100ks Further Along

Here I am in Dubbo. Nice place, I can't wait to leave. Actually, it's yobbo central. The type of place that every second word the girls say is 'mate.' Not even pretty yobbos on the whole, either. Not that I'm looking much, good way to get a smack in the mouth. There are a couple I have spied though, strapping country lads with handsome faces, tanned and glowing and hot arses and packed jeans. Thick legs, open smiles.

The car wasn't so good when I went to pick it up, yesterday.

"Ah, don't know mate. Now the helle-pot, this jigger here is playin up," said Les. "It beats me, it was fine this morning."

"Oh," I say. Come on Les, don't let me down now. I'm sure my eyes were pleading.

"Ya best bet is drivin it to Dubbo to the Peugeot mechanic."

What????????????? "Oh, okay. So..." head starting to spin... "it's okay to drive?"

"Well, she's runnin on three cylinders." Les ran his hand through his greying beard. "But, I haven't got the part, don't know when I'd get it either."

"Oh." Fucking hell! "Well, sure, if that's my only option?"

"Yeah. Jeez. I reckon, mate. Sorry."

Les was great, don't get me wrong. Nice guy, helped me a lot.

"I tells ya, she must fly when she's running properly, cause she goes alright now, even on three cylinders."

"Yes, she does fly," I said. "How far is Dubbo?"

"Oh, about 100 ks."

What????????? "So, it'll be alright?"

"Yeah, that far," said Les. "And when you get back to Melbourne, you get all the oils replaced, that's what I'd recommend."

So, I drove the 100 ks on 3 cylinders and "she" - I've always thought of my car as male, if I thought about it at all - did go just fine. I don't know what that does to an engine, nothing, I hope.

I was a little stressed, I must say. At one point, it poured with rain and the road pooled with water again. After which, I smoked a cigarette for the first time ever in my car. I have to admit, I tossed the butt out the window. Head hung in shame. But, the place is fucken flooded!

Then the sun came out again and the sky turned bright blue with Simpson's clouds.

I was more stressed when I found out the alleged Peugeot mechanic is actually a Subaru Honda Jeep Hyundai Peugeot dealership. Fuck! I'd never take my car to a dealer and had a good out come. City Peugeot killed any confidence I had in them. Grrr! They don't care. Take a number. Yes, we can do it middle of next week, if the part gets here. Sorry, but I don't give a shit. The walls started to close in. Maybe, I was just tired. But, still 12 hours from home. It's now costing me more than if I'd bought the most expensive air ticket.

Why, oh why, did I drive through that flooded water????????????

So Dubbo. I decided to stay right in town. I found the 2 motels that Shane found on the internet in Melbourne for me, via mobile, just on the outskirts. But, I don't know, motels creep me out, just a bit. It's like staying in your own little cell removed from everyone else. A carpark the only thing in common. So, I decided that I was going to stay right in town, right in the heart of it. That's where you should stay, I reckon, if you are going to stay some where.

As I checked in to the Amaroo the nice check in girl said, "It's karaoke night tonight, I hope that won't disturb you."

"No." I laughed. "It's hardly likely to go until 3am, hey?"

"Actually, it does." She laughed.

The bars and lounges were full, full of twenty somethings, thirty somethings, mum dad and the kids, (there were a few hot eighteen year olds, let me tell you, with their mum and dads.) all pumped for a good time. People were in the main street drinking, and loitering and yahooing and doing burnouts all night. It had an air of King Street on a Saturday night. I was a bit surprised, the place was jumping.

I got the car to the mega dealership just after 8am. I pleaded to be my case. "I'm on my way back to Melbourne and I've got a sick Peugeot."

The service guy looked to, who was clearly, the manager who gave a subtle nod.

"If you just wait a minute, the manager will help you."

The manager listened to my case and asked for the keys and said to take a seat in the waiting room. Then he was in the car and it was around in the service centre in no time.

The manager was one of those well manicured, efficient types who clearly had the running of that mega cartropolis in the palm of his hand. He ran, he didn't walk.

Fifteen minutes he appeared in the waiting room.

Grimace. "How long were you planing to stay in Dubbo?"

"I wasn't planing to stay here at all."

"Oh, um, well, I don't have the part for you car," he said. Sad look. "But," smile "I could have it here at 8am in the morning and we could get you back on the road as soon as we can after that."

Now, I must have been a little more stressed than I realised, because it took every gram of energy I had not to burst into tears right there in front of him. I so didn't want to do that in a country town.

I'm allowed anyway, I'm a big poof.

I wanted to leap across the room and kiss him. "That's great! Thanks."

He beamed.

I left the car and took a ride in their curtesy bus back into Yobbo, um, er, Dubbo.

"Thank you very much," I said as I left. "You are just great."

He beamed again.