Tonight we sat on the front verandah and had a beer and a chip. We deserved it. This morning we lolled around wondering how we’d possibly fill in the entire day, which, incidentally had begun at 4:35am when Bede decided he’d had enough sleep. The decision was quickly made for us because we had a flat tyre. Or wheel. Or a puncture. Or something like that. By the time we discovered the flat round thing, mum had already set off on foot with the boys in the pram and was going to meet us in town for breakfast so we carried on with those plans. Shane provide excellent entertainment for the boys, and possibly quite a few passers by, as he changed the tyre/wheel outside the café.
As I watched him, I was reminded of the time the same thing happened to us on the first day of our New Zealand holiday. Mere hours after collecting our hire car and embarking on dad’s very ambitious, heavily scheduled and timed itinerary we got a flat. I couldn’t help but think it was a bit easier this time because it wasn’t a torrential downpour. Shane agreed.
After gorging on smashed avocado (which, by the way, I’m pretty sure I invented but that’s another story or another day) we had to zip it to Mt Gambier (a lazy 127kms away) to sort it out. Except we can’t really zip anywhere these days – by the time the boys and their gear are loaded into the car and Shane sets up the ‘seventh seat’ (it’s legal and a legitimate third row of seats but quite a squeeze for an adult, especially when wedged between the pram and the nappy bag on a bumpy road) and have a top speed of 80 on a spacesaver tyre, we meandered into Mt Gambier.
We found the ‘tyre joint’ and I pulled in. Have I told you before how I do most of the driving? It’s a little bit because I’m a better driver, a little bit because I’m a control freak and a fair bit because there’s no way I’m climbing into the third row of seats. Mum has offered to but her skills in singing, pointing out tractors and farm animals and handing back organic, gluten free vegan snacks to the boys are too valuable. I think she may have put her neck out in the course of her duties, but she’s soldiering on. Anyway, the only way in and out of the third row is via the boot. I sometimes arrive at a destination and wonder why Shane isn’t getting out and getting organized – especially when there’s a man he needs to talk about man stuff like cars and wheels and tyres. Then I remember that I need to let him out. As I was doing so, the man came to the back of the car just as Shane was beginning his gymnastics to get out and we both, the man and I, roared with laughter at the hilarity of it. But at least the man had the good sense to remove the offending tyre/wheel (I can’t get a straight answer about which part is actually compromised)which apparently made it easier.
A few years ago Shane and I were tripping around in our beloved kombi Blanche and stopped in Mt Gambier for supplies and I found a ripper bookshop – I sat up all night reading and drinking red wine – you know, the kind of thing you do when you have not a care in the world. Today I went and stocked up on books again but am yet to open a single one. I ate a peanut butter and jam ice cream donut sandwich for lunch – so I guess that was pretty irresponsible and careless. But also bloody delicious. I decided to continue the theme by eating pizza and drinking red wine for dinner.
Now, what to do tomorrow…