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Monday, September 24, 2012

Our Smart Car

As shown here, doors can be a
real problem with smart cars.
I've always wanted to name our car.

I've been bitching and carrying on about our Pajero for years. Its old, its noisy and its roadworthiness is dubious at best. It sucks in fuel like vacuums suck up dirt and is heavily addicted to oil.

Over the years the only redeeming feature of our car has been its ability to transport the whole family from point A to point C - with point B usually a service station. Of course, two kids ago it stopped being able to do even this. I don't really blame the car for its lack of seats: I blame how irresistible I am when my wife is drinking Southern Comfort.

Our car is essentially a dump on wheels.

Which is why the problem has always been the only names we've been able to come up with we couldn't repeat in front of the kids.

But all that has changed as of Saturday because our Pajero effectively named itself - from this day forth our car shall be known as Kitt.

It started when we arrived at Tin Can Bay to spend the day riding bikes and eating sausages and ice blocks with the kids. I should have known pulling a small trailer full of our gear would have been too much for the old girl. Within minutes of arriving things started to go wrong.

"Let's go!" I called at the kids and opened the back door of the car.

 And my fingers nearly tore clear off my hand.

The handle wouldn't open the door. I pulled it and reefed it and hit it and thumped it and cussed it. I locked the door and then unlocked it again. Nothing. That was one closed door.
Tch Tch. More door trouble with a smart car.

Which was a shame because its the door four of the kids use to get in and out of the car. The other door is blocked by the baby seat.

"I'm glad we brought the bikes," said Tracey, shaking her head at our disaster-prone car. "We might need them to ride home on."

But as inconvenient as a jammed back door was, Tracey brought up the real concern we had.

"What if we're in an accident before we get it fixed? The kids won't be able to get out."

Which was when our smart car decided to come up with a solution all by itself.

While I was busy cussing at the unopenable door our car allowed Miss3 to break a latch on a back window, making it unlockable, so the kids can now crawl out the new 'emergency exit' in the event of an accident.

What a clever car our Kitt is.

And best of all, I, by association, shall be The Knight Rider.





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About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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