Chiffon #95. Hi Ho the Dairy Oh


Let me first set the scene. It is now the day after yesterday and this story begins before then.. I am a bit of the fluttered. It has been hectic where I have been. My girlfriend (bless her heart) has been angry and she does not know why. I fully suspect that like Raskalnikov, she has done something she can not tell me about, something she is obviously not proud of, something trivial, as trivial as just, say, spending all her money on the poker machines.

So there it is.The scene is set. I said to her, ‘there, there, petalhead, my little love rock, calm down’. To no avail. I proceeded to back out of there like a rabbit at a ferret convention. I tell you I thought this was all too much considering I had just had the water pump replaced on her (our) car. She complained because I did not use the same mechanic she used (ten years ago). So finally I am off to do her bidding.

The traffic was very slow as I left her town and I honestly breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the last vestige of civilisation disappear in the rear view and I opened the newly worked on V.R. up so as to notice the hum of the engine and the ease at which it took on the Hume Highway.

Alas it was a rather sudden and unexpected thing and it filled me with dread.¬† Oh no, an audible ‘o no’ except it sounded like an OHHHH KKNNNOOOOWWWWWWW! And the temperature gauge all hit the high spot. I did what every person does I cursed and I screamed and I cried ‘the injustice of it all’.

I nursed, rolled, pushed and drifted into a little place called Coolac and stopped outside the only store that was open. Rushing in I spoke to the shopkeeper and was told to wait my turn and allow him to deal with his other customer who was wandering around a shelf at the back of the shop. And still it goes on, the fucking injustice. I was having a well-earned crisis and I was experiencing justifiable anger and I was having to repress it. What an ask.

So this dude is standing there with his watering can like he is going at a row of dahlias and he starts telling me his opinion and using words like ‘cracked’ ‘head’ ‘new’ ‘engine’. I truly felt like a losing entry at the Chealsea Flower Show, so with my confidence, optimism¬† and enthusiasm in serious jeapardy, I continued on my way to yet another dog further on up the road and unlike this dog I had no intentions of residing five miles from Gundagai.

I filled up with the water from a fountain that they put there for the dog.

The next stop was my last. Two kilometres further on I could hear pinging from the gearbox and observed smoke and or steam ooze from under the bonnet. I pulled over and checked my preparedness to whether this storm.

Phone, yes.

Smokes, yes.

Lighter, yes.

Things were not as bad as I thought. It did not last. I had one smoke and the phone needed recharging. After an hour of walking around the car, opening a door, sitting and then getting out and sitting in another seat, I started snooping. Lo and behold in the centre console under a folded sheet of paper was a mix. Not a big mix, just a bit.

So I closed the car and I made to have a smoke. I had the bonnet up and I was watching the traffic in the rear view. I was huddled down in the driver’s seat striking the lighter and I could see the traffic under the gap created by the bonnet. I just got the the bowl lit when I noticed a highway patrol car (e.t.a. five seconds).

Now trying to exhale, hide things and wave them down all at the same time proved no easy feat but it’s possible They said they would be glad to call me a tow truck. Three hours later a tow truck pulled up. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. And the car is parked in a secure garage in one of those sleepy little hamlets that one day will probably become famous for an inbred population. I still only have myself to worry about so I am feeling decidedly unappreciated.



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