A tale from the old Simpson Desert days.

I had arranged to meet the group of bikers at Purni Bore, but they hadn’t showed. As I had most of their fuel and water on board I was a bit worried.
I was even more worried when my fellow traveler had taken out a firearm, with the intention of getting a few bunnies for tea. I explained that these bikers were liable to appear from my direction at very short notice. Bad idea.
The next morning I waited for a bit and then set off for Dalhousie, the last place I had seen the group.
Dalhousie had a family group floating around when I got there. Stark naked!
Mum, Dad, teenage kids and grandparents. Without a hint of embarrassment Dad introduced me around. My eyes were almost on the ground as they told me no they hadn’t seen or heard from the bike group.
Hightailing it back to Purni, I heard a noise on the drivers' side. I slowed down with my heart in my mouth expecting to find a flat tyre. The biker flashed his light in my side mirror. Thank goodness I thought as the group rode alongside of me.
They had become bushed after dusk, having missed the track and decided to stay put. They’d seen the flash of my windscreen in the sun and wandered down to see what I was up to.
I’d never been so pleased to see a group of scruffy bikers in my life, even if they did want to go back for a peek at the group at Dalhousie. I told them we didn't have time for such foolishness.

I couldn't see it happening at Dalhousie these days.