Several weeks ago my old car ‘Cosimo’ conked out just as my daughter and I were turning the corner into the bottom of our street.
When my Hubby got home that evening, he made a diagnosis and then decided that he would need to push Cosimo back up the road to our driveway.
I sat at the wheel, Hubby pushed, but as our street is on a hill, it wasn’t long before we had to abandon that idea for fear of Hubby being either squished on the road or doing his back in as a result of me continually putting the brakes on by mistake…
Home he went to get his car and a tow rope and, after hooking me up, we were off again.
Now our street isn’t too big at all but on a very dark night, with no power steering and with parked cars all around, it might just as well have been as long as the M1.
Hubby gave me strict instructions – no braking while we’re moving and when I see his lights come on, stop but not too fast or the rope will break.
Off we went and I tried desperately to weave my way around the parked cars without hitting anyone, while all the time cursing my lack of power steering.
By the time he stopped I went to put on my brakes, but in the midst of my worry over whether or not I was braking too hard or too fast, I could no longer find the peddle and almost went into the back of him.
Luckily I managed to stop just in time but not before my heart had leapt into my mouth.
Since then poor Cosimo has sat on our drive like a poor old wounded soul, while my hubby tries to figure out what’s wrong with him.
The experience has taught me two things, however:
1) It might be time to join the RAC and
2) I seriously need to build up my muscles…