Broome’s beach is wide and flat and at low tide the sand is packed hard as concrete. Hundreds of cars and trucks race back and forth on the sand every evening at sunset.
You’ll find shrimp on the barbies and chardonnay in the glasses at hundreds of tail gate parties stretching for miles along the shoreline.
We enjoy going for a late afternoon/early evening beach walk, but we always need to keep an eye peeled for cars and trucks barreling down the sand.
Big news. I finally talked my nervous wife into letting me take our car onto the beach last night. Sure, lots of other cars were doing it, but she was convinced that her moron husband would somehow get the car stuck axle-deep in sand.
Jamie was happy as soon as she realized we wouldn’t need shovels to dig the car out of the sand.
Everyone else may have been drinking chardonnay, but Jamie had a canned ginger beer with rum and I had a bottle of water. I’m the designated driver and she’s the designated drinker.
