Category: Cars

I’ve taken the whole day off tomorrow to take my car to the mechanic. I told my boss that it’s going to be a really long day with the mechanic and that he’ll likely need me there the whole time. Initially, he asked why I’d have to be on-site seeing as I have absolutely no qualifications in mechanics or cars or anything, but I spun a really convincing lie about how my car is really specialised and mechanics aren’t allowed to make any sort of changes or repairs to it without my consent. My boss believed me which was really lucky and the mechanic said he would back up my story if my boss called. This may as well be considered as if it’s a doctor’s certificate, but instead, it’s by the auto electrician operating in Cambridge, rather than an actual doctor. I guess mechanics are doctors for cars, so maybe that counts? 

Anyway, I’m very excited to have the day off tomorrow. I’m going to sleep in, drive five minutes to the mechanic and then go out for coffee with a girl I’ve been crushing on for a long time. She works shift work so it’s really hard for us to catch up (I work full time), so being able to have this day off to see her is really exciting. I’d also like to give a special thanks to my car for being a piece of rubbish and needing a suspension service. I couldn’t have gotten this day off without it!

Every so often I like to squeeze as much time off as possible out of the man. What does that mean? It means faking sick and taking a day off. It means telling my boss I need a whole day off for a car service. It means starting work three minutes late and finishing three minutes early. It means more free time for me and less money in the pocket of the man.

I’ve always been obsessed with chocolate. When I was travelling in Europe last year, I got the chance to try some really decadent and delicious chocolate, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It was from this adorably quaint little store on the corner of a major shopping strip in Belgium. I’ve been searching online to see if I can find the store and get some delivered to Australia, but it’s difficult when you can’t remember the name of the store and everything’s in another language, anyway.

Now, I’m living in Adelaide. I’ve got an apartment right next to a mechanic. Lockleys is a burgeoning suburb, but it’s definitely still more industrial at the moment. On one side is the mechanic, and the other is a massive warehouse that I’m pretty sure belongs to a company that packages food for grocery stores. I just can’t stop thinking about that chocolate. Where can I possibly find one that compares in Adelaide? I decided to give my friend a call, as she also lived overseas for a while and therefore understands my dilemma. She tells me that there is one chocolate store a few suburbs over, but that it’s not as good as it would have been in Belgium. Maybe I can try making my own chocolate?

I get ready to go out and start walking down the street, past the warehouse, and past the mobile auto electrical services store just down the road. A quick online search shows that I already have most of the equipment I need to make my own chocolate. Now, all I need is the ingredients, especially cocoa beans. I’m going to roast them in the oven for a while. My mission to make chocolate could take a few days, but I’m not worried. I’m just excited to try my own chocolate. Hopefully, it tastes as good as the professionals in Belgium!

 

‘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.’

‘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?’