Category: Cars

‘So you’re just going to want to gently accelerate—’

         I was thrown back in my seat as my daughter hit the pedal with more force than I knew her teenage legs could produce.

         ‘Slow down!’ I screeched from the passenger seat. ‘Jessica!’

         She lifted her foot again, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

         Until she slammed it down on the brake pedal and I was thrown forward, bumping my head on the glovebox. In that moment, I decided who was going to be paying for my next brake repair.

         She turned to me, grinning, as we sat idling in the middle of the empty parking lot.

         ‘Driving is fun!’ she giggled, as I fished my glasses from underneath my seat.

         ‘Okay,’ I panted, as the slideshow of my life retreated back into my soul. ‘So that was an… interesting start.’

         ‘It’s so easy!’ she beamed. ‘Just two whole pedals?’

         ‘You’re not supposed to push them fully to the floor,’ I grumbled, ‘…dear.’

         ‘Oh?’ she frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

         I could only nod, trying to find my inner Zen through a breathing technique.

         ‘Alright,’ I said, through a deep breath. ‘We’re going to try that again. Now, this time—’

         ‘Sweet!’ she yelled, slamming her foot down again.

         ‘Jessica!’ I howled as we rocketed towards the speed of sound, already hearing what my mechanic was going to say next time I got my car service. Raceview mechanics don’t sugar coat these sorts of things. My hand reached for the handbrake, fighting against the G-forces.

         ‘Ooh, what does that do?’ Jessica asked, looking at what I was reaching for. She reached down with one hand and yanked the handbrake up, locking the tyres and sending the back of the car fishtailing around a bend in the car park.

         I almost blacked out as she drifted us around, making micro-corrections with the wheel and releasing the handbrake at the apex of the turn.

         ‘Woo-hoo!’ she cackled as she twisted the wheel, spinning the car to a stop. ‘Driving is so much fun! Thanks again, Dad!’

         I could only release a long, drawn out wheeze.

 

I’m having one of those ‘record scratch’ and ‘freeze frame’ moments. You know those ones in movies where the character’s like, “I bet you’re wondering how I ended up in this situation.” For me, that situation is in the middle of a random highway. Cars are streaming past me, and only a few of them have stopped to help in the ten or so minutes that I’ve been waiting here. I believe my car battery ran out, which then caused my car to stop. Obviously. 

The number one rule I’ve always heard is that when your car breaks down in the middle of a road, get out of it (only if you’re absolutely certain that it’s safe) and wait off to the side. So that’s what I’m doing, far away from the road. I called the best mechanic Underwood has to offer pretty much as soon as I heard the engine sputtering. I’m not the best with cars, but even I know when something is making a noise it shouldn’t otherwise make. I just feel bad for everybody else on the highway, since I seem to have caused a bit of a traffic jam by leaving my car in the middle of the road. I’m not sure what else to do, really. The mechanics were really helpful and said they would bring a tow truck and asked if there was anything else they could do to ensure I felt more comfortable on the ride back to their repair store.

I’m so glad I found these mechanics. The only thing I did was go to the search engine and look for a car battery replacement near me, and they just happened to be one of the first options. From my experience so far, they seem to be incredibly professional and have friendly employees, making them seem like  a very efficiently-run business. And very affordable, too. People keep honking the car, but I’ve put my hazard lights on so they should know that there’s something wrong with my car. The mechanics say it won’t take long to fix.

I listlessly strummed a chord on my guitar, then gave up with a sigh, resting my chin on the curve in its body.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ my mum asked, walking into my room with an armful of laundry.

‘Nothing,’ I sighed again. She rolled her eyes.

‘Is this about that stupid car again–’

‘Why haven’t they called yet?’ I interrupted. ‘They said it would only take a couple of hours.’

‘Yes… and they told us that an hour ago.’

‘Still,’ I frowned. ‘They could have finished early. Or it could have been hit by a truck in the street. Did you see how they just left it in the street?’

‘Honey,’ she sighed, sitting down next to me on the bed. ‘I get that your first car is a… special relationship. But it’s only a car service. Malvern East isn’t even that far away. You could probably get on the roof and watch them working on it from here!’

My eyes lit up, and hers hardened.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

I deflated a little.

‘What if I never see it again?’

She took a deep, soothing breath, and moved closer to me on the bed, grasping my hand.

‘I promise you’ll see your car again,’ she started. ‘The people we took it to are the best mechanics around. Malvern East is where everyone takes their cars. They’re that good.’

‘Really? Everyone brings their cars here?’

‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘everyone from Malvern East, sure.’

I frowned and she laughed at me, nudging me in the ribs until my glare cracked and I was grinning too.

‘Now,’ she said, jumping to her feet. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Better,’ I smiled up at her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘You’re welcome. Now get up and clean up this room, because if it isn’t spotless by the time they call I swear I’ll take a baseball bat to the stupid car myself.’

Hobart is a weird place to live. They weren’t joking when they told me that it feels like a (not even big) country town. It’s such a weird place. Nothing happens here. You could be in the middle of the Hobart CBD and think you’re in the middle of nowhere. It feels like remote Australia even though it’s only an hour plane trip from Melbourne. I probably shouldn’t have moved here from Melbourne on a whim but I was bored of my life because of the issue that’s been plaguing the world for the last three years. One day I woke up and I decided to just up and move and now I’m in Hobart. Do I regret the decision? Well, the short answer is yes. 

One of the first things I did when I moved to Hobart was search for a mechanic to do car repairs. Hobart is easy to get to if you have a car, because there’s a boat that takes people from Melbourne to Tasmania. You can put your car on it and then you don’t have to hire a car or buy a new one when you’re in Hobart. I thought I’d be able to drive my car for about a year in Tasmania before I’d need any repairs, but unfortunately it only lasted a week. That’s because Tasmania, and Hobart more specifically, actually has some really rough terrain. In fact, driving here has been really hard on my tyres. In Hobart, the roads aren’t as well sealed as they are in Melbourne, I guess because there aren’t that many people here who need roads, and it’s been really hard on my car. I am surprised at just how few people there are in Hobart. It’s very different to the hustle and bustle of the Melbourne CBD.

I think I’m going to move away from Hobart soon. Maybe I’ll go back to Victoria but move to somewhere more remote, so it’s the same but different. 

I sighed and lifted my hands up to the one-way mirror in front of my chair.

‘Are these really necessary?’ I asked, rattling the chains.

No response. I dropped them back onto the table with a clink.

The door burst open and two black-suited men in dark glasses strode into the room, each step perfectly in sync with one another. I raised an eyebrow.

‘Do you two practice that in your spare time?’

They ignored me. The taller one leant against the mirror, while the other one pulled up the chair on the other side of my table. He laid out a thick file, steepled his fingers and finally looked up at me.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’ he growled.

‘I’ve been yelling “why am I here?” at that mirror for the last four hours,’ I frowned. ‘What do you think?’

‘You’re here because we heard a… a rumour.’

The man at the window cracked his neck.

‘What rumour?’ I asked, getting nervous.

‘A rumour that you know the best, most affordable mechanic around Ringwood,’ the man across from me whispered.

‘What?’

The tall man flew across the room, slamming his fist on the table. ‘Tell us!’

‘What are you talking about?!’ I cried out, pulling myself as far back as I could from the lunatics while I was still chained up.

‘Our records show you recently had a log book servicing from a Ringwood mechanic,’ the shorter one whispered. ‘We want a name.’

‘I–I don’t rememb–’

‘You’re lying!’ the tall one shouted, looking like he was about to throw himself across the table. His partner held him back with a patient hand.

‘You’re only making this worse,’ he shook his head at me. With a sigh, he got to his feet, sweeping up the file. ‘Perhaps a few more hours in here will jog your memory.’

And just like that they were gone, leaving me alone with my reflection and a flickering bulb.

‘They changed my tyres too!’ I called after them, huffily.

‘Seriously?’ I groaned as I opened my car door and was hit with an expulsion of hot air. ‘God I hate summer.’

I delicately placed my shopping on the backseat – heavy on the bottom, fragiles on top – and slammed the door shut. I opened the driver’s side, making the immediate mistake of touching my steering wheel.

‘Ouch!’ I hissed, ripping my skin away from the burning wheel. I quickly jammed my key into the ignition, punching the air conditioning to as high as it would go.

Another blast of heat hit me, from all of the vents I’d meticulously balanced to deliver the air at my face and hands.

Eyeballs dry, I desperately squinted at the controls to see which dial I’d flicked the wrong way, but they all seemed right. With a cry of defeat, I flicked the air conditioning off and, with a deep sigh, rested my head on the steering wheel.

Burning!

I squealed again pulling my rapidly-reddening face back from the wheel, desperately rubbing it to dissipate the intense heat. At this rate, I was going to have to pay for a car air conditioning service and emergency plastic surgery, and I didn’t have the budget for either.

I glanced back at the bag containing my ice cream and sighed. I guess I didn’t have a choice – I had to get home, and quickly.

I slammed my feet down on the brake and the clutch, whipped the handbrake down and shunted the transmission from neutral to first, ignoring how hot the gear stick was.

Something crunched as my car staggered into first. Frowning, I nervously navigated the parking lot, then reached the open road and brought it up into second.

Crunch.

My car groaned underneath me as I shifted gears, fighting me at every change.

‘Oh god,’ I muttered to myself, ‘Now I have to find an affordable mechanic that does transmission services around Morayfield.’

Eventually, I limped onto my street, sweat dripping down my brow. I threw the car into park and collapsed back in my seat.

I don’t really know much about cars. It’s not a point of pride at all, in the same way certain people happily boast that they are ignorant about certain topics. For me, not knowing how such an everyday machine works is actually pretty embarrassing, but where would I learn? Nobody ever taught me, and even the internet is limited on information. Not to mention, I don’t have access to any of the tools and equipment needed to fix cars, nor do I want to buy it. So it seems like I’m at a bit of a stalemate with my knowledge gap.

I think I’m going to visit one of the mechanic stores Bentleigh has scattered throughout its suburb and ask them to give me a quick introduction to the basics of cars. Do you think they would do that for me? I could offer to pay them, since it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. I just want to know simple things, like what all the parts and components of cars are, where they are, and what to do with them. Things like the engine and the transmission fluid, because at the moment I wouldn’t even know where to access them.

Can I open the hood of my car? How do I open it? I feel as though I would instantly break my car if I tried to pry open the hood. Maybe I can receive some advice from the best car servicing Bentleigh has to offer. If I take my car into their shop for a scheduled logbook service, I’m sure I’ll be able to sneak in a few questions about how cars function. It won’t even look strange, either. It’ll just look like I’m a curious customer who is eager to get the best deal. The mechanics should answer me in the name of transparency. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for their credit card number; I literally just want to know where the transmission fluid is in my own car.

‘Do you ever feel…’ I whispered, staring out the window. ‘Do you ever feel like you’re just going round and round in circles? Like you’re just writing the same thing over and over again? And that one day, you’re just going to–’

         ‘What was that Pete?’

         ‘Sorry,’ I chuckled, turning to look at my sister as she drove. ‘I was just wondering when was the last time you got your car looked at?’

         ‘Like, serviced?’ she frowned.

         ‘No, I mean, when was the last time another human being looked at your car. It’s filthy!’

         Eyes still on the road, she leant over and flicked me on the ear. Deadly accurate, even after all these years. Laughing, I reached over to turn on the aircon.

         Nothing happened.

I frowned and scanned the climate control buttons to see if there was something I’d missed. It all looked fine, like I was supposed to be being blasted with cold air right now.

‘What is it?’ my sister asked.

‘I think you might need to get it serviced after all. Your AC isn’t working.’

‘What?’ she frowned, looking down at the buttons I’d pressed.

‘Maybe your car needs an aircon regas or something,’ I suggested.

‘I’ll give you fifty dollars, cash, if you can tell me what an aircon regas is,’ my sister rolled her eyes. ‘Go!’

‘I read it on a pamphlet once,’ I frowned. ‘You’re the one who drives, you should know all this stuff!’

‘I do what I’m supposed to!’ she protested. ‘I look after this car pretty well, thank you very much.’

‘Then why am I boiling over here right now?’

She flicked me again.

‘I guess I need to find a decent mechanic close to Moorabbin,’ she murmured to herself, as I rubbed my smarting ear.

‘You don’t even have a mechanic yet?!’

‘We’ve only been here…’ she frowned and started mouthing numbers as she counted in her head.

‘Five,’ I interrupted. ‘The number you’re looking for, of the years that we’ve lived here, is five.’           

She flicked me again.

‘Stop doing that!’

It’s a lovely sunny day today, so I’ve decided to run errands. There are a lot of things that I have to do, since I’ve been putting my list off due to the colder weather. First of all, I have to vacuum my entire house and clean the cabinets with this special lemon-scented spray I bought last week. Then, I have to go to the post office to pick up some mail that was delivered when I was at work. Finally, I have to find a mechanic that offers a car logbook service. Northcote has a number of these around, but since my car is new, I would like to ensure it stays under its warranty.

Some mechanics offer this special type of service that follows the manufacturer’s guidelines, meaning that the car can be serviced to a really high quality and also maintain its warranty. At least, that’s what my best friend told me. I’m not super knowledgeable about cars, since this is my first car. I’m assuming that the service is going to involve a number of basic checks on the important components of my car, such as the engine, the windscreen wipers, the lights, the transmission fluid, and other auto electrical things, too. It might even involve a tyre service. I’m not sure how often tyres need to be changed, but I’ve only had my car for about six months. I guess I’ll just ask the mechanic when I see them.

The errand I’m most excited for is picking up my packages. Last week, I ordered half a dozen clothes, including this lovely, deep blue dress that is almost longer than my entire body. I’m going to wear it to my cousin’s wedding next month. Along with two of my other cousins, I’m a bridesmaid. It’s in the country and is going to be a long drive, which is why I want to get my car serviced as soon as possible.

‘Well this is unusual,’ Hawley buzzed over my intercom.

         ‘You’re telling me!’ I buzzed back, laughing. ‘Are you ready?’

         ‘I guess,’ he replied. Even over the scrappy comms system, I could tell he was nervous.

         ‘You’ll be fine,’ I soothed him, turning so he could see my face under the visor. ‘This is just a routine wheel replacement.’

         ‘There’s nothing routine about it!’ he said. ‘This has never been done before.’

         ‘Well then,’ I grinned, reaching for the airlock lever. ‘Let’s go make history.’

         The silence was eerie as we floated around the ship, hugging the metal as we made our way to the underside. I radioed to the flight team that we were ready, and they dropped the shuttle’s landing gear for us to inspect.

         ‘Oh yeah, that’s a nasty blowout,’ I whistled. ‘Definitely no landing on that.’

         ‘What’s the plan, boss?’

         I quickly scanned the terrain and the damaged wheel and told Hawley to follow close behind me. We clipped ourselves to just underneath the landing gear, so we could easily reach everything we’d need. I pulled out my knife and quickly cut away the damaged tyre.

         ‘Where did you learn how to change a tyre?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow.

         ‘I used to spend time with the mechanic near Toowoomba,’ I said with a laugh. ‘That trick is all me though. Do you have the spare?’

         He pulled it off his back where it had been mounted and passed it to me.

         ‘Alright,’ I murmured. ‘How do you want to go on?’

         ‘I wish I’d spent more time taking shop at school,’ Hawley muttered.

         ‘You’re a fighter pilot who doesn’t know how to change a tyre?’

         ‘The thing about changing tyres, in my experience,’ he explained, ‘is that if I looked hard enough, I always managed to find a professional tyre fitting in my area.’

         ‘How’s that working out now?’ I asked, slipping the new tyre onto the wheel.

         ‘You’re the one doing it, aren’t you?’

         I laughed and gave the tyre a final punch to make sure it was seated right.

         ‘Looks like we’re good to land,’ I said, flashing Hawley a thumbs-up.