It’s so long down the track now that few remember his name, or how he fell from notice. I found him by the side of the road from Portsea, cold, wet and shivering, all he had on was a wetsuit with short legs and a hunted look that he tried to hide behind his eyes. I don’t pick up people on the road, mainly at truck stops and cafes. But he was just there, in the dark and cold with no bags or even warm clothes, a black wetsuit in the black of night. I might have passed him by,…