Continued from… Breakdown service (1)
She killed the engine again and wondered what she should do. The car behaved strangely back there. The last couple of meters the tremor of the steering wheel was so bad that she could barely hold it anymore. Suddenly Gina knew. In one swift movement she opened the door, got out of the car and slammed the door. The two tires on the left side of the car was perfectly okay. She walked around the back of the car to the other side. The back tire was okay. The front tire was the problem. It was almost entirely flat, which explained the reason she felt the tremor in the steering wheel and why the car had seem to slow down even though she had her foot on the gas.
“No need to call the breakdown service,” Gina decided, “I can change the tire myself.”
She opened the boot of the car. First she had to get the stuff she permanently stored in her car out of there, to get to the bottom of the boot. Gina knew that she had a spare tire in there as well as a jack and a wheel spanner. She could do this.
Gina looked down at the empty space. She had lifted the floor covering of the boot and was now staring at a big empty space. Okay, not entirely empty. She had a wheel spanner. However, two of the most important things were missing: the jack and the spare tire.
“Oh fuck!” she exclaimed again, remembering that Kevin had a flat tire some months ago and he borrowed her spare tire and jack. He just never gave it back.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Gina got back into the car and slammed the door behind her. She was angry. Frustrated. Feeling helpless. It took her a couple of minutes to calm down. She retrieved her pink purse from her bag. Her cell phone was on seat next to her. Moments later she was listening to the phone ringing.
“Please have your membership card and car registration number ready so the operator can help you more efficiently,” a recorded voice said.
Gina disconnected. She rummaged through her bag for a piece of paper and a pen, got out of the car, jotted down her registration number and got back into the car. Again she dialed the number of the breakdown service.
“Good afternoon, how may we be of service?” the voice of the operator said in her ear.
“I have a flat tire,” Gina said and she hated that she sounded piteous.
“Have you tried to change the tire, miss?” the operator asked.
“I wanted to, but discovered that I don’t have a spare tire or a jack with me.”
“Oh that is unfortunate. You know that you should always have that in your car?”
“Yes, I do, but my boyfriend borrowed it from me and never gave it back,” she explained.
“No need to explain, miss. Can you please tell me your current location?”
“I am in a parking area next to the B301. The parking area is called Anchor’s Creek,” Gina answered.
“We will try to have a service mechanic with you within the hour, miss.”
The waiting started. Gina stayed in the car for the first couple of minutes, but in the heat of the sun the car quickly heated up. She got out and sat down at the picnic table. How she wished that there were other people around, then she could at least have engaged in a conversation and the time would have passed quicker. Why did the breakdown have to happen on this quiet road and not on the highway? She realized that it was futile to play this ‘what if’ game. She could just as well make the best of her time. She got a blanket from the back seat of the car and spread it out on the grass next to the picnic table. She sat down on it, pulled her dress up so it barely covered her crotch and lay back to leave the sun to tan her legs.
To be continued… Breakdown service (3)
© Rebel’s Notes
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