, Bozzy.

It's you and me, pal.

Now, listen.

No snoring,
and no evil smells.

| hope she steals his wallet.

I'll bet she doesn't even
wait to take her socks off.

Let's go! Hey!

I'm not pickin' that stuff up.
No, no. Leave that, leave that.

Go on.

Pack her, yup!
Next one!

BIN MAN

BIN MAN

Boz!

BIN MAN

Hey, boys.

| haul it in, you
haul it out, right?

"With full devout courage
of sundry folk by adventure fall

"in fellowship,
and pilgrims were they all."

Good morning, pilgrims!

Morning!

"Me thinketh it accordant
to resoun. To telle you al..."

Hello, been away
on holiday, eh?

Lovely.

To Warrnambool.

Fred Frugal and his wife, Frita.

Frita Frugal.

Bet she's a real dragon.

"You should have turned
right at the last left,

"and | told you,
but you never listen."

Poor guy.

| bet he's an accountant.

Maybe a school teacher.

Nah, an accountant.

You better watch it, kids.

Not careful, you'll stay
in that position for life.

Now there's a man with balls.

Benny balls.

Ah, Bozzy, "there is something
in the autumn air that

"sets the gypsy blood astir."

Sneezy Rider.

Hors d'oeuvre?

Hey, Bozzy, there's another one.

Maybe | oughta pick this one up
and take her to Perth with me,

dazzling her with my stylish
rhetoric and witty innuendo.

Eh? What do you think?

No?

No, maybe you're right.
It's against regulations.

All right, mate, that's nine
Jap traps, six Yank tanks,

and three VWs, which beats
your Rolls-Royce by ten points.

You wanna keep playin'?

All right, I'll tell ya what,

I'll give you an extra two points
for the trailer, okay?

All right, all right,
make it three.

| don't wanna argue with ya.

You know, that's the trouble
with you Australians.

You take your games
too seriously.

Ahoy, Captain Careful!

"Bound to the sea in a ship
born of your own patient hands."

Eh, matey?

What's the matter, Boswell?

Somethin' wrong?

Well, well, if it isn't
our friend from the motel.

Hey, heave to, friend,
move over your port side.

What's the matter, buddy?

Somethin' about that van
you're not tellin' me?

Hmm.

Wonder why he doesn't pass?

Maybe he's after our meat, huh?

| wonder if he's still got
that young fox with him.

Well, let's see if we
can get a better look.

Why does anybody get up at
five o'clock in the morning

to watch the garbage collectors?

...a vacation,
really, but my apologies to listeners...

...a sound-poem,
is what Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky

might have been,
if Lewis Carroll had composed a...

The time is one o'clock,

the weather is clear and stable,

my name is Warwick Ross,
and here is the news.

A council worker in the
Brisbane suburb of Eagle Farm

was shocked today
when he discovered

a human hand amidst debris
in a storm water drain.

The identity of its
owner is unknown,

but the hand will be packed
in ice and sent to Sydney

for comparison with a
human leg discovered

in a Townsville
tannery last week.

Police are denying speculation
of a Jack the Ripper type

murderer at large, and
claim the two grisly items

are probably unconnected
and isolated.

The United Meat Workers'
Federation has blamed

the critical shortages
of meat in retail outlets...

- Well, well.
- ...on the union's inability

to contact their accountant
Mr Floyd Day,

who is the principal
antagonist in the strike,

which has left
Perth without meat.

A spokesman for
the Federation has asked

that anyone knowing
the whereabouts of Mr Day,

who is believed to be
returning with his family

from the Nirvana Caravan Park
in Warrnambool, have been...

Sucker.

Hello, there!

Er... wait, miss.
I'm sorry, er...

I'm not allowed
to pick up hitchhikers.

Oh, I'm not a hitchhiker,
I'm not hitchhiking.

My idiot husband
drove off and left me here.

We could catch him if you hurry.

Why, isn't this cosy!

So high up.

Hope | don't get truck-sick.

- Oh, my name's Madeline Day.
- Pleased to meet you.

But Floyd, that's my husband,
the idiot, he calls me Sunny,

as in "Sunny Day".

Sounds like a wild and
crazy guy, your husband.

Oh, that's nothing.
We've got a daughter, Doris Day,

like the movie star.

We can go now,
if you don't mind.

Well, I can take you
as far as Yellowdine.

There's a roadhouse there,
and you can phone the police.

Your, um...
dog doesn't bite, does it?

Oh, he's not a dog.

It looks like a dog.

He's a dingo.

- Dingo?
- Yeah.

What would anybody
wanna keep a dingo for?

Well, I like him.

He doesn't eat too
much, he's quiet.

A dingo's a kind of dog,
so what's the difference?

A dog is a parasite hybrid.

| mean, he chases cars,
he barks at shadows,

and he eats his own faeces.

But a dingo, dingo's clean,
he's intelligent,

he's quiet.

In fact, he's physically
incapable of barking.

That's why they call
him "the silent dog".

He's an aristocrat.

Like me.

Are all truck drivers
as stuck-up as you?

Madam, just because
| drive a truck

does not make me
a truck driver.

Oh, you and your tundra wolf
sitting up in your ivory tower.

I'll bet you're not even
married, are you?

No.

Well, aren't you going
to pick her up?

Lady, that hitch is getting
to Perth faster than we are.

That's no reason to
call her a bitch, is it?

- No, hitch. "Hitch" as in hitchhiker.
- Language.

Well, a gentleman
would have picked her up,

with this maniac running
round loose, butchering girls.

What maniac?

The one on the radio,
on the news.

Yeah, go on.

| dunno,
just some maniac.

Yeah? Well, what else
did they say about him?

Did they say what
kind of rig he drove?

- 1 didn't say he was driving a rig.
- No, no, no, | mean...

How did you know my
husband was an accountant?

It was just a guess.

How far away is this roadhouse?

- It's not far.
- Good.

We have an accident here.
We're clearing the road.

Would you please pull over?

- Where are we going?
- Short cut.

Wait a minute, I've got it.
The hoochie coochie doll.

It's mineral, not animal.

Oh, I don't know, I've guessed
about everything in the truck

You never said
it had to be in the truck.

Well, that's ridiculous.

It could be a thousand
things outside the truck.

You're the one who
wanted to play games.

- Give up?
- Yeah, | guess so.

- It's your boots.
- My boots?

Leather is an animal product.

Aha! My boots are
imitation leather.

They're vinyl,
a thermal plastic radical.

La-di-da.

Which makes them either
mineral or vegetable,

but they're
certainly not animal.

- So, er... | win, right?
- But you gave up!

Okay, okay, okay.

- Hey, it's my turn.
- Okay.

Um...

- Animal.
- That fly there.

Now, look, if you're not
gonna play the game properly,

- l don't wanna play at all.
- Well, is it the fly?

Yes, it is the fly, but you're
taking all the fun out of it.

You've gotta ask the questions,

you've gotta narrow it down
more logically.

Okay, this time I've
got a real good one.

- No, I've had enough.
- Oh, come on, it's really easy,

and it's not even animal product,
it's just plain ordinary animal.

Okay, but no tricks.

I'll give you a clue.
It's bigger than a bread box.

- Me?

- Boswell?
- No.

- Well, it's gotta be you.
- Wrong.

Lady, if there is an animal
bigger than a breadbox

inside this truck,
you better tell me about it.

| never said it was
inside the truck.

- The pigs?

- Kangaroo?
- No.

- An emu?

Well... the Nullarbor Nymph?

Lawrence of A-friggin'-rabia,
| don't know, this is crazy.

- You give up?
- Yeah, | guess so.

It's that man back there.

| didn't see any
man back there.

'Course you didn't.
You were too busy arguing,

but there was a man back there,

standing beside a dark green van,

and he was digging a hole.

What the hell is he doing?

| told you, digging a hole.

What's wrong?

- What's wrong?
- Ssh!

What the hell was he burying?

Is this another game?

Why does a man stop in
the middle of nowhere,

and dig a hole?

Maybe he had to,
you know, go to the toilet.

Lady, you don't understand.

This same guy picked up
a hitchhiker last night,

and then, about
four-thirty this morning,

he watched the garbage bags
being collected outside the motel.

And now he's burying
more garbage.

Doesn't that seem a
little weird to you, lady?

You truck drivers
take drugs, don't you?

You've got the DDTs.

"Cast to the wind
thy ghastly sin."”

Pardon?

That's it.

The ghastly sin is dissipated.

Erased from existence.

And another thing:

a body wouldn't last
half a day out here

with all the birds
and the insects.

| don't know what
you're talking about.

I'm talking about sex.

| am talking about sex.

Stolen from a young girl

in the back of a van
or a seedy motel.

And I'm talking about guilt.

Terrible guilt.

Awful guilt.

A guilt so terrible that
it can only be obliterated

by spreading the evidence
all over the countryside.

Jesus.

| think I'd like
to get out here.

No, wait, wait a minute.
Now, don't be silly.

Now, listen,
what exactly did they say

about this guy on the news?

| don't know what you mean.
| don't know anything.

Hey, now, come on, lady,
you're supposed to be

the authority on weirdos.

Now, come on, help me out.

Now, it was
something about, um...

Jack the Ripper, or, er...

| don't know what
you're talking about!

I'm just talking about
a hunch, that's all.

- I wanna get out!
- Wait, wait, wait, wait.

- First, I've got a game.
- l don't wanna play.

It's, er... animal.

No!

It's bigger than a breadbox,

but it's small enough to fit
in a plastic rubbish bag.

That is a sick game!

A human being is not an animal!
| know what you're thinking,

- and it wouldn't fit in a rubbish bag!
- Oh yes, it would,

- if you cut off the damn head!
- Stop it!

Hey, lady!

Lady!

Lady, stop!

Now, lady, | am not gonna
hurt you, | promise.

Listen, you stopped me
on the road, remember?

I'm just a truck driver.

| know | talk a lot, and...

I'm given to flights
of the imagination,

but there's no need
to be afraid of me.

Lady, please, let's just
go back to the truck, okay?

We don't want trouble.

- We never wanted trouble.
- Yeah, well, who does?

Then they threatened my children.
Horrible phone calls, late at night.

They killed our dog.

When the police came,
they said the strike was Floyd's fault.

We've got our own problems, mister.
We don't need anybody else's

| didn't see any man
back there, understand?

Yeah, | think | do.

No vans, or lunchboxes,
or anything to do with police.

And no more games.

Right.

No more games.

Hello? Er... hello,
I'm trying to get in touch

with the nearest police station.

Right, right, hold on a second.

Er... hello, my name is Quid,

and I'm calling from
the roadhouse at Yellowdine.

Oh, sorry, Yellow-"dyne".

Right, listen, | may have
some information regarding

those murders that
you're investigating.

Yeah. No, no, no,
my name is Quid.

Quid!

Patrick Quid.

Q-U-I-D!

Quid!

As in pound note.

Right, I'm a truck driver.

A truckie, right!

Listen, | may have some, er...

Hello?

Hello?

Sorry, sorry.

No, | was saying, er...

Well, I... I'm trying to,

but | think we've got
a bad connection here.

And listen, I'd rather not
get into it over the phone,

if you don't mind.

Well, what does it matter
what my name is?

| can't stick around,
| can't get involved.

I've got a load of meat that, um...

Well... listen, it has to do with this
business on the news about, um...

What?

No, meat!

Pigs!

I'm carrying meat, mate!

M-E-A-T!

As in meat?

Right, well, it has to do with
a guy in a dark green van.

MAN

MAN

Well, I... I'm trying to, but...
Listen, if you just hold on,

- and listen to me for a second...
- MAN

Excuse me. Er...

Have any of you fellas seen
a guy in a dark green van?

Thanks.

I'm sorry. Um...

No, no, | was talking about
a guyin agreen...

A green... green...

Hold on, hold on,
just a second.

Hey, man, would you
kill that music, please?

Hello?

What?

No, it's Quid!

Q as in "Quartermaster”,
U as in"Utopia”,

| as in "lce cream"...

I-C-E
C-R-E...

Oh, Jesus.

No, look, | cannot stick around.

| have gotta get
my porkers to Perth! Now...

No, no, it's Q-U-I-D!

D as in "Death of young girls",
you cretin!

Excuse me.

That your dingo?

Yeah.

There's a bounty on
'em in this district.

Well, er... he's just a pet,

and anyway, we're
travellin' on through.

Neither here nor there
to the locals, sport.

They shoot 'em on sight.

The law.

You wouldn't want to break
the law, would ya, mate?

Boswell!

- Boz!
- My name"s Madeline Day,

but Floyd...
that's my husband, the idiot,

he calls me Sunny
as in "Sunny Day".

Anyhow, young Dennis
had been sick all the way...

Boswell, what happened?

Son of a bitch!

What the hell?

What the hell's gotten into him?

Okay, buddy, if that's
the way you want it.

Well, whaddaya
know about that?

What do you say, Boswell?
Third time lucky?

Aren't you kinda young to be
hitchhikin' out here all by yourself?

Aren't you kinda old
to be picking me up?

It's not a pick-up.
It's just a lift.

L, er... | don't usually
pick up hitchhikers.

What makes me the exception?

| don't know.

| guess | just
kinda felt sorry for ya.

| didn't know there were
any chivalrous truck drivers.

Oh, what happened to your dingo?

You didn't, by any chance,
happen to see a guy in a green van?

Yeah, why?

| wonder why he
didn't pick me up?

You sound a little
disappointed that he didn't.

And how old are
you anyway, Hitch?

Old enough.
How old are you?

Old enough to be your father.

My father's 67.

Oh.

You know, maybe he
makes love to 'em first.

Hitch, does your
67-year-old father

know you accept rides
from truck drivers?

My name isn't "Hitch".

Does your mother
know you're gone?

She's dead.

My father lives with a whore.

So, you ran away?

No, | walked away.

Well, Hitch, don't you
think it might be a good idea

to call him and let him
know that you're all right?

Ah, maybe that's how
he gets his rocks off.

Your father?

No, your Mr Smith or Jones.

You know, the Boston
Strangler was on a sex trip.

God, maybe he makes
love to 'em afterwards.

- Oh, c'mon, Hitch...
- Well, why do you think he does it?

| don't know. | mean,
| really don't know that he does.

| mean, let's not get
carried away about this.

Are you kidding?

It's the most fun
I've had all afternoon.

Okay, I've got a game.

Good, Scrabble.

No, let's call it
the Smith or Jones Game.

Sounds interesting.

All right.
Now, let's assume

that there is a method
to his madness.

That everything he does is
for a logical purpose, right?

Okay.

Okay, now he's
just killed a girl.

Did he make love to her first?

| don't know.
What's the difference?

It makes a lot of difference.

| think in order to
play the game properly,

we have to know what
he thinks of women.

It's my game!

Okay, Sherlock.

It's the method
we're interested in.

Now, he's just killed this girl.

Now, how does he
destroy the evidence?

Cuts it up.

Yeah, but why?

Um...

So the pieces won't be found.

Yeah, but pieces
don't prove anything.

| mean, you can put an arm
or a leg out with the garbage

- and it proves nothing, right?
- That's ridiculous.

Yeah, but it's the law.

| mean, you can
lose an arm or a leg

without necessarily
being dead, right?

- Yeah, but...
- But if you lose your torso,

you are definitely dead. But...

Lose your torso,
| think you've had it.

But, one torso is pretty
much like another that...

Oh, foul!

You lose a turn.

| don't think it's so
important what he does.

It's why. | mean, what
does he think of women?

- You're kidding.
- No!

| mean, wouldn't you like
to know what he's thinking?

You know, get inside his head.

I'd like to get inside
his friggin' lunchbox.

I'll tell you what he thinks
of women, he despises 'em.

- He thinks they're pigs.
- But why?

- You know what | think?
- Mmm.

| think you have much more fun
sitting up here with your stereo,

and your air conditioning,
and your dingo.

| don't think you wanna know.

You always done this?

No, I've not always done this.

When | was your age, | was
first mate on a gunboat

in the Persian Gulf.

John bloody Wayne.

By the time | was thirty,
| was transporting guns

across the Sudan border...

by camel.

Mmm, by camel.

And now you're pushing
piggies to Perth.

Hitch, don't you think

you oughta let somebody
know you're all right?

Nah. Why?

Your father might have
the cops out lookin' for ya.

Nah, he wouldn't do that.

Oh, yeah?

Would you step down, please?

What you carryin'?

Pigs.

You in the habit of
pickin' up hitchhikers?

No.

You pick up a
hitchhiker last night?

What?

The manager of the
Melbourne Car Hotel

claims you checked
in with a young lady

fitting the description
of a missing person.

Me?

Your name was on the register.

What?

Well, look, anybody could've
copied my name off the truck.

Why would anyone
want to do that?

Hey, now, wait a minute.

What happened to
that girl, anyway?

What makes you think
something happened to her?

Well, look, | don't want to get
hung for somethin' | didn't do.

Meat is hung.

Men are hanged.

What's happening?

Well, did you tell "em
about the lunchbox yet?

Oh, sure.

And where were you a
week ago last Saturday?

Um... Port Hedland. | was
carrying some mining equipment.

And the Saturday before that?

Um...

Melbourne. Yeah, | was
laid up overnight in Melbourne.

Why?

Well, the logbook confirms he was
where he said he was, Sarge.

Logbooks can be cheated.

"Book of Lies", they're called,
aren't they, Mr Quid?

Has this got
something to do with

the thing that happened, er...
on the radio?

Because, if it does,
| suggest that you, er...

catch up with the guy in
the green van, because...

According to this logbook,
you should have had a

twelve-hour stopover
two days ago.

You don't have much respect
for the law, do ya, mate?

Well, if that young lady you
shacked up with last night

has come to any harm,

we'll know exactly
who to talk to, won't we?

It wasn't me.
Now, if you don't believe me,

you can talk to
the manager of the motel.

How long you had that dingo?

About four or five years. Why?

What's the matter?
Didn't they believe you?

Believe me? I'm lucky
they didn't shoot Boswell.

Did you tell them
about our little friend?

Who?

- The guy in the van.
- What?

- The guy...
- I beg your pardon?

Oh, | get it.

- You know what this means, don't you?
- What?

We're just gonna have
to get him ourselves.

Oh, sure.

"Elementary, my dear Watson."

Except our friend in the van
could be all the way

to Perth or Timbuktu,
for all we know.

| don't get you. First, you
tell everybody this story,

and now you don't want
to do a damn thing about it.

No, not today.

Why not today?

Look, Hitch.

I'm not tryin' to
lay a trip on you,

but we gotta pull over
for the night.

Why?

Regulations.

"Nothing beside remains.

"Round the decay
of that colossal wreck,

"boundless and bare.

"The lone and level sands
stretch far away."

So, you like my place?

Needs work.

Well, I only keep it
to impress the ladies.

Yeah, | bet you they're
real impressed, too.

First stop on the
Pat Quid guided tour.

Hitch, you can leave any time.

What? Are you
gonna call me a cab?

By the way, name is
Pamela, not Hitch.

Pamela what?

That's all you need to know.

| don't get it.
What's the mystery?

Are you on the
lam or something?

What if | was?

Would you turn me in?

Me? No.

Well, I'm not.

So, what have you got to hide?

The fact that you're
somebody's daughter?

Most girls are usually
somebody's daughter.

But you're not just
somebody's, right?

You're quick.

Well, | mean, er...

you're not what | would
call the typical hitchhiker.

| mean, it's kind of obvious that
that look is not early Salvation Army.

So, come on.

Who's your dad?

Come on!

| promise | won't
hold it against ya.

He's in the diplomatic
service, let's call it.

And you didn't
like the service?

Life was incredibly
diplomatic in Canberra.

Now, you're, er...
lookin' for a little adventure?

Nn-nn, I'd go to Disneyland
for a little adventure.

What I'm looking for
is a little excitement.

Ah.

- What is this place, anyway?
- Mmm?

Oh, it's
Old Telegraph Station.

Used to be a town of about
700 people who lived here.

What happened to 'em?

They were devoured

by the dreaded
Oryctolagus cuniculus.

Sounds erotic!

Listen, listen very carefully,
you can hear him out there.

Munching.

Is he animal,
mineral, or vegetable?

Oris it man?

Advancing like an army
of plastic dentures,

devouring his fellow man?

And woman!

And woman.

Thank you.

What is a Cunic...

Cunaclum?

Cuniculus.

What is it, anyway?

A rabbit.

A bunny rabbit.
No, I'm serious.

In the 1800s, it was a
plague of rabbits here,

and they ate all the vegetation,

and the sand dunes
began to advance.

It's when everybody left.

| guess it's why | like it here.

Rabbits?

You're weird.

Where ya goin'?

Use your imagination.

Hitch.

Pamela.

Watch out for the bunnies, huh?

Hello?

- Hello!
- Hi. What are you doing?

Just, er... keepin'
the passengers company.

Shut the door.
You'll let the cold out.

Goodbye, young porkers!

"Goodbye, and keep cold!

"Dread fifty above
more than fifty below."

- How ya doin'?
- Okay.

Robert Frost.

- How'd ya sleep?
- Not bad.

| could sleep on a fence post.

- How 'bout you?
- Well...

"Sleep not, dream not.

"This bright day

"will not, cannot last for aye."

Emily Bronté.

- Right!
- Read much of her stuff?

- Yeah, | have.
- In school?

Nah. | didn't go to school.

Self-educated, more or less.

What's that old expression? Er...

"Education is hanging
around long enough...”

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Talk in poems.

Do I?

Poems are old and dusty.

You're not old and dusty.

How old are you?

Too old.

| don't think so.

What's that?

"Pig in a poke,
you better start shakin'.

"Today's pig
is tomorrow's bacon."

TS Eliot?

Hi, Daddy, it's me!

No, I'm fine.

Doesn't matter
where | am. I'm fine!

Hello, Nancy.

What do you mean, "get raped"?

He's actually a very nice guy.

Yes, he is a truck dr...

Look, I didn't call you...

I didn't call to get yelled at.

| just wanted to let
you know I'm fine.

No, I'm not coming back.
Not now.

Look, I'll call ya later,
all right?

Jeez, | hit a bump
about a hundred miles back,

and the bloody thing's
been driving me crazy!

Can you turn it off?

What'd he say?

He was very diplomatic.

Then my stephooker
got on the line.

Wanted to know if I've
been laying truck drivers.

See what I'm up against?

Yeah, well, at least
they know you're alive.

Mmm.

Jesus, let's get outta here.
That noise is driving me crazy.

- I gotta use the ladies' room.
- Okay, make it snappy.

Quid!

Here.

Excuse me. Er...

Have any of you fellas seen...

Wait here.

Fix the bloody thing.
It's driving me crazy!

Kinda caught you with your
pants down, didn't we,

you slimy son of a bitch!

You know, butchering
young girls is one thing,

but when you hurt my animal,

you made a big mistake, pal.

What's the matter? Cat got
your tongue, you miserable stink?

Thank goodness for that!

- What do | owe you?
- Er... make it five bucks.

Five?

Come on, not one?

Five bu...! What are you doing,
charging me for five hours?

Look, any bloody fool
can do that.

- Five?
- Come on, fair go!

Word of advice, shithead.

You try anything funny,

and this dog is gonna have
your eggs for breakfast.

You know, there's no way out.

Except down the S bend,
or through me, cowboy.

I'm talkin' to you,
Mr Smith or friggin' Jones,

or whatever your name is!

Oh, I'm sorry, mate.

| thought it was somebody else.

| apologise. Really, I...

Hitch!

Go to the truck, Boswell!

Shit.

Boswell!

Look out, mate, look out!

Watch out for the
dingo, he's vicious!

That's right!

Go straight for your crotch,
if you're not careful!

Hey, hey, hey!

If you read about this in
the papers tomorrow morning,

you'll know what it's all about!

You gonna go straight
for his crotch, buddy?

That's funny, he's slowin' down.

Maybe he's outta gas.

Maybe this is some
new kinda game.

She doesn't look
too kidnapped to me.

Does she to you, buddy?

What the hell is she doin'?
Psychoanalysin' him?

Hey, you don't think
she'd be stupid enough

to try and
blackmail him, do ya?

Well, | don't know, Bozzy.

Maybe we've been barkin'
up the wrong tree.

| told ya, man, | told ya the
first time we picked her up,

she is trouble.

| knew we shouldn't
have done it.

| hope she steals...

Well, at least she
didn't get my wallet.

Well, she's all yours,
Mr Smith or friggin' Jones.

Whatever your game is.

| mean, let's face it, what have we
got on him anyway, Boz, huh?

What do we know about him?
I'll tell you what we know about him.

We know absolutely zilch, nada.

| mean, is it against the law
to dig a friggin' hole in the desert?

Is it a crime to have a
lunchbox and thump dingoes?

Or put out rubbish bags at
five o'clock in the morning?

| mean, what does that prove?

So, what if he is a murderer
and he's goin' around

systematically butcherin'
every female in sight,

and makin' 'em into tacos?
Who gives a shit?

If the cops don't care about it,
| tell ya, | don't.

| mean why is it my responsibility
to take care of road waves?

We are truckers, Boswell,
and from now on we're gonna truck!

And | don't wanna hear
another word about it!

This is the news in brief.

The United Meatworks Federation
still sees no end in sight

to the marathon strike,
which has left most of West Australia

without fresh supplies of meat.

A spokesperson for the
union denied allegations

that union strong-arm tactics
have been used against

the United Meatworks
accountant, Mr Floyd Day.

Although, it is alleged
that Mr Day and his family

have fled interstate.

Police in Melbourne and Perth
are seeking the assistance

of motorists in connection
with the disappearance

of 20-year-old heiress,
Pamela Rushworth,

daughter of US diplomatic
adviser Warren Rushworth.

According to Mr Rushworth,
his daughter is travelling west

with a truck driver
described in his mid-forties.

Police have fears
that the truck driver,

whose name has
not yet been released,

may be the same man
wanted in connection with

the disappearance of
a missing Melbourne girl.

Authorities are denying
any positive connection

between the two missing girls,

and the series of macabre attacks
on young female hitchhikers

in Queensland
and New South Wales,

although they remind the public that
hitchhiking is extremely dangerous,

and of course, illegal.

Allegations by a senior
medical officer in Sydney today

that drivers who operate vehicles
under the influence of drugs...

Maniac.

He cuts 'em up
like a Sunday roast,

and the cops are out
lookin' for me.

But they got nothin' on me.

Nothin'.

I'm not worried.

| can prove it.

Well, autopsy,
handwriting expert,

dispatcher.

| was on the road that night.

Hitch.

What was her name?

Pamela. Think it was Pamela.

Jesus, | hope they didn't
see her in the dog box or...

No.

Cops couldn't have seen her.

What am | going to
do with this truck?

Hitch?

Coward.

Oh, Harry!

Harry?

Oh, Harry... Oh...

Oh, wow! Oh!

Harry and Hitch.

Hitch and Harry.

Didn't even bother
to park the van.

Boswell!

| honestly thought she
was worth something.

Falls on her back, legs up.

Ready to give a good whack
to the first Tom, Dick,

or friggin' Harry
that comes along.

Oh, they're all the same.

They do it like animals.

No offence, pal.

Forget it, buddy, she isn't
worth a second glance.

Boy, I'll tell ya, | may
have to start takin' dope.

| gotta do something to get
rid of these hallucinations.

Maybe he does make
love to 'em first.

One thing for sure,

| need some sleep.

What's the matter, buddy?
You hear that?

Oh, great,
that's just what | need

for the frickin' meat
to start thawin' out.

What's the matter, buddy?

You know something | don't?

Just hold on, stay here.

350 pigs.

Four on this side,
four on the other side.

How many rows
have they given me?

Twenty on this side...
That means...

How many would there have to be?
About four... that's eighty...

352, 350,
what's the difference?

- Two.
- We just miscounted, that's all.

350 divided by eight...

And I... | forgot to latch
the doors this mornin'

when |I...
| was talkin' to Hitch.

- You know what probably happened?
- What?

Sam just threw a couple
of extras in by mistake.

Sam doesn"t make mistakes.

Well, maybe it was a
little payola, | don't know.

He's always taking care
of his friends in Perth.

- Happens all the time.
- Let's see, that's 35 times two...

And the meat at the front
wasn't frozen because...

- Why?
- Well, we were goin' so damn fast

that the cold air, being heavier,
well, being more dense,

just, er...

wasn't circulating, that's all.

Hot air.

Yeah.

That's all.

Steep descent.

She's all downhill
from here, Harry.

Come on, baby,
we're gainin' on "em.

Come on.

He's slowin' down again.

Ah, he's run outta gas.
| knew it!

Oh, shit.

Hey, Lester!

Evening, Quid!

Looks like you
got some heat tonight.

Bloody cops.

Who are they lookin' for anyway?

Ah, always lookin'
for some poor bastard.

- Let's get you weighed.
- Right.

You run out of gas?

Gas station right here.
If you get around the back there...

We'll give you a push.

Take the wheel.

Hey, you are 75 kilos over!

- Really?
- Mmm.

"Bout the weight
of a hot TV set, eh?

How's the Book of Lies?
All in order?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Listen, Lester, I've got a kind of
a priority urgent situation...

Say no more.
| won't hold you up.

Hey, what are you carrying?

Meat!

Seems a bit more like
marijuana to me, eh.

Bloody animal.

Not mine.
| wouldn't have one, meself.

No, no, it's a new TRB thing.
They've trained 'em to sniff out marijuana.

Ah.

Well, you got me.
| confess.

Pat, you crazy bastard,
he wouldn't know pot from pot roast.

Yeah.

Listen, Lester, | better
get these piggies to market.

Oh, yeah. Here you go. I've got
a fresh pot of coffee on and, you know...

Oh, thanks, Lester,
that's real nice of ya,

but, er...
I'll take a rain check, okay?

Oh, right, right.

On your way!

Hold it, Quid!

You got something
wrapped around your axle!

What is it?

Ah! It's a bunch
of wire and shit!

It's probably why
you're 75 kilos over.

All right, Lester, just let it be.
It'll be all right! Thanks, anyway!

| got some
wire cutters in the office.

It'll only take a second...

No thanks, Les,
I'll see ya later!

But you're gonna
bugger up your trailer

- unless ya do something!
- Yeah, thanks for the hand!

| was pullin' a road train
out of Broken Hill once.

Got a length of chain
wrapped round me diff.

Whole bloody thing got
caught in a cattle grid.

Ripped the whole
rear end off!

Sneaky bastard.

Christ, talk about the
meat in a sandwich.

He wants us to follow him.

Okay...

What kinda game is this?

Bloody hell!

Get underneath, and see
what's happenin' up there!

| got you now, you bastard.

Hey, hey, wait a minute!

Hey, wait a minute! Hey!

Hey, wait a minute,
you got the wrong guy!

- I'm tellin' ya!
- Stand back, please.

Keep this area clear.
Stand back.

He rammed me off
the road, he did.

That man, that man,
he tried to push me off a cliff.

And he trapped me in a toilet.
Same guy.

Wait a minute,
will you, listen!

| promise you, it's
that guy over there!

Don't let him get away!

It's that guy over there!

Jesus.

Hey, look, if you don't believe
me, check the van, will ya?

Just check the van!

Is that your dog?

It's not a dog, he's a...

He barks!

It's that guy over there,
I'm tellin' ya, it's him!

That's him!

Hitch!

| thought you said
he was in the bathroom!

Where do you think
you're going?

| thought you were dead.

Well, thanks a lot!

You know how long I've been
in this stupid sleeping bag?

Well, I've had kind of a
rough day myself, thanks!

Now, just a minute, which one of
these two characters abducted you?

That one, you jerk!

Me and about 20 others!

But where are they?

Why don't you pick up a shovel
and dig up the Nullarbor Plain?

You okay?

It's just when you pay
a hundred dollars for a dingo,

you expect to get a dingo.

Jesus.
$100,000 worth of damage.

| just can't believe you actually
thought | slept with the guy.

- Well, where were you, then?
- 1 told you. | don't know!

| had a sleeping bag
over my head.

Well...

Thank Christ they were
able to salvage the meat.

Now what?

| don't know.

Thinkin' 'bout headin' up north,
see if | can get a job up there.

Okay.

You know, somethin' | forgot.

Forgot to tell the police.

That body that they never found,

| thought it was you hangin'
in the back of the truck.

But, er...

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