Tag Archives: car

1752. A winning day

Don’t ask me how he knew, but he knew alright. Charlie knew that this was his winning day. He didn’t know exactly how, but he knew it deep down in his bones.

He had always been intuitive; like when he knew his brother had passed away before the phone call even came through. Perhaps today he would win a lot of money in the lottery. Or perhaps he’d win the trailer load of groceries that the local Rotary Club had organized; after all he’d taken two tickets in the raffle. Perhaps he had been given the winning voucher from the local electronic supply shop; the promotion had said “Spend $20 and go in the draw to win”. He already knew how he’d spend it; at least how he’d spend part of it. He wanted a rice cooker, and a deep fryer, and a hand held whizzy stick-thing that pureed stuff. Not being sure as to which scenario was going to make his lucky day simply added to the excitement!

And then… as he looked out the window, two cars slowly passed the front of his house. One was a shiny new bright red car. Both drivers slowed down and looked at his house. They stopped just up the road. One of the drivers got out and went to the other driver’s window. They spoke for about five minutes.

During that time, Charlie was beside himself. He’d won a car! He simply knew! There were a number of competitions he’d entered over the previous month to win a car, and at last it had come to fruition. Oh lucky, lucky day!

The two cars were turning around now. They began to slowly approach Charlie’s house. He knew! He knew! Don’t ask me how he knew, but he knew alright. Charlie opened his front door wide as a welcoming gesture. His heart was in his mouth. The cars were moving so slowly. They almost came to a stop. And then they went right passed.

Repeat of Story 386: Marietta plans a murder

(This is the sixth story in a week or so of repeats. “Marietta plans a murder” first appeared on this blog on 31 October 2014.)

Don’t get me wrong. Marietta wasn’t an evil person. When she decided to murder her husband it was out of the purest of intentions. He had been unfaithful.

Marietta had always vouched for the sanctity of marriage. She couldn’t understand why all these participants in broken marriages insisted on divorce. Hadn’t they vowed to remain faithful unto death?

Now that her husband had committed infidelity after infidelity she knew exactly how these other people felt. Divorce was not good enough. She had promised unto death and that’s what she was going to do.

But how best to go about it and not get caught? Poison? The autopsy would discover it. Gunshot? It would have to be in self-defence, and that would be too difficult to set up.

She would simply (after searching it online) “undo the brakes” of his car. And that’s what she did! He drove to the pub every Thursday evening over a wild and winding road. Thursday was perfect. That was the evening she attended her prayer meeting. She could feign distress, with a touch of hysteria, when the sad news was phoned through.

She drove off in her car for the prayer meeting. It was with a certain amount of nervous excitement.

“Goodbye, darling,” she waved. “Goodbye!”

All that can be said is that great minds think alike. Marietta and her husband were suited to each other down to the ground.

May she rest in peace.

A whinge, a whine, a whimper, and a wine

“Whinge” is such a good word that I thought I’d use it. This posting is a slight departure from the norm; hence, I haven’t given it a sequential number as per usual.

Whinge: Am I the only one on Word Press who has to log in MANY A TIME in order to give a like or a comment? It’s driving me crazy – and in fact stops me from liking and commenting. It’s not everyone’s site that does it, just some. What an annoying thing! What is its meaning? It’s only fairly recently begun to do this. I’ve cut down on the number of blogs I read, like, and comment on daily to save time and frustration.

Whine: I’ve almost finished my aim for 2019: to compose 153 pieces for the piano. I chose 153 because that’s the number of piano pieces in Béla Bartók’s Mikrokosmos. Of course, they’re not exactly up to Bartok’s standard, but I still dunnit. Despite some helpful and kind suggestions from a couple of readers, I still don’t know what to do with them. I hate to foist 153 piano pieces on my unsuspecting half dozen or so faithful followers. Even if a piano piece was surreptitiously snuck into a posting once a week it would take 3 years, by which time I’ll possibly be in a hole in Kopuatama. (Kopuatama, for those not well-read, is the name of the local cemetery). So I’m going to post the music in blocks of fifteen now and again, provided no one feels compelled to listen to them out of a sense of friendship and loyalty. Relatively low self-esteem was always one of my finer hallmarks – which probably accounts for the fact that I’ve only once sent my brilliant post-modern novel manuscript to a publisher. (I think the publisher has since died, and can only hope that my MS was the cause of it).

One of these is Bartók

Whimper: Last Spring (it’s a cold Autumn here in New Zealand now) I was unable to find any globe artichoke plants in any plant shop. Being particularly partial to artichokes, and given the exorbitant expense of buying canned artichoke hearts, I planted a packet of artichoke seeds. Artichokes require a coldish winter. I had 32 seeds germinate, and planted then around the garden. They are a lovely structural plant anyway with gorgeous thistle-like edible purple flowers. The artichokes have flourished. Each single plant takes up several square yards. I’ve never had them so big. Imagine 32 gigantic plants. There’s no room even for a humble carrot, and I haven’t the heart to pull any out! Roll on Spring with its promised feast! I’ll just nip out now and get you a photo!

Here is one of 32!

Wine: My car died just on 12 months ago. Death came suddenly and in the middle of a busy highway. I phoned the Automobile Association and in an effort to ascertain where exactly I was I opened the car door and the dog leaped out onto the road. Picture, if you will, me on the phone (the only time I’ve ever used my mobile) dashing between roaring articulated trucks and trailers in an effort to catch the dog. We are both lucky to be alive. The whinge part however, is that I haven’t yet been able to replace the car! I was to be paid for months of work this past week, but the money has not yet arrived. Getting a car is top of my list, as I’ve been borrowing an old truck every time I run out of wine groceries. Contemporary used cars seem to come in 50 shades of grey – I will certainly be looking for something more titivating than 50 shades of grey (colour being the only thing I know about automobiles).

My dead car being taken away

That concludes this collection of whinges, whines, whimpers, and wine. Thank you for reading, and please feel welcome to leave comments – whether sharp or blunt.

1511: A story to advance cultural understanding

I from another country but I visit as tourist. I do not understand some of the strange way you foreigners have things. I will furnish you with example.

My wife and me we hire car to see the views around the country. We see big waterfall and wife photographed. We see other things. And when we pass through town the car ran over a cat. Of course I stopped and picked up cat and took it to house next to road.

“Oh,” screamed the lady. “That’s my Fluffy. Oh my poor Fluffy! You’ve killed my Fluffy!”

Very emotional lady. I thought it might have been the cat belonging to the house, which is why I came to ask if we could take it back to motel to cook for dinner.

1506: Bernard’s disorganized wife

Bernard’s wife does nothing other than complain. She’s a stay-at-home mother, which is a luxury most of us can ill afford. She complains that there are not enough hours in a day. Not enough hours in the day for what? Lounging around watching the soaps while the kids are at school?

Being a well-paid consultant I asked her to write down what she does in a day, so improvements can be made and then she’ll have no reason to complain. Here is a typical Wednesday – or so she claims:

Get the kids ready for school – 1 hour
Tidy the house – 2 hours
Prepare meals- 1 hour
Get the groceries – 2 hours
Do necessary odd jobs, e.g. take the car to get fixed etc. – 2 hours
Mow the lawn and weed the garden – 1 hour
Do the laundry – 1 hour sometimes 2
Pick up the kids from school – 1 hour, sometimes less, sometimes more
Take the dog for a walk and feed the dog and cat – 30 minutes

The list for Wednesday went on and on, but I won’t bore you with more details.

Look, I said to her, just get yourself organized and stop the complaining. Do some of these jobs on another day of the week.

1407. Fate in a flash!

Kelvin Farquhar entered every competition he could lay his hands on. Businesses were forever running promotions with attractive rewards and prizes. Kelvin had never won a thing. He would love to win a car. But what he most wanted was to win was a house. Once a month the Heart Foundation ran a raffle for a house!

Kelvin Farquhar didn’t have that much money. There was no way he could afford a house on his meagre income. His old car rattled and puffed. When that stopped he didn’t quite know what he was going to do. Winning a house would help him get by.

There’s no doubt that Fate can change everything in a flash! Today was the day the house draw took place. Would the phone ring? Kelvin Farquhar had worked out that they would probably phone the winner in the afternoon, so he drove to get the groceries in the morning.

On the way his car overheated. It was no good for anything after that except towing away. And he never won the house either.

1394. Winner of a car

Travis was excited, but worried. He had entered a win-a-car competition at the supermarket. It was a promotion. And although he had never won anything in the past, at least entering automatically by buying $50 worth of groceries gave him a chance. Indeed! It was to be his lucky day!

This was the day the keys to the car were to be handed over. It was a bright red car. Travis had already seen it for it was parked near the entrance door to the supermarket so that everyone would see it and spend at least $50.

So Travis was excited! Why he was worried was because the Press would be there taking photos and he didn’t really know what to wear. He wondered if he should get a nice pair of trousers with a brand new pullover. Modest in colour – not too bright and not too dull; casual yet appropriate.

So he did that; he went to town and got himself fitted out. It was more expensive than he thought it would be, but not to worry.

Now all he needed was for his name to be pulled out of the hat.

1364. Stella’s foul mood

Stella was in a foul mood. For several weeks she had planned her little Easter Sunday party for her daughter, son-in-law and their three young children.

They came to lunch quite often, but this Easter Sunday would be special because… because it was Easter Sunday. Stella prepared the menu meticulously. She spent hours painting and decorating eggs for the children. And now all was ready!

Early in the morning, Stella wandered her garden hiding chocolate eggs for the children to find. She had prepared the vegetables. The rack of lamb was on the bench ready for the oven. For dessert they were to have blackberry pie with her special homemade honey ice cream!

Late morning Stella’s daughter phoned. Arnie the son-in-law was feeling off-colour. Could Stella come and pick her and the kids up? But Stella’s car was broken down. I thought I told you. Not to worry, said the daughter, we weren’t that keen to come today anyway as they had been invited to a friend’s place and Arnie was keen to go there. Not to worry, said Stella.

Stella didn’t quite know what to do. She went over to the neighbours on the left hand side who had two young children. Would they like to come and hunt for Easter eggs in her garden? We’re not Christians and we don’t believe in all that stuff.

Stella went over to the middle-aged neighbours on the right hand side. Would they care for some chocolate eggs? Chocolate is chocolate, they said. They came. They hunted for the eggs. They stayed for a delightful rack of lamb and a blackberry pie. A convivial time was had by all. They had recently won millions in the lottery. Their win was a secret. They bought Stella a brand new car.

1362. Flora’s foul mood

Flora was having a bad day. She lived in a house set on a sharp corner of a busy road. She hadn’t slept a wink. All night, well at least until 3 o’clock, teenage hoons were hooning* with speeding, burnouts, doughnuts, and screeching tyres around the corner next to her house. After that she was so angry she couldn’t sleep.

When she did rise she discovered she was out of toothpaste and cleaned her teeth using salt. She burnt the toast at breakfast, tripped over the cat, and couldn’t find her reading glasses for a good ten minutes.

There was only one thing for it; she would do what she always did when in a foul mood: she would get out her book of recipes from The Australian Women’s Weekly and cook something wonderful that she had never tried before. Flora settled on making an Apricot Sour Cream Pie. She had all the ingredients in the house already, and it looked delicious.

First she made the base with crumbled cookie crumbs and melted butter. While that was cooling in the fridge she prepared the filling – with apricots, sugar, flour, eggs, sour cream and so on. She sprinkled the uncooked masterpiece lightly with nutmeg, and placed it in a moderate oven.

Thirty minutes later she removed the pie and sat it on top of the bench. The smell was glorious! Flora’s foul mood had disappeared.

That was when a hoon’s car left the road, flew through the air, and plunged onto Flora’s front lawn. Taking the pie, Flora scurried out to investigate. It was the most satisfying pie she had ever baked.

* Hoons and hooning are common Australian/New Zealand terms meaning teenage louts with cars!

1278. Yes, Sir

“The thing is,” said Dad… He was driving along in the car.

“The thing is,” said Dad… He was teaching his three kids in the back seat how to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. Mother was happily dozing.

“The thing is,” said Dad, “if you’re stopped by a traffic cop for speeding or something, just call them ‘Sir’. They like that. They’ll give you a warning and tell you to drive on safely. It works every time. Just call them ‘Sir’ – they’re as thick as a mud in a Washington swamp.”

“What’s this? Why am I getting pulled over by a cop? Kids, here’s your chance to see how what I said works.”

“Good afternoon, SIR.”

“You were speeding. Doing 70 in a 50 area.“

“Oh but, SIR, it’s Sunday and there’s little traffic about.”

“That makes no difference. Here’s your fine.”

The cop got in his car and drove off.

“Kiddies,” said Mother, now awake, “I want you to block your ears. Daddy’s about to say something you shouldn’t hear.”