The radio counted down all of the hits from 1979. Another One Bites the Dust – one of my favourites – and I picked up a stone, flat and smooth and perfectly oval, and skipped it into the middle of the lake. I was dancing now, singing along (machine guns ready to go), firing off pebbles in rapid succession. I glanced up the dirt road to the top of the hill and saw a dust cloud travelling down the switchbacks. Another minute or two and he’d be here.