Car(e)full
Took the bus to work on Friday. Enjoyed reading a book for a change. Oh, how I wish the bus timetable worked in my favour! Instead I had no choice but to get to work half an hour late.
After work my friend Sherbert dropped me off at my car and a fun three hour period of waiting ensued. I called the AA, who came and tried to get my tyre off by hammering a metal grip around the security bolt. It didn't work. The recovery vehicle was called out and the sky gradually grew darker as I waited.
I read the rest of my book (Is It Just Me Or Is Everything Shit) while the recovery vehicle was on its way, using its sophisticated satellite navigation system to home in on me. I got a call from the driver just a mile away to tell me he was nearly there, then he started complaining that the road was very narrow. I found this remark puzzling. The last thing I heard was a startled squawk as he evidently met an unfortunate car coming the other way down the lane.
An hour later, no sign of the man. My phone battery was running very low, I had finished the book. He rang me again to tell me that he was really stuck coming down a tiny lane. None of this made any sense, as I was not that far from the A46.
I will save you the wait... Just before my phone died, I discovered that his satellite navigation device had faithfully guided him to Butterrow Lane, but I was parked off Butterrow West! I sent him a text message to tell him the road name and to look out for the 'Prince Albert' pub, which was nearby. I then went to Mike's house, who had rung earlier to find out if I was OK and had generously offered me a lift if I needed it. He lent me his landline to ring the AA man up, who had just at that moment arrived at the Prince Albert! I left my mobile phone with Mike to charge while I sprinted up to meet the man.
George was a lovely chap from Birmingham. He actually bowed in greeting when I arrived, puffing and panting! We drove to my car and he told me I had to drive it out onto the road because the incline of the community hall's driveway was too steep. There seemed to be a party going on at the hall and lots of young people were being dropped off by their parents. I didn't dare hazard a guess at their ages, especially as some of the girls were quite provocatively dressed and I rather enjoyed looking at them as they walked past. George proceeded to secure my car onto the truck as I gawped. Mike drove up shortly after and saw that everything was on track, so he went and fetched my phone.
Now, technically George was only obliged to drive me to the nearest garage, but he very kindly drove me all the way back to Cheltenham. We had a nice chat on the way. I found out that he used to be a truck driver, but all the jobs were being taken by Poles. He had only recently become an AA recovery vehicle driver, but he liked the challenge. Every situation was different. Butterrow Lane had turned out to be the very worst lane he could possibly drive down with his oversized vehicle. He swore he would not forget that experience quickly.
At one point I mentioned that I had not eaten since 12:00.
"My wife's good to me," he said as we approached the bus station/roundabout combination in Stroud, then he began rummaging around by the seat, looking for something. He couldn't find it and navigate the roundabout, so he asked me to find his lunchbox. In it was a packet of cookies. "Have a few of them," he said. I was so grateful as I munched on a Maryland chocolate chip cookie.
He dropped my car off at the Baylis garage in Cheltenham and insisted on driving me to my house, but eventually I convinced him that it was better for both of us if he dropped me off at the Tesco, on the way out of Cheltenham. Such a lovely guy! I shook his hand and wished him a safe journey back to Birmingham, then went to Tesco to get myself something to eat.
After work my friend Sherbert dropped me off at my car and a fun three hour period of waiting ensued. I called the AA, who came and tried to get my tyre off by hammering a metal grip around the security bolt. It didn't work. The recovery vehicle was called out and the sky gradually grew darker as I waited.
I read the rest of my book (Is It Just Me Or Is Everything Shit) while the recovery vehicle was on its way, using its sophisticated satellite navigation system to home in on me. I got a call from the driver just a mile away to tell me he was nearly there, then he started complaining that the road was very narrow. I found this remark puzzling. The last thing I heard was a startled squawk as he evidently met an unfortunate car coming the other way down the lane.
An hour later, no sign of the man. My phone battery was running very low, I had finished the book. He rang me again to tell me that he was really stuck coming down a tiny lane. None of this made any sense, as I was not that far from the A46.
I will save you the wait... Just before my phone died, I discovered that his satellite navigation device had faithfully guided him to Butterrow Lane, but I was parked off Butterrow West! I sent him a text message to tell him the road name and to look out for the 'Prince Albert' pub, which was nearby. I then went to Mike's house, who had rung earlier to find out if I was OK and had generously offered me a lift if I needed it. He lent me his landline to ring the AA man up, who had just at that moment arrived at the Prince Albert! I left my mobile phone with Mike to charge while I sprinted up to meet the man.
George was a lovely chap from Birmingham. He actually bowed in greeting when I arrived, puffing and panting! We drove to my car and he told me I had to drive it out onto the road because the incline of the community hall's driveway was too steep. There seemed to be a party going on at the hall and lots of young people were being dropped off by their parents. I didn't dare hazard a guess at their ages, especially as some of the girls were quite provocatively dressed and I rather enjoyed looking at them as they walked past. George proceeded to secure my car onto the truck as I gawped. Mike drove up shortly after and saw that everything was on track, so he went and fetched my phone.
Now, technically George was only obliged to drive me to the nearest garage, but he very kindly drove me all the way back to Cheltenham. We had a nice chat on the way. I found out that he used to be a truck driver, but all the jobs were being taken by Poles. He had only recently become an AA recovery vehicle driver, but he liked the challenge. Every situation was different. Butterrow Lane had turned out to be the very worst lane he could possibly drive down with his oversized vehicle. He swore he would not forget that experience quickly.
At one point I mentioned that I had not eaten since 12:00.
"My wife's good to me," he said as we approached the bus station/roundabout combination in Stroud, then he began rummaging around by the seat, looking for something. He couldn't find it and navigate the roundabout, so he asked me to find his lunchbox. In it was a packet of cookies. "Have a few of them," he said. I was so grateful as I munched on a Maryland chocolate chip cookie.
He dropped my car off at the Baylis garage in Cheltenham and insisted on driving me to my house, but eventually I convinced him that it was better for both of us if he dropped me off at the Tesco, on the way out of Cheltenham. Such a lovely guy! I shook his hand and wished him a safe journey back to Birmingham, then went to Tesco to get myself something to eat.