bleeding the tyres

Arabs believe in persons, not in institutions
T E

But the waiting was horrible, and in that emptiness of hope and desert my mind began to wander. I knew I would die very soon with the few litres of water that I had. They were enough for the couple of hours I expected to be in the car till I got to the highway, but certainly not for days in the desert. Then came plan B: I'd give myself this one night to dig myself out, and would set off walking to the camp the next night if the vehicle was impossible. I would carry my camera tripod and sleeping bag, making a Red Indian like tent by day so I wouldn't have to leave the road in search of shade. I felt better immediately, now that I knew the digging wasn't the end of the world. Luckily, though, I never had to set off on a 70km hike with a few litres of water, an almost certain death in the desert.

I bled the tyres till they were dangerously low for maximum traction, and shoved stones in front of and behind the wheels. After four hours of digging and trying, the vehicle moved, like some giant beast heaving. I started the car in reverse because it has more torque than any other gear, got a few inches of freedom and then accelerated forward out of the dune, onto the semi-hard road of gravel and sand.

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