I assumed from the poem that Gundagai was meant to be where you got to once you'd gone a bit further past the back of beyond, but that's probably no longer the case.
I passed through it on the way from Canberra to Wagga-Wagga, so, no, on main road and not really remote. It just struck me, possibly wrongly, as one of those places that not many people have been.
Re five, I was hurled off the sidewalk and directly into the street (and the oncoming traffic, which did veer, or I wouldn't be typing this!) while on the Left Bank in Paris, by I guess a student radical who loathed Americans, judging from the abuse he shouted at me for merely existing.
The stench of his sweat stayed on my clothes that entire day.
I don't think the motivation of the rider of the moped in my case was any more sinister or malicious than either a) determination to deliver a pizza in extra-fast time or b) being too stoned to be in charge of a vehicle.
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Where was your necrophilia article published?!
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The stench of his sweat stayed on my clothes that entire day.
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::genuflects::
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