What do you want to do today, hubby asked. I said I wanted to shop at Bicester Outlet (hey, we’re doing up our house at the moment, I can only afford discount shops), but before that I wanted to eat roti canai which I’d been craving since reading TFP’s post. Since it was raining, I decided to wear my new red mac, and ah sure, why not my lovely Borneo pearls as well.
When we arrived at Wembley, the roti shop hadn’t opened, so we figured we’d keep going to Bicester. We had driven about 40 miles or so when hubby had to pull over onto the hard shoulder just after the Aylesbury junction on the M40. The engine had overheated and the steering wheel was extremely tight. Hubby turned off the engine, and lifted the bonnet. He told me that we had to ground the car for 20 minutes to let the car cool down. About 30 minutes later, we decided to test the car, and barely drove 500 metres before having to pull over again. The car was definitely sick. And I needed the loo.
Hubby called for road side assistance and was told they would be with us within the hour. That’s a long wait. Especially when you need a pee. My side of the car faced a slope and a big farm beyond the fence marking the boundaries. No matter how fancy your mac or pearls are, everyone needs to pee sometime. While hubby discussed logistics with the recovery crowd, I got out of the car, opened the back passenger door on my side, had my own door open, squatted in the space between the two doors, and pee’d. A grasshopper watched me. Pervs, they come in all shapes and sizes.
We were told to wait on the slope for safety reasons. And wait we did. After what seemed like ages, a tow truck pulled up. Our lift was here. The car was strapped onto the back of the truck and hubby and I rode in the truck. Me in my new red mac and fancy pearls.
There was no trip to Bicester. We got a lift all the way home. I tried to jump out gracefully, but those trucks are awfully high up aren’t they? We walked to a repair centre down the road from us. Hubby asked the mechanic if this was the right place for the car or should he go to a specialist. The mechanic tried not to snigger when he said to hubby that his fancy car had a Ford Mondeo chassis. The poor car is booked in for a check-up on Tuesday.
We’re grounded for the rest of the weekend. Although I am keen to accomplish at least one thing I set out to do today.
Hubby, fancy a trip on the tube to Wembley for some roti? I still have my pearls on.