There's a draft in my wallet . . .
It's 7:30pm as I write this and I've just arrived home. I left work at 4pm to go to a job interview, started my 1992 Honda Accord, the engine turned over but would not catch. In fact, it kept kerchunk kerchunk kerchunking even after I removed the key from the ignition.
So like any self-respecting auto owner, I opened the bonnet, looked studiously at the kerchunking interior and a sluggish drive belt and watched as the engine kept ticking over but still not starting. I rang the agency who had arranged the interview to find just one bar on my mobile phone so had to make it fast
Well eventually something went 'poof' and after wafting a little grey puff of smoke the car died.
Now this in itself isn't anything more than a costly disappointment but this morning I also drove Clare to work so she's stranded without a lift and off the bus route. My NRMA roadside assistance hasn't been renewed and I have one bar on my phone. So, call roadside assistance and pay $140 for a new annual membership, get the little man in the blue van on his way somewhere between 20 and 60 minutes. Message Clare to get a cab and meet me outside the Crowne Plaza but she hasn't got her wallet with her so I have to wait to pay the taxi driver $25 with my credit card.
Finally the little blue van guy arrives and tells me my starter motor is farked, better than I thought but he can't repair it because they don't carry ancient Honda parts. He seems surprised that there's actually a starter motor in a car so old and thought it might be one of those Flintstone jobs where you just peddle through a hole in the floor. Now that would be a bit drafty.
So, we resolve to leave the car on the roof and organise a tow tomorrow. Although the tow truck is too big to get up to the rooftop carpark so we'll have to 'push' the car down to it and Adam isn't confident that the handbrake is strong enough to slow it down the ramps!
By now I have nice blue perspiration stains under my arms, grubby grey marks on my pristine blue and white striped shirt and a glistening top lip. My heart is racing and my wallet looking decidedly drafty.
I go to the nice man in the carpark payment booth and explain that I have to leave my car overnight but am happy to pay for the full day parking and even for tomorrow's but don't want to cop an overnight parking fee. He doesn't have the 'authority' to wave the fee so gives me the number of Don and Pete who I have to call in the morning and beg to wave the $40 charge. I don't fancy my chances somehow!
We walk by the river towards the 601 bus as the bats move in for the night but due to the drafty wallet and the absence of bus fare, I need an ATM. No worries, in goes the card . . ."ATM Temporarily Unavailable".
I'm really getting the shits now. Clare's all "Mum this happens all the time when you're travelling, chillax!" Yeh but when you're being fucked over in a beautiful city it's different. This is bloody Parramatta. My car's dead, I've forked out $185 buckaroos, the ATM isn't working and I haven't got any bus fare! Thank goodness for the nice man in the 7/11 who gives me $50 if I buy a bottle of water . . .onto the smelly old 601 and fortunately Adam is there to pick us up in Clare's care which is . . .unregistered! Oh yes, that was the plan . .register the car tomorrow.
So, three hours later, I'm home, tired, hungry, broke and only half the problem solved. Beans on toast for tea . . I kid you not.
Ah look on the bright side, the engine didn't blow up. The car will be towed and fixed and I only have to catch the smelly 601 two more times! Ah yes and it's a long weekend coming up!
. . . and I thought I'd have nothing to post for Theme Thursday . . the topic being Draft!