freshly sharpened pencils...

this guy at work has sorta promised to lend me is jalopy ford escort. he's getting it smog checked and registered and i'll be good to go. i like those cars. in fact back home we have a 1974 model which my 'rents never got around to selling it because of the sentimental value that it had appreciated over time. why sell to someone who'll abuse while we would drive it once a week and polish it for four hours?

we love that car to bits. it's orange in colour and everytime i'd drive it, friends would call it the "yellow submarine" - it's so old you'd wonder when it would sink! that never seemed to bother us. the fact that it got us from alpha to beta mattered. forget that some pipes are sunga-ed with rekeni, forget that half the rear view mirror's missing, forget that second gear doesn't really work and that you have to skip from one to three, forget that you avoid driving it when it rains - you might get wet, forget all those things. we love our old escort!

but one day... there's always a "but" to every tale. i was home for the weekend. this is when i was working in some forgotten school. my mama asked me to take it for a spin because the car hadn't been moved for at least 6 weeks. anything for our little old lady. the battery had obviously died and we spent half an hour pushing it down our street [full view of the neighbours] until we got it working. the plan was to take it to mr exhaust, mr tyre [duze leBSS] and get the battery recharged.

i casually drove into town, nursing it every step of the way making sure that it didn't decide to die out on me. when i got to 4th ave and robert mugabe way, i was suddenly getting stares from people. unbeknownst to me, i was leaving a trail of smoke behind [half the rear view mirror was missing]. i pull into my destination and the guy comes running out of the shop screaming, "imota yakho iyatsha!" - meaning, your car's burning. here's the scene: i'm surrounded by plenty parked cars outside a workshop with goodness knows what's flammable. a brand new gas station is across the road. ergo, potential disaster.

so i jump out, the car's still moving, i jump back in, turn off the ignition, jump out, look around, oh ma gaad, jump back in, take it out of gear, jump out, start pushing backwards - alone! everyone from the nearby busy market street - for those who know sixth ave in skies - is staring in total awe. jump back in pull the bonnet thingie, jump back out, yank the hood up and thankfully some guy puts the fire out. by this time, a crowd has gathered - and typical of abantu - they are all staring and whispering to each each.

i rush to my aunt maddy who has a pharmacy on the same block. she's practically my second mother. she called my mama to let her know that our darling car had became a bit too hot to handle. ma just laughed it off but i knew she also grieving. anyhoo, we got her towed home and almost immediately called uncle silas next door. he's fixed our cars for yonks!

i took him at least 12 months to breathe some air into her lungs. she's got bits of a datsun 120Y under that hood but she is moving now. she remains with a big burn scar however. we kept it as a reminder to the day my life literally flashed back at me!