Deck Passage

The following morning we walked to the edge of town. We’d been told an Arab truck made a daily run down the road we were traveling and could be assured a ride. It was a warm day, but a cool sea breeze was blowing so we decided to keep walking until the truck made its appearance. We hiked some twelve miles before calling a halt. There was no traffic in sight—in either direction—but the day was pleasantly warm. We sat cross-legged at the side of the road next to our packs, ate what was left of our food and waited. Time passed slowly, with nothing to do but gaze out at the barren desert between quick glances back the way we came—always hopeful a truck would eventually pass. Hours passed without a single motor vehicle or any other kind of conveyance passing. We were getting concerned—with no food remaining and just a little water the prospect of spending an endless amount of time out here was dispiriting to say the least. We’d ceased all conversation. What was there to say? Both of us just withdrew into our own private thoughts. Then, far off in the distance we could see a speck of white approaching us from the west. It was some sort of vehicle moving down the highway at high speed. We stood up, mostly to get a better view but also to flag the vehicle down. As it came closer we could see it was neither a large Arab truck nor a car but rather something intermediate in size and shaped rather squarely. Bold black lettering on a panel above the windshield caught our attention. Just about the time we were able to make out what was written, the driver of the vehicle saw us and began to decelerate. DESERT RESCUE was what was printed on the all white vehicle—and in English!