Darling Darren and the Fractured Pipe

Brakefluid2 I was rushing around this morning trying to achieve as much as possible by lunchtime when the unexpected happened.  Having been a Brownie in another century, I decided I could cope, no, would cope!  You see, the brakes failed on my trusty steed.  Not her fault, apparently.  Thankfully, had just delivered daughter to animal sanctuary for the day and was on the way home.  Lots of roundabouts to negotiate.  Sinking feeling as foot hit the floor and almost nothing happened.  Luckily didn’t hit anything else.  Limped to Darling Darren.  Imagine my relief when I saw he was there, under a car which was up on the ramp.  I saw he looked both impressed and distressed when he clocked my hands were covered in oil and other black stuff . . . 

Yes, I’d been under the bonnet.  OK, admittedly I had to consult the handbook to locate the catch under the bonnet but only because it wasn’t in a logical place!  Back for second read to locate brake fluid chambre.  Oops, way below minimum.  Warning light on.  Not what a girl needs when busy.

DD reverses car off ramp in his workshop and tells me to bring mine in.  Heavens, he doesn’t expect me to drive on to that metal structure, surely??  Suddenly remember that I was a Brownie.  Get behind the wheel.  Fleetingly wonder what will happen in only one wheel mounts the lift and I miss with the other one.  There’s nothing for it.  Go girl!  Step on the gas.  It was a ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ moment.  Car enters structure at a ridiculous angle.  Do or die!  Press the throttle and  we seem to be airborne.  There’s a bump.  Oh gawd, what was that?  DD looking at the rear urging me forward.  Nothing to worry about, just going over a strip of metal.  Forward, again and again!  Darren, I’m going to hit the wall in a minute.  Believe he knows what he’s doing.  He signals (by way of a loud shout which startled me) that I should stop.  Disembark as nimbly as I can.  Feel a rosy glow; unsure whether it’s a flush of success or just stress.

Mcd DD identifies fractured brake pipe as fluid drips all around him.  He’s looking up and resist temptation to suggest he should be wearing safety goggles.  DD says he can make me another pipe and fix it within the hour.  Can I leave it with him?  Oh, Universe, how great thou art to introduce me to a Darren a little while ago.  Now, luckily, there’s a McDonald’s nearby.  I say this because DD’s little workshop is in the middle of an industrial estate and there’s not a great deal for a girl to do for an hour.  Walk to said coffee house and order latte – always good for shock, I find.  Quiet in there, great!  Sit at windowseat so I can watch passers by and have a think.  Take sipSpilled_coffee  of latte and am scalded back to reality.  Top not fixed on properly.  Latte staining six inch square of my freshly laundered pale blue shirt.  So, to fractured pipe add loose lid and the day’s shaping up in a way I hadn’t imagined.   Replace latte.  Try again.

Great time to catch up on some ‘phoning and texting!  Set about using my time meaningfully.  Thoughts of reverie abandoned in pursuit of rescuing something from the morning.  Hard to lose oneself in thought with a large and expanding cold, wet patch on one’s clothing!  At last, the hour has passed.

Make my way back to DD, clutching take-out bag containing double chocolate muffin for my saviour – he looks like a lad who enjoys his food.  My faithful friend is repaired, the ramp is down but she’s still on the structure.  I wonder if DD is telepathic as he responds to my thought of "I haven’t got to reverse off that, have I?" with "I’ll just get her off for you".  Was he more terrified than he let on at the way I Muffin_4 mounted the car lift?  He reverses off, straight out of the workshop, up through parked cars in the yard and doesn’t stop until he’s out in the road.  Either he fears for the safety of the parked vehicles, or he’s a real gent.  I think, Darling Darren, you’re a prince among men and a real gent.  I hope you enjoy your muffin, you deserve it.


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