Oh, Nearly There

Ah, bugger it!

I was making good time back from Lismore; straight down the New England Hwy, cut through from Tamworth to Dubbo, onto the Newell Hwy, easy peasy. It was a gorgeous day, Simpsons clouds over head, the sun shining crisply. I'd stopped at all the information booths just to check for road closures due to the flooding in NSW. No closures, no flooded roads, all clear. Of course, I'd need to continue to check along the way.

Off the highway and onto those country roads with no lines and little traffic, roads where I could push my foot harder down on the accelerator without too much worry of the red and blue lights appearing in my rear vision mirror. Actually, really lovely liquorice straps of roads winding their way across rolling green hills, where I could wind down the windows and feel the breeze in my hair, cool on my sweaty neck and sunburnt driver's arm. I was thinking that driving really was the smart option. But, I do like driving; the panorama of the country side wide vision.

And I was nearly through the roads that could potentially flood and back onto the highway, when, from over the distant hills, black clouds started to roll towards me.

Oh, please don't rain, I thought.

Then there were clouds rolling in from a second front, seemingly attaching themselves to the hills below them in a grey veil.

I was now driving between the two fronts, hoping and wishing. An hour to go to the safety of the highway. Crossing fingers.

The sun disappeared and the rain drops started to fall on my windscreen. Lightening sparked through the gray mass above me. Thunder rolled. the brightness of the day evaporated.

The road dips into culverts where the excess water is able to escape to the other side. It's kind of quaint, a throwback to a bygone era, I used to think. They had all been dry, thus far. Then I got to the first with a puddle forming across it.

Then a second flooding with an ankle deep stream. Okay, over that too.

The water started to pool on the sides of the road, the bitumen was slick and shiny.

Then, around another corner and a line of five, or so, cars waiting at a torrent crossing the road. It was calve deep and roaring down the hill. We waited it started to dissipate fairly quickly, down to car door sill height. They were measuring the movement with a piece of metal rested next to the edge of the water line.

There was the sporty blonde chick who never seemed to be off her mobile phone, who drove the pretend 4WD, but a 4WD none the less. The older couple returning home locally. She was nice, chatty, funny. There was the old couple in the Honda Jazz, which they towed over with the only real 4WD present. There was the thirty something couple with three kids. I really didn't mean to flirt with him, but the boyish face, the cute, cute eyes, the natural smile, I couldn't help it. He had a hairy chest showing at the top of his poloshirt buttons. He got it too, you know the kind who just take it as a compliment, secret men's business. He waved and smiled his little boy face at me, as he got into the car and drove away. And there was Andrew the other Peugeot driver.

The others decided that it was now safe to attempt a crossing. The sporty chick wizzed off in her white charger, first from about sixth in the queue. The next few went across successfully and then it was my turn. It looked like a mile wide as a lined up to go. And then I went. I was nervous, I hadn't done anything like that before. You have to take it slow, but in my anxiousness I went too fast and created a wash that engulfed me and my car died in the middle. Ahhh! No!

And then it wouldn't go. Wouldn't start. Wouldn't even turn over. (Which I found out later was the worst thing to do. Once they die, you should let them dry out, or get a mechanic)

So, that was about 5pm.

The last guy to cross after me, another Peugeot driver, offered me a life into the next town, which, of course, was 60 kilometres away.

He asked where I was from? He asked me what I did? He asked me what I do for leisure?

Then he asked if I was spiritual?

No, I'm an atheist.

Oh, that surprises me.

Oh why? I asked with trepidation.

Oh, I guess I'm the exact opposite to you?

Oh why? I knew I shouldn't have asked, but what else was there to say?

I'm a creationist.

This just keeps getting better, I thought.

So for the next 50 k's we talked about Jesus. I tried not to engage, but he quietly kept on. I stared out the window and wondered why Scotty wasn't beaming me up?

When we got to town he said, well I'll leave you here.

Yep, thanks and I leapt from the car quickly.

it was kind of him to give me a lift though, don't get me wrong.

Then it took until 11pm to organise the tow truck and head back out in his bumpy cabin, with his mate, to get the car. Nice guys, but oh, I was sooo over it in the end.

"Come over in the morning and we'll look at it then," they said as they wandered off into the dark.

At 9.30, they said it only needed a new air filter which would be in town by 2pm.

"So some time after two said the smiley lady on the mechanics counter."

I went around and got a book form the car. What else was I going to do?

The mechanic smiled. "What are those roads called OS, auto... auto something..."

"Bahns," I offered.

"Yep," said the mechanic. "That's where your car belongs, not in puddles." He smiled that laconic smile of the aussie bush. "Don't drive it through any water, at all, the damn air filters way down here, it'll just suck water up every time."

Apparently, you can ruin the engine big time, if the water is sucked up into the pistons. Who'd have thought.

He looked at the car a bit like he had looked at me... city car with a city driver. It was clear on his face.

And now I'm stuck in a lovely county town while they try to get my car going. Good thing, I have a nice country pub to stay in, with a wide veranda around two sides, with a cool breeze and a view of the pretty main street.

The latest report is that they have found another problem with the car.

And I started smoking again, yesterday. I didn't smoke all over New Year, partying, taking drugs, dancing at Tropical Fruits, coming down. Not one cigarette.

Have a little mechanical failure and it's straight for the Styvies.