No one likes breaking down in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, this was just an oil check. Our clutch gave out in a convenient parking lot.
I put my foot to the floor, pulling the gearshift out of overdrive and slowed for the wide turning truck ahead of me. I knew immediately something was wrong, though. The clutch was soft and the shifting was hard. My sense of touch sharpened as I tested the pedal again gingerly. Damn. In my mind’s eye, I ran the course of the hydraulic mechanism that made changing gears possible, searching for the fault. Realizing that I must have a leak somewhere in the line, I knew that I must minimize the gear changes, as each one could be my last. Not in a fatalistic sense, but at least until I got the car looked at.
We turned off the Bruce Highway and headed toward Airlie Beach, a part of the coast that is known for partying backpackers as much as sand or sea. We drew near to the outskirts of town and I spied the landing spot: a big American style suburban shopping complex. There was a grocery store, an autoparts store and two hardware stores. I knew at once it was my salvation.
I turned in on what would turn out to indeed be my last shift and coasted to a nice spot in the parking lot. I got out and was under the car nearly before the engine died down. And there it was: a pinhole sized breach in a rubber hose that was going to put an end to any further movement for the day. In fact, being Sunday, we weren’t going anywhere for a while as almost nothing in Australia is open on the Lord’s Day.
Having so recently come out of the outback, shopping malls (especially those lacking intoxicated people fighting out front) still held an air of wonder for us, so with nothing else to do, we went inside and passed the time in the air conditioned luxury that large retail developments provide.
We hadn’t planned on staying the night in the parking lot, but we still needed to make dinner before we found a place to camp out, so we waited for the shops to close and then set up our stove. We had just pulled the last of our pasta dinner off when a very rude, angry and foul man drove up in a private security car. Without so much as uttering a terse greeting, he hailed us with language that might have chagrined a sailor. I looked at him for a while then went over to talk to him. Now, I have some experience dealing with people who are (or think they are) in positions of authority. Call it too much time at the building departments trying to get permits to put in solar arrays, but I figured I could get this guy to chill out.
Not so. Though I wasn’t really concerned about the guy, he was doing his best to appear very powerful, a sure sign of a weak hand. Still, in these cases, it’s usually best to let people like this persist in their delusions of strength if for no other reason than avoiding the extra wrath that comes with unmasking them by calling their bluff.
After our brief conversation- if you could call it that- to things were clear: Our car could stay but we couldn’t. We took our dinner 20 feet away to the public road and ate on the curb. Ahh, arbitrary rules.
The next day, I exhausted hopes of a quick fix given the sparse selection of tools on hand (namely an adjustable wrench, a micro-leatherman and two screwdrivers) and went in search of a decent, honest mechanic. As most car owners know, this is rarely an easy task, even in the best of times, but as fate would have it, our failing clutch had brought us to within one street of just such a mechanic. I put the car into low range four wheel drive and started it up in gear. The car chugged along at a constant and maximum speed of 4 kilometers per hour all the way out of the parking lot and over to the mechanic savior. And praise be to god, for the Nissan dealership had the part, and yea, the price was not too dear.
And we were up and running again.
Only when you are living on the road are you thankful for breaking down close to help.
Postscript. On the positive side of things, our mechanic recommended a great beach to camp at where there was practically no one around. Salvation! I swear that everyone in Australia wants to be your tour guide.
