Eating burgers in the back of a rented recreational vehicle parked outside of Macca’s. Hardly a highlight of our family’s adventure around New Zealand’s north island. But this trip is on its last legs and our only goal now is to re-fuel on fast food and get back on the freeway. So once the rubbish is binned, it’s time to get out of the parking area. But how? I have a look and the only possible exit I can see seems to go via the drive thru lane. It’s a bit narrow. But I’ve already managed to navigate this behemoth around some of the island’s most nerve wrecking roads with only minimum damage (paying for the excess-free insurance option proved to be a wise move). So away we go. Until we stop. The raised kerbs take a twist that the RV will not negotiate. Fuck. What do I do now? I look behind me and see a line of cars full of hungry Kiwis. Some start to honk their horns. I try to back out but hit the kerb. My wife is telling me that she said this wouldn’t work. This is not helpful information. A big Maori woman in a Macca’s uniform walks up to my window to say that I can’t go through this way. This is also not helpful information. An irate guy is asking me if I want him to back it out for me. He may as well be asking me to chop off my manhood and hand it over to him. No thanks – I got this. He rolls his eyes and decides to direct me. I inch forward and hit the kerb. I turn the wheel. I inch backwards and hit the other kerb. Sweat is sliding down my face. I turn to see that I now have a considerable audience of bemused Kiwis standing outside their cars watching the show. A couple are even filming it on their phones. I imagine my ordeal appearing on “New Zealand’s Worst Drivers” or “How Stupid are Aussie Tourists?”. Perhaps it will go viral over the net. After what seems like an eternity in Humiliation Hell, I finally  manage to back the RV out of the drive thru lane. There is a small round of applause.