Page 134 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Forty-Seven

An hour into my journey, the heavens open. With so much water on the road, and poor visibility, I’m forced to slow down to seventy kilometres on the highway.

After another two hours of driving at what feels like a snail’s pace, the car begins to make a dull flapping sound. The steering pulls to the right.

Oh no. It’s not, is it?

I slow down and turn in to the next street on the left. The flapping noise continues. When it’s safe to stop, I put the car in neutral and yank on the handbrake. I open the door wide enough to stick my umbrella out and extend it. After a walk around the car, and dodging giant puddles, I find a flat tyre.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I scramble back into the car and contemplate my options. I could ring Ben—I’m only half an hour or so away—but he needs to be with Sam. After a minute of staring at the swishing windscreen wipers, I decide to call Dad.This’ll be a fun call.

“How’s my beautiful girl?” he says, and makes a kissing sound.

“Hey Dad. Um, currently she’s stranded on the side of the road on the way to Sydney with a flat tyre.”

He lets out a mammoth sigh. “Oh, bugger. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’m good. I can do this—it’s just been a while since you taught me. Can you run me through it?”

“Why don’t you ring the NRMA? They should get to you pretty quick. That’s what you pay membership for.”

He’s gonna hate me.“Um, because I didn’t organise the roadside assist package?”

“Oh, lord. Seriously, Jane? What did I tell you before we left?”

“But I don’t go anywhere!” I say in a raised voice. “Well, now I do, because Sam is in Sydney—”

“Who’s this Sam fella?”

“My boyfriend. I was going to talk to you and Mum about him, but things have been pretty crazy.”

“Well, you can catch us up on your newloverlater.”

“Urgh, Dad! Don’t say it like that.”

“What? Are you not lovers?”

I can’t have this conversation with him. Now or later.“Dad,” I growl in warning.

“Okay, okay. Keep your knickers on. For a start, are your hazard lights on?”

I press the red triangle button on my dash. “Yes.”

“Alrighty then. First, undo the wheel nuts with the wheel brace and then get the jack out. You might have to assemble the handle. Position the jack under the axle and wind it until it’s high enough to just bring the tyre off the ground. Then take it off, put your spare on, and make sure you do the wheel nuts up nice and tight. Got it?”

I let out a deep breath. I can do it, but I know I’ll get drenched. “Yep. Got it. Thanks, Dad.”

“Now, as soon as you get home, get the flat fixed or replaced, and ring the bloody NRMA and sort out your membership.”

“Yes, Dad,” I say in an apologetic tone. “Thank you.”

“Ring me back if you need to. In fact, ring me or text me and let me know when you’re back on the road.”

“I will.”

***

A lifetime later, I arrive at Nepean Hospital. Drenched. Stressed. Exhausted.

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