The drive out to the country is always an interesting one. Invariably, something stuffs up royally, whether it’s a blown tyre, someone getting stung by a mystery insect, or the weather somehow stepping in to prevent a bridge crossing. This time, I’ve gotten off relatively easy, with the van’s air conditioning deciding to conk out, despite being serviced earlier this year.
That said, it’s a challenge, driving through the hottest part of the day in a battered eight-seater without climate control. Summer in this part of the world is relatively unforgiving, and I’m struggling. So I’ve got my eyes peeled for someone who can repair auto air conditioning. Hobart was probably my best shot and, unfortunately, that neck of the woods is quite a way behind me now.
Well, I guess I’ll just keep trucking… there’s not much chance of anything being open, anyway, at this late stage. I might as well just get on with it and embrace the discomfort. I’ve wrapped a wet towel around my head and pulled and ice back out of esky to stick down my singlet. Hopefully I won’t get pulled over for anything. I reckon the cops would understand, though – it’s a real stinker out on the road today.
If only I’d bothered to book in for an en route car service. Hobart would have been just the place, now that I think about it – I could have stayed at Greg’s place while they worked on it, and still felt like I was on my way to my destination. My problem is that I’m someone who doesn’t like waiting around; I always have to be on my way to the next thing, even if it slow me down more in the end.
I guess when it comes down to it, at the end of the day I can’t complain too much. Like I said, there have been worse incidents on the way out to the country-side in the past.