Vehicularly Challenged - Part 2

Continued from previous post ...

Fortunately, I am a two vehicle household. Sure, the Saab is out of action, but I remembered the yellow Ferrari and decided not to sweat the small stuff. I would cheerfully make do with the motorbike.

Being back on the bike full time wasn't so bad. I was actually rather enjoying it, although I quickly realised that I'd gone a bit soft on my 2 month holiday. Just as my bum was starting to toughen up again, disaster struck. I came home late from work one night. My bike was still chained to the post where I'd left it that morning, but there were some differences.

I'd left it mounted firmly on the centre stand. Now it was off the stand and leaning precariously against the post with a nice new crop of scratches down the side of both bike and post. My first thought was that it had been hit by a car, but there didn't seem to be any damage on the other side of the bike, and the centre stand was neatly folded away. Then I noticed that the fuel line was on and the switch was in the run position. Someone had been messing with my bike. Presumably the same someone who messed with my Saab's number plates. Now I think a mere piking is too good for them. I want to chain their feet to the parked Saab and their hands to the bike, then slowly ride away.

But I can't ride away. On further investigation I find that the bike is also in fourth gear and won't start. It would appear that in their inept efforts to kick it over, in gear and without a key, the mindless vandals have buggered up the starter. I'm stranded, on a perfectly flat road in the middle of the night, dressed in office attire and with a heavy backpack. Home is a couple of kilometres away and uphill. I am stuffed.

Just at that moment, a middle aged and enormously overweight woman drives into the carpark to drop some old clothes in a donation bin. She sees me struggling with the bike and waddles over. "You need a hand?"

"Someone's been messing with it. They couldn't steal it, but they tried to kick it over in gear. Now it won't kick."

"Do you want me to give you a push?"

I looked at this woman, trying to hide my skepticism. Even if she could push the bike far and fast enough for me to clutch start it, I figured there was a fair chance she would have a heart attack and drop dead on the spot. I weighed up the consequences. I figured I could leave the bike running while I administered CPR. "Would you mind?"

She was game, hunkered down and shoved off. I could hear her breathing through my helmet. Slightly panicked I dropped the bike into gear and it locked up, dead.

I cursed under my breath while she tried to catch hers. I gave it the kicker another couple of pointless tries while my saviour puffed and clutched at her chest. "It's okay," I soothed. "Thanks anyway."

"Do you have someone you can call?" She gasped.

"Not really," I admitted. "I'll just have to call roadside assistance and wait for them to show up." It was after 11 pm and we both knew this was not a happy situation. I gave her one last critical look. Maybe I could push the bike and she could clutch it. I thought it over for a moment and realised that even if the bike held up under her weight, I might not. There was actually a fair chance that I'd have a heart attack and drop dead on the spot. She was still breathing hard, but appeared, under the streetlight, to be a fairly normal colour. "Would you mind giving me another push?"

To her eternal credit, she gave it another go. I was patient, let her build up momentum, ignored the sounds of dying from over my shoulder until the bike was really moving, then dropped the clutch just as she gave up. It caught, sputtered, choked ... I throttled on frantically and somehow kept it running.

I left the bike in neutral and checked on my new best friend. Like the bike, she was a little shaky but seemed to be running. I thanked her profusely as she staggered back to her car and I waved as she drove off into the night, puffing and sweating. What a woman!

I nursed the bike home and chained it up next to the useless Saab. I turned off the bike and then tried to kick it over immediately. It started hesitantly, but a couple of days later it still won't kick cold. So now I need to spend some money on getting it fixed before I leave it with Nat. In the meantime I can rely on it only if I park exclusively on hills or have someone around to give me a push.

So I went from two vehicle household, to two wheeled household, to my own two feet within a few days, most of which I spent on hold, trying to call various government agencies. They say these things happen in threes, so I'm really hoping nobody attacks my shoes.