On my usual "school run" (as the British call it), I was on my way to the school and I heard a "pop" and something flapping. Being in a slight hurry and since the car still drove normally, and it was only a short distance, I kept going. I heard the flapping again but still, it drove alright. I'll look at it when I get there...
Of course I forgot but a bunch of guys in a car across the street did notice. "Hey lady, you have a flat!" Oh boy...
I had just been at the Toyota dealership that very morning making an appointment for a revision and because the brakes were squeeking. I went in for the brakes and then had them see if I needed the law-required revision and not surprisingly, I did.
I picked up Davina and called Toyota again while waiting outside the elementary for Ronnie and Talia. No, you have to call road assistance (direct translation there). I got a rude operator, whom I couldn't hear over the noise. She said someone would call me back and of course, they didn't. I called Daniel, then called the assitance people again and this time they patched me through to a mechanic.
The kids weren't exactly thrilled to hear this news. It was cold and they ate their snack, making a horrible mess, in the car while we waited. Daniel was about a half hour away waiting for the repairs on his own car to finish and rushed over, getting to me about 15 minutes before the mechanic arrived. I transferred Davina's seat over (Daniel keeps two boosters for the two older ones in his car) and sent them all home, with me to wait alone.
I knew I was in trouble when the truck arrived and passed me. This is a tiny, one-way street and there were no other Yaris's, especially not with my number plate, which I had given... He calls. "Where are you?" I stick my hand out the window and told him to look out the rearview mirror.
Okay...
So it starts pouring rain the minute he steps out of the car. He seemed nice enough and what I thought was an Eastern European accent was actually a thick Marseillaise one! Hey, it's not so easy to detect accents in a non-native language. I showed him the spare in the trunk and he then asks where the "cric" is. No idea. Not with the spare? Where's your owner's manual? I get it out. He looks in the front, then he flips to the back when he can't find it. Under the index, he finds "C", which lasts about a page and a half. He starts at the beginning, even though even I figured "cric" would be towards the end. I leaned over and pointed to it.
At least he was cute and nice, if not a rocket scientist...
He can't get the "cric" or jack in place because of the road and the rain, which has made it slick. This is an old road which has litterly centuries of paving over it, typically making it slope down at the sides. This also makes it especially fun to parellel park. I reposition the car (which isn't wise but we were desperate) and he uses the dry spot under the car to position the jack and change the tire.
Nothing to pay-yeah! But Toyota (and this time I ask for the head mechanic by name) tells me they can't do it Saturday so I have to wait till Monday "...and not right away. We can't do it till 10". I didn't ask why...
The spare tire I have is one of the temporary ones and I can't do over 80kph. So I managed to get to the market, home and to a meeting without touching the autoroute. I can drive 80 on the freeway but I know myself and I'll forget and I don't want to be stuck on the side of the road again.
Meanwhile, I went to the meeting and our book should be out on Tuesday. I'll write more about that later but I opened the medical section that I wrote, only to immmediately see a typo "hoisptal". Not a good omen! I actually saw a bunch, including the languages of the doctors left out. Oh well. Perhaps we can touch it up if the first 3000 get sold and it goes to a second printing...
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