The Holiday Part Two -- Transport

Whenever I start thinking about a trip the issue of transport looms fairly large on my planning horizon. Finding a vehicle where I can travel in my wheelchair and avoid having to transfer in and out of cars is not as easy as it may sound. So imagine my delight when my folks announced their intention to bring their kombi down to South Africa for pretty much the duration of my stay. (This van has been kitted out with the necessary ramps & lockdown points to accommodate my chair.) They were due to arrive a couple of days after me, but Mike had organised to borrow another kombi off Rod -- a friend of his -- for those couple of days. So, all sorted then?

When, I ask you, has The Life of Brian ever been that simple? I mean did Frodo Baggins simply jump into the back of a cab, shout "Mordor Central -- the ring return department, mate" before getting stuck into the "You and Your Feet" pull out colour supplement of Hobbit Monthly? No, exactly! So, if you feel up to it Brace yourself and read on!?!

Things certainly started well. Mike picked me up in Rods kombi and the first weekend passed without a hitch -- although the ramps I was using were precarious to say the least. A touch on the short side and dangerously slippery when wet. My folks also arrived with their kombi as planned on the Tuesday before Easter. So far so good.

So on Wednesday morning we sent my dad off to get Rods van valeted & filled up with petrol. We then went in convoy and dropped off Rods van, collected Mike's car (which Rod had borrowed), dropped Mike's car off at his office and headed home. On the way home we noticed that something wasn't quite right with the kombi. Sort of jerking and misfiring -- the timing perhaps? Mindful of the long weekend ahead we decided to take it in the following day to get it looked at.

Thursday was tedious. Imagine being stuck in Four Ways Mall (a big shopping centre north of Johannesburg) pretty much all day while the mechanics at the VW dealership "fixed" the problem. ‘Nuff said! The only thing that kept me sane was the prospect of dinner with Joni and the ex-Liptonian reprobates that evening. Eventually the car was returned to us with a brand-new set of spark plugs that were supposed to be the solution to all our problems.

Full of confidence we set out that evening for a night of revelry -- only to come to a shuddering halt in the middle of Johannesburg! Putting to one side the fact that I was now stuck in the hijackers number-one vehicle of choice in one of the top three murder capitals of the world, I started trying to make contact with the AA. I got hold of Joni & Gareth who offered to phone for me. I believe the conversation went something like this:

"Hallo, my name is Gareth, but I'm phoning on behalf of a friend who is a member of AA UK ……………. United Kingdom…………………… England yes. His name is Brian. No, I'm Gareth. Yes, I'm a member. No, I'm not broken down, it's Brian who is broken down. Yes, he is a member but in the UK, sorry England. No, he is not broken down in England, it's here in Johannesburg…………………………" And So on and so forth. I'm sure you get the idea!

Against all odds an AA man eventually did arrive, but not before Gareth. Mr AA took one look at it and declared that the spark plugs leads were in fact the culprit. He added that the honourable gentleman at the esteemed VW dealership might want to visit the optician as, in his humble opinion, a pair of spectacles may be in order -- or words to that effect! While he didn't have replacement leads for us he was sure that a 24 hours spares shop he knew of would. So a plan was hatched whereby Gareth would tow us to the restaurant, drop me off and then go to the spares place with Pierre (my PA) who would then fit the leads and normal transport services would be resumed.

The plan got off to a good start when I made it to the restaurant and started drinking (wouldn't you?). However after driving half an hour across town, Gareth and Pierre succeeded only in establishing that the spares shop was out of kombi leads! By the time they got back they definitely needed a drink. So now it was my turn to speak to the AA:

"Hello my name is Brian, I'm a member of the AA UK……………….. United Kingdom……………….. England yes. The vehicle registration? It's a Zimbabwean vehicle. Yes, I'm broken down but not in Zimbabwe and not in England but here in Johannesburg……………." etc etc!

Fortunately we were having dinner with one of the owners of the restaurant, so she was able to ensure that the Bar remained open until the AA tow truck arrived at 1:30 a.m., which was nice. I was then loaded into the kombi which was then loaded on top of the tow truck and off we sped, and just about made it home in one piece.

Of course the next day was Good Friday so South Africa was closed.

Ppprrrrrrrrtt! Half-time! This seems like an appropriate point at which to take a (well-deserved) break. So everyone, back to the changing rooms for drinks & orange segments -- prepared earlier by the PE teachers -- and be back here in, say 10 minutes? Right? Right……………………………………….. Okay, everyone back? Are you all ready? Right. Ppprrrrrrrrtt! Play on!

So on Easter Saturday morning I phoned the VW dealership. I passed on Mr AA's comments about the spectacles. I also added my opinion on the efficacy of the time & money we had spent with them the previous Thursday, and my appreciation at being afforded that uniquely South African "anticipation of hijack" experience -- or words to that effect! Let's just say that a man with a van was dispatched.

Of course it was always going to be too much to expect the VW dealership to actually have the leads we needed. Fortunately I was able to track them down at a spares shop that happened to be open. The man (with van), the leads and the immobile kombi were assembled and the leads installed. Ta-da? And? Nothing, nada, bugger all! After much head scratching and a couple of phone calls the conclusion was reached that nothing could be done until Tuesday when the garrage opened again.

An emergency call was put through to Rod who most graciously gave us the loan of his van again.

Over the weekend we constructed a cunning, if convoluted plan to tow the kombi into the garrage on Tuesday. For some reason my Dad decided to try starting it first thing in the morning and, hey presto, it started first time. The plot thickens. The towing plan was abandoned and my folks drove the kombi to the garrage. They crawled over it pretty much all day, found nothing amiss and eventually pointed an accusatory finger at the immobiliser which "must be faulty". Unfortunately for us they couldn't check, fix or override said immobiliser (despite it being a factory fitted VW immobiliser). They could however proudly point us in the direction of someone they thought who could.

All that said, the kombi seemed to been working fine again. Bear in mind that all of this was going on against the backdrop of a game of "musical cars" between my folks (who were staying with me in Mike's old house) and Mike & Tanya (who were staying in the new house). There was also the small matter of building a venue for the wedding -- but more about that another time!

So on Wednesday morning we sent my dad off to get Rods van valeted & filled up with petrol. Deja vu anyone? Sean was arriving that day and needed fetching from the airport. Instead of dropping Rod's kombi off on the way to the airport as intended I decided to wait until we got back, just in case. When we came to another shuddering halt, this time on the William Nicol off ramp, I felt justified!

The kombi was coaxed back into life and Sean & my Dad took it off to the immobiliser specialist. They weren't able to do anything, but sent them in the direction of another VW dealership. Sean & Dad didn't make it! Mike was dispatched with a tow rope.

Thursday was a public holiday and once again South Africa was closed.

On Friday the AA were summoned (I'm guessing you can work the conversation out), who took the kombi to the new improved VW dealership. When the phone call came we learned that the fuel gauge was faulty and the tank was empty. Now, before you collapse in guffaws of laughter consider this. The cars malaise was most definitely intermittent. I have run out of petrol before and trust me it's not an intermittent thing!

To cut what is becoming a tediously long story short, after a protracted teleconference between Sean (new house), me (old house) and mechanic (VW dealership) a thing called an altitude sensor was identified as a potential villain. Of course the dealership didn't have one of these to hand and would have to order it. In the meantime we could have the kombi back.

I was starting to get a little weary of being towed home, so I decided to stick with Rod's kombi for the time being. As a result I actually made it to the wedding under my own steam.

So on the Wednesday after the wedding (two days before I left) I went with Dad to the new VW dealership. The altitude sensor had indeed arrived. A small black plastic device no more then 3cm square that was fitted in less time than it takes to smell your own fart!

The kombi has run like a bird ever since, including delivering me to the airport and getting my folks all the way back to Zim without even a hint of a jerk (I class myself as more "obnoxious" than "jerk")!

And that, you will be delighted to know, was the end of that. Wasn't it lucky I organised my transport arrangements so well in advance of my trip?!?

(This tale is dedicated to the enormous generosity of Rod and his family for lending me his kombi for "a couple of days"!)