Elgan speaks
...and her words thunder across the land

��and then he ran into my knife! He ran into my knife�ten times!�

Thursday, May 11, 2006
8:09 p.m.
On Friday last, the day that Hubby and I drove to the ancestral home to attend the funeral of his mother�s sister�s second husband, hence his uncle, I had to attend to a couple of errands before our departure that necessitated a quick drive into town (it takes all of five minutes) to pick up an item at the health food store, go to the bank and spend some money at the pharmacy. Because my husband had taken the Subaru to the university, I was left with the Volvo, that now ancient car which looks so lovely in the photos of the blossoming Siberian apricot tree several pages back.

As I was driving over the railway tracks on Depot Street, I heard a sudden clunking noise as though part of the car had fallen to the ground and was being dragged. In fact, this is exactly what had happened. I parked in the lot behind the drugstore and noticed that the plastic engine cover had fallen down, looking an awful lot like the cow catcher on a steam locomotive, except that it was underneath the car instead of sticking out in front of it. I quickly did my jobs (I didn�t get to the bank for lack of time and because I lingered too long talking to the naturopath at the health food store about possible herbal remedies for my poor shoulder) and returned home with this scoop dragging and clunking, presenting a sheepish expression to pedestrians who marveled as I passed them.

It sat on the driveway in this decrepit condition while we were away, and on Monday Hubby crawled beneath the beast and determined that the plastic had slipped out of its brackets and had deteriorated to such an extent that the bolts could no longer hold it in place. He refitted it into the slots and actually drove it around, being very careful to slow down going over bumps, and had no more problems.

I, however, had to pick Buddy Boy up from school this afternoon as he stayed late for rugby practice and the only vehicle available to me was the Volvo, which I approached with a bit of trepidation, but thought to myself, �If Hubby can, so can I.� I was out of the driveway, onto the next street and going up the curve in the road when the bottom fell out. I pulled over to the curb, got out and investigated the situation, eventually crawling faceup underneath its belly and replacing the cover in the slots.

I got as far as the private school when I had to do it again, this time with a witness (do you know how embarrassing it is to present that posture in front of strangers?). The next time was at the main entrance to the university. It stayed where it was supposed to all the way to the highschool, speeding along the (smooth) highway past the (extraordinarily vile smelling) experimental farm, until I turned into the educational institution�s driveway, whereupon the road turned into a mass of potholes and the piece dropped again.

Buddy Boy watched rather bemused as I did my mechanic�s act, and the car behaved itself until just before the bridge crossing to our side of the river. A quick stop at the private school again, and then up the hill and home without further mishap. Let me see, for a 10-minute drive, I had to get on my back and ruin my fingernails a total of five times. My spanking clean clothes (why did I have to wear light colours today?) are dirty from our none too pristine public thoroughfares and my hands are parched from all the washings they needed to get off the grease.

The worst part was telling Hubby about it when he got home. Of course I was pissed, who could blame me, but he made matters worse by exclaiming, �I never had any problems at all! You must have gone over the bumps too quickly.� If there ever was an occasion for viricide, I do believe that would be it.


Do click back one if you haven�t read about my diarying dilemma.

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