Is there ANYTHING worse than being late?
An over-extended week of being psycho-phamacologically challenged left me feeling confident that at the very least I could find my way to Melbourne’s Avalon Airport to collect a friend who was coming to town. I set off faithfully following the instructions of my trusty GPS navigator and marveled as left turns and right turns unfolded in front of me and I obeyed the clinically-toned words of the disembodied voice. Within a matter of a couple of kilometers I was on the main highway to Geelong, and there were those comforting little aircraft pictures to re-assure me that I was taking the correct route. All seemed right with the world. I was on time and going in the right direction, which (let’s face it) is what most of the human race simply requires.
Then things went ‘pear-shaped’ or as the Grateful Dead used to say, “when life looks like easy street, there’s danger at the door”. The weather in Melbourne is notoriously fickle. Melburnians love to brag (as if it’s something to brag about!) that Melbourne can have the weather of four seasons in the one day. One day? I’ve seen all four seasons in one hour! Anyway, there I was on the way to Avalon airport, minding my own business and ‘truckin’ when the sky which had hitherto been a Mediterranean blue, turned a rather brute-bruise dark purple. Rain started to fall in blobs so big that they splattered on the windshield like small exploding liquid grenades. I was under attack and slowed to a cowardly fifty kilometers an hour whilst visibility rendered the road ahead a mirage of conflicting possibilities. Windshield wipers flapping uselessly and all lights on full beam, I inched down the highway with eyes straining and heart thumping. If it got any worse, I re-assured myself, I was going to pull over and stop. Within a couple of minutes the rain stopped and once again a dazzling blue informed the sky. Fickle or what ? The weather was simply unable to make up its mind as to what it wanted to do and had obviously decided to give me the whole kit and caboodle
in as short a space of time as was possible. I had gone from mid-winter to spring in the space of five minutes.
I was feeling tired. I looked at my watch and it dawned upon me that I was more than three hours early for the flight ! Three whole hours - this was ridiculous - what was I going to do, sit in an airport and wait for all that time? Not a chance ! Must have been some pretty spectacular substances my friends had introduced me to if thirty-six hours later I still couldn’t tell the time! It was obvious that I needed sleep ! Lots of it. A service area appeared ahead of me and with a mounting sense of disbelief that I could have mis-read my own watch I pulled past the fuel-pumps and into a large parking area. I parked the bus as far away from everyone as was possible and retired to the bed to sleep. This was at about 4.30 in the afternoon and the sky was still a wonderful turquoise blue.
I awoke after dark feeling refreshed and stumbled along the length of the bus to the driving position. I would start up the bus and warm up the engine (and the bus) before departing in good time for the airport. I turned the key in the ignition - nothing! Sweet Fannie Adams as my father used to say (instead of saying sweet fuck all). Then the awful (and silly) truth dawned upon me. During the stormI had driven through prior to going to sleep, I had turned my lights on. I had arrived at my resting spot in broad daylight and had failed to turn them off. My batteries were now as flat as a super-models breasts! This was now a genuine crisis as there was only about an hour before I had to collect my friend from the airport. A quick ‘think’ and I realised that the ’solution’ was at hand.
In the back of the bus, underneath the bed and in a separate compartment, were four 12 volt batteries which were charged by the solar panels on the roof. The bus engine works on 24 volts. All I needed to do was remove two of the batteries from the rear of the bus, take them up to the front, and replace the flat batteries for a moment. As soon as the engine was started the alternator would kick in, and within five minutes the batteries which were flat would be re-charged. The solar system batteries could then be restored to their rightful position and I could head down the road. In due course, this is exactly what happened, though not without considerable effort upon my part. 12 volt truck batteries are heavy and they were stashed in a difficult place, not easy to access, so with my broken back it was hard work to extract the batteries and carry them the length of the bus. But I did it AND I arrived at the airport ON TIME!
Is there ANYTHING worse than being late? An old Tour Manager would say definitely NOT! Depart for meetings in good time so that IF something untoward occurs there’s still time to fix the problem and arrive on time! This is great advice and applies to virtually anything, other than blogs !! A lost week in Melbourne definitely sabotaged my getting the blog in on time, and if it had been a column for a weekly newspaper no-doubt the editor would (by now) have fired me! BUT, my friends all over the world know that I am only VERY occasionally unreliable and that this is a rare admission. I get to airports on time, three times I have got to ‘the church’ on time. This once my blog was late - I would blame it on too much fun, except that I seriously doubt that there IS such a thing!
© sam cutler 2009
