Orphan in a Strange Land

The last time I bought a car, or built out the back of it, my dad was there to help me. And his table saw, and his tape measure, and his chop saw, and his power drill. 

Aside from the fact that my parents support me day in and day out, no matter where in the world I am, I never consciously recognized how privileged I was in regards to the resources I had at my disposal.

This time around I’m 11,000 miles away from my dad, and his workshop, and he happens to have skipped town to spend the better part of December rafting the Grand Canyon (read: out of service). I’m on my own.

Lucy herself is a solid, well-respected car with a reputation for loyalty, sold to me by solid people. Unfortunately, Loosey Lucy’s journey from humble Eildon work wagon to the second adventuremobile of my life turned into a bit of a saga right about when we thought all was pretty much said and done (aside from, ya know, putting signatures on the same piece of paper from different countries).

And so, hence forth I present to you two weeks in the Chronicles of Gavrila’s Somewhat Nonsencically Complicated Automobile Life:

•    Return from program to a flat tire. Because folks in Melbourne suburbs apparently don’t know how to put on a new tire without a leaky pin.

Grab the spare.

•    Monday, 28/11: Drop Lucy at the mechanic to complete her Roadworthy Certificate. And fix her tire. Said mechanic gives back a rattly, lurchy car, tells me a sensor broke sometime during the day, and it will cost $100 to replace. Also there isn’t one available in the area. (Also: Seriously, man? You break it, you buy it.)

•    Tuesday, 29/11: Return Lucy to the mechanic. Collect her three days later after program, with complete Roadworthy, and drive happily back to town.

•    Friday, 2/12: Attempt to ditch Lucy’s back seats at a coworker’s house for the summer. “Free couch! Just please don’t christen it…” 

Car doesn’t start. Realize I left the lights on. …oops.

•    Saturday, 3/12: Borrow jumper cables. Jump the car. Take her for a spin to juice the battery. Start smelling something weird. Noticed the engine thermometer skyrocketing. EMERGENCY LANDING NOW.

Radiator fluid is empty. (Uh…. isn’t this something a mechanic would, ya know, notice in three days of work, and maybe make a point of telling me???) Fill radiator with water. Pray a little bit. Sit and twiddle my thumbs a bit longer. 

Get Lucy’s seats to Connor’s house. Drive my ass home. Really, really slow. Hardware store and gas station are both closed. Awesome.

•    4/12: Buy coolant ASAP. 

•    5/12: Lucy is dead again. Re-jump. Thank god for car-minded roommates with cables.

Buy cables. Like nowza. Also buy plywood. And recruit good-hearted carpenter with a table saw to build a bed. Because, you know, adventuremobile 2.0.

•    10/12: Make curtains. Lay down a rug. Insert mattress.

•    11/12: Sign the stuff. ALL the stuff. Give Australian government more money.

• 12/12: Drive Lucy onto a huge-ass Boat. Wave Goodbye to Melbourne. Life is Good.

To say that I would have been in a lurch preparing for the summer without help would be an understatement to the point of insult: if the last two weeks have exemplified nothing else, it’s the power of good people.

I know I’m a bit of an introvert, and that I tend to spend a day or two hiding from the world after getting off five days of kids and teachers 24/7. Ergo, I don’t always see tons of folks on my weekends, no matter how awesome everyone around me happens to be. And I as much as massive thank you lists are a bit overused, there’s something to be said for what can be accomplished when a little effort and a whole lot of goodwill come together. So here’s a shout out to everyone, whether you’ll see this or not, who chipped a hand, or simply a hug, to help out in the last two weeks, in semi-chronological order:

• Jared, who helped me change my spare.

• Ben, who gave me a ride back from dropping my car off. Again. And then jumped my car. The first time.

• Sergio, who gave me a lift to pick up my car when we were all dead tired after program.

• Jamie, who helped brainstorm Adventuremobile 2.0’s storage setup. And contributed a tape measure.

• Jeremy, for the jumper cable lend.

• The random Eildon stranger who almost scalded himself on my overheated car, then poured the last of his water into my radiator.

• Ben (the other one), for jumping my car for the second time it putzed out. 

• Chris, who gave me two hours of his time away from a sick kid to get my bed built. 

• Whip, who knowingly and unknowingly contributed tools to take out my back seats and finish off my bed.

• Dave, who totally gave into my puppy dog eyes when I was sick and tired of cutting things. And contributed a rubber mallet. And storage containers.

• Keith, who helped get Lucy’s back seats out. And contributed heaps of food storage containers.

• Sasha. Your rug is dope. And now it’s my bed.

• Watson and Jo, who sold me a solid car and worked with me for months while we were all out of town and on program at different times to make things all—finally—come together.

And my dad, who's always been there for me, rooting me on from the other side of the world, whose support and guidance through the process last time let me fumble my way through on my own this time. 

Oh, the places you'll go.