When you look at a map of central Australia, it shows immense lakes. But don’t be fooled. The water’s like Mark Twain’s description of the Mississippi River: “A mile wide and an inch deep.” They dry up long before summer arrives and leave behind some really impressive salt flats.
So there we were, driving along hundreds of miles from the nearest town when we came upon a red traffic light. We stopped because the traffic fines are sizable. Of course, we hadn’t seen a cop in days nor another car in hours nor a road crew nor any other indication why the red light was placed out here in the middle of nowhere, but why take a chance. We stopped and waited about five minutes for the light to turn green.
I can’t explain this one. It’s a roadhouse out in the middle of nowhere.