its hinges. Half an hour later, they were sitting in a beat up Volvo that had seen better days, but
at least it was better than the pickup. Dave had “forcefully” requested the Volvo SUV from Avis.
It had involved a lot of words that should not be mentioned in public. On second thought, they
should not be mentioned anywhere. The first problem was the direction. No one knew where the
south was until Dennis realized that by looking at where the sun rose, you could tell where was
south. The second problem was faeces. Literally. Half a meter of camel crap surrounded the city. It
was a good thing the car had wipers. Dennis suddenly needed a nap, so Dave left him in the back
seats and drove on. Fifty minutes later, Dave arrived at the dirt path. The first thing he did was
to clamber out and…… text, leaving Dennis to snore on. Dave then noticed the condition of the
car tires and swore. He dragged his father out of the car and took four new tires out along with a
portable jack. The problem was that the jack sunk into the sand when under the car. They drove
the car up onto the dirt path. The dirt path wasn’t really a path. It was a trail. The width was the
length of a bus and went on for miles, sticking out of the sand like an old person’s vein. With the
tires fixed, they strolled leisurely to a pond with a tree they had spotted in the middle of screwing
on the third tire. Dave went back to texting and Dennis to sleeping, though an hour later, Dave
would be sleeping too. The next morning, they had a breakfast composed of a can of beer from
Dennis’ bag, bread and margarine left from the last person or people who had used the car, and
beef jerky from Dave’s pocket. They had tried to catch the birds bathing in the pool, but all they
had to show for it was the birds’ “tokens of appreciation” all over their shirts. They took off their
shirts and scrubbed them in the pond with reeds and waited for them to dry in the car. It was two
hours past noon when they made their way onto the dirt trail, or path, whichever one you prefer.
The village was not a village. It was a shabby clutter of motley tents. Dave hollered “Package
from Quasar! Package from Quasar! Package from Quasar!” Everybody looked out but only one
person came out. A young woman about Dave’s age. She received it with vigor and ripped the
wrappings, revealing only a small box with a ring inside. A message was written in the language
of Mongolia that we don’t need to translate. The woman thanked the father and son duo, praising
them for bringing that wonderful piece of news.
Epilogue
Quasar and the young woman, called Benglutai, got married and settled down in Canada.
Dave became a social worker, but continued to text his girlfriend on his phone. He has changed
the ringtone
Dennis retired, to try and create a better bond between Dave and himself
