10am check-out time

I'd forgotten the joy of country town motels during the time I'd been working as a fulltime travel writer.

I'd spent many a night in them in years gone by, overnighting on long road trips all over Australia. They made a change from bunking on friends' couches, or camping out under the stars.

But my recent road trip to Byron Bay in northern NSW for the annual BluesFest reminded me that things haven't changed that much - once you get away from the big cities and the country five-star resorts and even boutique B and Bs.

The windscreen wipers worked hard against the splashing rain and I tried to keep my eyes prised open as my son's iPod played rock and roll. The close-up lights of huge trucks reflected in my rear window as they bore down on me even when I moved into the left lane, hoping they'd overtake.

Why hadn't my husband sorted out his Australian drivers' licence, I kept asking myself, remembering to keep to 60 or 80km in the road work areas on the lovely strip we call a national highway. And when would my son or even his friend be old enough to get their Ls? Why was I always the lone driver on these trips? And was I really going over 100km when the traffic cop beamed his radar at me?

We finally made it into Coffs Harbour where I'd booked a room in a motel.

As The Weight's lyrics say, I was "feelin' about half past dead" and I just needed a place where I could lay my head (after pulling into Nazareth). They'd kindly added a folding bed for my son's friend and all was well. I was even excited when I read the photocopied breakfast menu. Cardboard cereal and greasy eggs and bacon - yum.

But sick of takeaway food, crisps and Easter eggs, we headed across the highway to a local tavern for dinner. As we waited and waited for our meals and the kids finished their pink lemonades, I enjoyed some people watching.

A forlorn-looking wedding table covered in pink and white balloons was empty except for one kissing couple as the rest of the wedding couple smoked outside or danced to disco music.

Back to the motel room. After a fitful night's sleep I was woken by the sound of a father yelling at his children below our window. (Hadn't I left Sydney to get away from noisy neighbours?)

But the shower was hot and strong. Just as I was enjoying it and my hair was full of shampoo though I was interrupted by a loud banging on the motel room door.

"Ten am check-out time," an even louder voice proclaimed.

It was 10am on the dot but we hurriedly dressed and packed. I didn't want them to add another night to my credit card bill.

As we left, I smiled at the male cleaner who had so politely informed us it was time to leave. But he didn't smile back.

And up the highway we headed.