Obviously it used to be a cute little village, this Hermanus.
In the good old days they had the old harbour… Then the new harbour.
Plenty of frolicking whales, & shoot to kill.
NOW they've got us tourists AND a wonderful system of walking, talking, happy, smiling parking meters…
Imagine…
Paying for the parking time you think you need AND getting a "built-in" car guard with serious back-up.
I'd parallel parked Nyati into one & a half bays in the MIDDLE of town, much to the admiration of the meter maid, "Djaa nou DAR'S a fokken TROK I'm telling you. Check out those fokken horns ek se' ".
I LOVE these people. No inhibitions whatsoever. They speak their minds…
Usually VERY loudly.
Okay, so for a quick look inside Nyati, & a Peter Styversant filter, I qualified for discounted parking.
Spar was wonderful…
They had some.
My life had ebbed to an all time low…
I had no grapefruit in the fridge.
I thought it was all over.
"Ag nee the seasons finished… You won't find no more". The Pick n' Pay assistant had told me, gleefully.
So you know that wonderful feeling of discovery… liberation… School yard victory… Fuck YOU Man.
What the hell's happened to chivalry ?
Where's a bloody boy scout when you need one ?
Nobody helps senior citizens across the road anymore, not even if they're struggling with bags of grapefruit.
Nyati's a BITCH to load.
Do you KNOW how HIGH it is to lift ?
Finally, after chasing rolling citrus out of broken bags.
My time was UP… The "special" ticket had expired.
Okay okay… Relax meter Babe… I'm going… Scan the board… Numbers're good… Smile… Wave to the crowd of on-lookers.
Hit the starter button… Phlap… "this can't happen"… AGAIN… Phlap.. Phlap.
This just can't happen… Not to us.
Nyati's batteries could run a medium sized city.
The Babe's not happy… She's talking into the radio… Rolling the cavalry… They'll be here soon.
Okay, this's the "won't start" scenario I'd rehearsed in my mind so often.
What if ?
"What if, my arse. How're you going to get this 10 ton bitch started "?
I wondered where the Gypsy'd been lately.
Nyati was packing plenty of power, it was just a matter of figuring out how to use it.
First, do we really have a problem ?
While I was "bum up" searching for the jumper leads, before actually accepting that we were "in the shit again", there was an insistent banging at the passenger side door… VERY insistent.
"Eish, that's quick", I thought, & looked out, expecting something hard & heavy.
"Oh Jesus… Not now…
It was another of the "blue rinse brigade".
They're attracted to Nyati like moths to a flame.
"Hello", I said, trying to smile, lowering the stairs onto the pavement… Carefully… Imagine knocking the old girl over… Jesus, she's almost as old as me.
I thought I was looking at my Mom.
She was a beautiful lady, born into an age of integrity, trust & respect.
But ferocious in her intensity…
Just like my Mom.
I was reminded of the story of the old Lady who, when asked how she was, declared loudly… "Thank God I'm British, & on dry land"
"I like your big van", she said, coyly.
"Oh God"
"Do you have a problem starting up my dear" ?
"I know a wonderful Man. I'll call him if you want"
Finally, the jumpers… Thank God, Nyati started on the first kick…
Gypsy… "Getusoutofhere".
Before I knew it, a big old Merc swung in front of Nyati & a wrinkley arm flapped out…
Follow me…
Old style…
Just like that, we were off… to the auto shop… I hoped.
And that's how it was.
Mrs. Kearney, a wonderful old South African Lady, introduced me to Werner, her German auto electrician, & drove away.
So now I HAVE to ask…
How did this happen ?
Where did this Woman come from ?
She seemed to know we needed assistance BEFORE even I really knew the extent of the problem, myself… How ?
Angels ? Miracles ? Again ?
I 'phoned to thank Mrs. Kearney from Werner's workshop, she's a very gracious Old Lady.
It made me wish I'd had more time with mine, or that at least I'd told her I loved her.
I can't remember doing that.
