We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember "Dave Liquorice" saying something like:
Bloke in the neighbouring village had a snowplough attached to an old ex-Army Bedford. It lay in his yard all year, doing nothing, until a fall of snow, then he'd take it out to clear the road between the two villages. The villages lay each in different counties, so he'd bill one Council then the other for the same trip and return, respectively. Quids in, he was.