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A Good Story

‘Oh honey, look, a hitchhiker!’ Mia pointed out the window of my beat-up sedan. Sure enough, there he was, like he’d been drawn straight out of a Mark Twine novel: bedraggled hair, canvas pants, thumb sticking out.

I slowed the car down slightly, still a fair way from him on the straight road.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ I asked her, nervously.

‘Why not!’ she giggled. ‘It’ll be a great story!’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ I muttered. ‘That they’re gonna fly in news crews from across the country to tell our story.’

She playfully smacked me on the arm and rolled down her window, calling out to the man to get into the back seat with her.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he beamed once he’d gotten in. ‘I didn’t think anyone would stop.’

‘Just happy to help,’ I grimaced, shifting the car into drive again.

Something went bang, the radio flipped out and the engine cut off.

‘Dammit,’ I swore, twisting the key. Nothing.

‘Something wrong with your car?’ the hitchhiker asked, innocently enough. I softened my glare slightly and looked back at him.

‘Yeah, something’s wrong with it.’

‘You want me to have a look?’ he asked. ‘I used to hang out near a car mechanic around the Bentleigh area for a few years.’

‘Uh…’ I shot Mia a look, and she shrugged. ‘Sure. Sure, why not.’

He grinned and hopped out, while I popped the hood.

‘Is this a good idea?’ she asked me.

‘He’s your hitchhiker,’ I shrugged, and she frowned at me.

‘I think it’s electrical, actually,’ came his voice from the front of the car.

‘Can you fix it?’ I called back.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Let me call a buddy, he did all of the auto-elec stuff for me if I needed him to. Shouldn’t be too much to ask of an auto electrical mechanic around Bentleigh , at least.’

‘Right,’ I frowned.

A car appeared in my rear-view mirror, and I gestured for Mia to look.

‘Oh cool, here’s my friend now!’ the hitchhiker waved at the car.

‘That was quick,’ I sighed to Mia. She frowned again.

‘We’re gonna be on the news, aren’t we?’

‘Yes. Yes we are.’

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The Travelling Bathrooms

Travelling is an underrated activity. It gets a lot of hype online and in certain social circles, but it seems like most of the population doesn’t truly appreciate it. I do understand why — travel can be exhausting and expensive. However, I really believe that if you do have the available funds, you should try travelling at least once in your life. There is simply so much of the world out there to see!

Although I love to hype travel up, I do have to acknowledge that there can be several downsides. These often differ from person to person, but to illustrate the idea, I’m going to tell you a story from when I travelled to Melbourne. This memory has me wishing that I could haul a group of bathroom designers into the same room, sit them down, and teach them a thing or two about how to actually design a bathroom. And this is coming from somebody who has never built anything in their life.

The thing about public bathrooms is that they are often not built for luxury. Utility is the main factor behind their design choices, which means that although things like mirrors and hand dryers are brilliant to have, these are usually an afterthought when compared to things like basins, taps, and the toilets themselves. Even things like space can sometimes come second to cramming as many stalls in there as they can, which can be annoying for people who need accessibility.

If I had to go around the world and make a list of all the best bathroom renovations, Melbourne would not be anywhere near the top. I’ve seen some pretty luxurious ones in Europe. Although, any train station bathroom is sure to be the worst. When you’re travelling, try and stick to your hotel’s bathroom. If that’s not possible and you really need a shower, plan to find the closest gym. Or, for a simple day out, stop off at a restaurant, as those tend to be the cleanest.

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A Friendly Inspection

Pre purchase inspection‘Oh yeah,’ the woman cracked her back, stepping back from the bonnet of my car. ‘Yeah, that’s never gonna run again.’

         ‘What?’ I cried out. ‘What do you mean?’

         ‘It’s your fuel injector,’ she grunted, adjusting the waistline of her pants. ‘It’s gone.’

         ‘Can you fix it?’

         ‘Naw, it’s literally gone,’ she said. ‘I’m tipping you left it behind on the I-90-wherever-you-came-from.’

         ‘So… what?’ I asked, panicked. ‘My car is just… dead?’

         ‘Pretty much,’ she nodded. ‘Well, have a good one.’

         She started to walk back to her truck, stopping to pick up her untouched toolbox.

         ‘What am I supposed to do?’ I called after her.

         ‘I’d start with gettin’ a new car honey,’ she cackled, climbing up into the cabin.

         ‘Very funny,’ I muttered to myself, grabbing the top of my head as I tried desperately to think of my next move. I heard a sigh from behind me, and turned back around to the truck. The lady was hanging out of the door, shaking her head.

         ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’ve been doing these professional vehicle inspections for some time now and you seem like a nice person.’

         ‘Thanks,’ I said, dryly.

         ‘So I’m gonna give you a number you can call,’ she continued, scribbling it down on what looked like the cardboard from a pack of beer. ‘He’ll help you out.’

         ‘Is that an affordable mechanic near Queanbeyan?’ I asked, hopeful.

         ‘What? No, I told you, that car ain’t never gonna run again sweetie.’

         I bit my tongue and tasted blood.

         ‘What is it then?’ I mouthed carefully, accepting the cardboard scrap from her.

         ‘That there is the phone number of my brother. He’s real careful about it, so don’t go givin’ it out to all of your gal pals, you hear?’

         She turned back to the truck and climbed back inside.

         ‘Your brother?’ I frowned, confused. ‘Will he be able to get me the part I need?’

         She shrugged. ‘Maybe. You should ask him about it over dinner.’

         ‘Over…?’ my frown deepened. ‘What?’