The Breakdown

I know what you're thinking.  She's lived with the, not-knowing if she'd have a job or not for the past twelve months, will she be able to keep a roof over her head or will she be forced to move in with any sister that would have her?  That kind of pressure can tip a person over the edge.

Well, can I bank that breakdown?  Because I honestly think I deserve a mini meltdown after surviving that and making it to the other side and into a new and permanent job.  But I'm not actually talking about that type of breakdown today, I'm talking about flying down the motorway and losing power kind of breakdown. 

So I limp to my usual Saturday morning haunt on a wing and a prayer.  Text Jan; "U up? x"  I don't want to phone too early as not sure what time dear brother-in-law finished his AA shift yesterday... could have been early hours of this morning.  She doesn't text back straight away, it is of course Jan and so it could be days before she checks her phone, plus, I need to settle my stomach and find my legs again, they felt like jelly by the time I'd got to my destination.

Thirty minutes later, I have gathered myself, had a coffee, regained the use of my legs and I'm speaking to my brother-in-law.  "I think it's the spark plugs again, losing power, terrible noise, keep thinking I'll grind to a halt, I'll take the long, slow route home but head to yours."

One small bridge on the long route home or to Jan's, is closed and the new, temporary bridge will not let me turn right after I've travelled over it.  I follow the road to the left and quickly think, which is the shortest route from here?  I go right around the roundabout and do a left up a one way street, with speed bumps, up the hill, but it's all too much and my little silver car, which has brought me so far over the last eleven years... dies.

I have smoke and fumes emanating from under the bonnet.  Six inches in front of the car, is the final frontier, aka, the last speed bump... on this road at least, but it's just too much.  I can't even get it started and even if I could, I don't think I'd make it over the speed bump.  The end of this particular road and the top of this particular hill is about ten feet away.

I receive a text.  "Just checking you OK?  If you're struggling, STOP AND PHONE US."  I phone and proclaim, "it's just died."

I'm sitting, thankfully, tucked into the edge of the road and there is room for others to pass.   Despite sitting there, alone, with hazards on, with room... I get a few filthy looks as people have to drive around me and I'm desperate to challenge them, "if you can get it to start chick, then I'll move it." 

A white-van-man squeezes past and as he does, I mouth, "sorry!"  He smiles as he drives past and pulls in.  "Do you want me to guide you to the curb?"  He's sweet and I thank him for stopping but explain that I can't get it started and my brother -in-law is on his way.  Call me old fashioned but I love that chivalry is still on life support... just.

White-van-man leaves me to fend off drivers glares, alone.  Seems like forever but sister and brother-in-law arrive, just as the traffic policeman does.  Traffic police doesn't stop and I'm not sure if he's there because of me or if it's just a happy coincidence.  My brother-in-law is in the process of reversing, (rolling) back and tucking in by about a foot into the curb.  Traffic policeman drives by.

My brother-in-law lifts the bonnet and I scrutinise his face.  Jan drives me away leaving my dead car and brother-in-law, almost at the top of that hill.  I think I've just said goodbye to my independence. I can't afford a new car, a second hand car, I can't even afford repairs, even if it's repairable, which, judging by the smoke and the smell, I'm not sure that it is.

One step forward, six steps back.