Despite being warned by a cranky old garage owner to stay on the highway, know-it-all "Big Bob Carter" (Russ Grieve) decides to take his family on a dirt track so they can try to find an old silver mine. The road is barely designed for a donkey, much less a car towing a caravan and so into a ditch they go and their troubles begin. Initially, that is just the inconvenience but when one of their dogs heads off, chased by his son "Bobby" (Robert Houston - clad in the tiniest pair of shorts that still appeared perfectly adequate for modesty, though), we start to realise that there is danger all around them. Yep, they have strayed into the territory of a family of interbred hillbillies who are quite happy to terrorise the family. Should they stay in their van or try to escape? What about the baby they have with them? At least they still have one more dog! Can they survive? To be honest, a combination of hysterical screaming and some terrible acting (except from the dog) made this nigh-on unwatchable for me. The production - single camera with terrible editing and continuity - seemed to lurch from one badly framed shot to another and the fact that this family of urban drips developed some ruthless desert-ninja skills in a matter of moments - especially the hapless "Bobby" who at least put some jeans on - just contributed to a scare free story that left me bored. Nope, just not for me...