Day Thirty Four
Thursday 7th August
Meltdown!
We were on the move again quell surprise, heading back over to my
parents villa in Andalucía. At least
that was our plan. Priscilla on the
other hand had ideas of her own.
It was a blisteringly hot day, as we hit the road to cover the distance
between Madrid
and my parent’s place,. We learnt later
it had been the hottest day of the year, in that part of Spain . Itt was to cause an almost irrecoverable
effect on the adventures of Priscilla, Queen of Europe.
We thundered along the motorway needing every ounce of aircon Priscilla
could muster. Nearing Murcia , about 150km
from my parent’s villa, disaster struck. Priscilla had journeyed over 11,000 kilometres
in the last 34 days, it was a burden too heavy for her to carry, she collapsed
under the strain. The heat was all too
much for this Japanese geisha from northern Japan , that I’d fondly nick named
Priscilla. Her engine temperature
suddenly shot skywards, I managed another 80 kilometres with massive engine
temperature variations before Priscilla called time and collapsed, exhausted
from the journey and heat, her engine temperature went awall, I swerved off the
auto route as we passed an exit pulling into the nearest safe spot to
investigate.
Hurling open Priscilla’s bonnet, I was greeted to a hissy fit of boiling
vapours, screeching out of her radiator,
engine coolant leaching its way through the system, gurgling and spitting onto
the road below. Priscilla had called time
on these adventures and I needed international rescue.
What I was to encounter over the next few hours would provide the sub
text for a whole book, let alone my little ol blog. But to try and be brief the narrative consisted
of; blistering temperatures beyond belief; A George Michael looky likey,
undercover as a breakdown assistance man, with a mission to test out his
English on me, non stop; Hours of waiting around whilst my breakdown insurance
company worked out what the hell to do in a country that totally shuts down for
a whole month of August; Priscilla being precariously towed off one breakdown
truck onto another, in the middle of no where. A second breakdown recovery man
who spoke only Spanish, smoked lots of cigarettes and had pictures of busty Latinos
and the Virgin Mary in his breakdown cab;
Johnathon in lock down mode muted by the magnitude of the situation; the
nicest kind of international rescue, my mum and dad.
We finally got to my parents villa about 9pm in the evening, over 6
hours later than Maureen had estimated.
It was a complete relief to be somewhere familiar, homely and safe. My parents did a sterling job of watering and
feeding us as they listened to the Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of Europe.
