The Man runs the only game in town. He sells gas, booze and porn. There's not much else I need. Inside, I can't make out what a trio of Aborigines and the white clerk are arguing about. The clerk ignores the Abos, takes my money, "G'day mate," and goes back to the argument. It's a scene that repeats itself nearly every time I pull into these isolated northern roadhouses: I need fuel, arguing Aborigines, "G'day mate" ... the beat goes on.