I wanted a few things – there was some cheap steak advertised in the supermarket – and I had needed to go to the bank as I had a letter in the post informing me that my cheque book could be picked up in eight days time from my home branch in Ensors. I had only opened the account last Tuesday in Turat, so why should I go to Ensors? It is typical of France. The simplest things take forever and always require a return visit to sort them out. It had taken an hour-and-a-half to open the account – wrongly!
It was bucketing down and the car would not start. A 1985 2CV does not like the cold nor the wet. I eventually tried it on the starting handle and it immediately kicked into life. I wondered about the wisdom of going into town in the circumstances but reasoned I'd only be annoyed if I didn't, so I set off.
There was a car show in town so no place to park near the bank, so I continued to E. Leclerc. After purchasing my shopping (£8 worth of steak at £3 per kilo!) I got back to the car and turned the key in the ignition.
“Phutt!”
The battery was dead.
I looked around for likely suspects and accosted a man of about thirty and asked for help. I told him the battery was dead but I could not remember the word for, “jump leads.” Anyway, he offered to give me a push which I thought futile and indeed so it turned out.
He was clearly not much interested in getting embroiled in my problems and so left me with advice to borrow some, “câbles” from somewhere. At least I got the word I was after.
I hurried across the car park in the pouring rain to a coach station, where I borrowed the most enormous jump leads that I have ever seen.
Waiting for help I spotted a woman loading shopping into a pick-up truck, so I approached her. As I began speaking, I noticed the car had English plates. What a stroke of luck!
I explained my situation and she rapidly agreed to help.
She drove over and opened the bonnet . I have never jump started a car myself before but after a couple of shocks I got it right and tried the 2CV.
We had power alright but it wasn't firing. I tried again on the handle but nothing. Clearly, the poor car was soaked through.
The woman offered, “Are you sure it's the battery? It doesn't sound like the battery.”
I said that it was and to myself thought, “Of course it's not the battery now – I'm using yours.”
It was no use so she offered to tow me home. As luck would have it she was not on holiday but also lived out here not far away.
I was delighted but we had no rope. I took the jump leads back but the chap there was not so forthcoming when I enquired about some rope. I tried Leclerc but they didn't even sell any, so I went back.
The woman had found a piece of strap for fastening down luggage and suggested we try it. I said that we shouldn't really but she insisted that we might as well.
It snapped before leaving the car park, which was probably something of a relief.
Finally, I asked if she wouldn't mind giving me a lift home and so at least I would get get back. She did not mind at all, so I left the car in the corner of the car park and hoped it would be alright.
It is amazing how coincidences come about. It turns out that our neighbour (of sorts – an Englishman who lives in a caravan in a field next to us and whom we have been hoping to get rid of for years) has been helping this woman with some building work. More than that, he ended up following us home. The Englishwoman stopped to say hello and we shook hands and he is a most peculiar looking chap. Mum is convinced he is on drugs and I wouldn't contest it.
I changed out of my soaked clothes and watched the Saturday sports programmes as planned but I couldn't relax fully, thinking how I was going to sort out the car. Mum and Dad were not due back until Monday evening and I was supposed to be in work on Monday morning.
Eventually, it struck me - Dad's old bike! If it brightened up and the 2CV got a bit of sun on it, it would start. I had got a bit of charge into the battery from the Englishwoman's car. Plus, I could use the handle!
I determined to give it until tomorrow but as the weather cleared up by this evening, impatience got me on the bike and into town. I tried it on the handle but got nothing but sore, bruised hands. I dared not use the battery and ruin my chances for tomorrow when it could have dried out more, so I rode back, had a Stein, steak-frites and wine and watched Elvis videos.
Also, I have been giving Ben plenty of retrieves. At almost thirteen years of age, he loves it. It gives him his exercise and he tells me when he has had enough. He is great!
No comments:
Post a Comment