We were on our way down to Shelly Beach, to a holiday given to us by a friend in her flat, with 3 young kids in the car. Artist was 7, Wild One was 3 and Wildest One was 1 year old. It was winter, freezing cold, and the car would simply not heat warm enough.
I can’t remember whether we took my old Toyota or Hubbs’ old Jetta (both cars have since been stolen), but the cold came in. We had been driving all night, and it was nearing 4am, and both he and I were exhausted and could not carry on.
We found a petrol station in the abandoned-looking tiny town of Warden, and woke up the pump attendant. He woke up the manager, who helped us with fuel and tracking down a Bed and Breakfast – who opened their doors for us in the middle of the night. We shivered our way warm in that little place, five of us in 4 beds with Wildest One snuggled between us, in her little baby boots (too cold to take them off – houses here are not set up for winter, the insulation is up to nothing).
The next morning the owners had some lovely English breakfast for us all, and we hung out a little, and Hubbs did what he did best and made friends of them both. They had children too. There seemed to be something wrong with our car (I think it was a flicker that had popped), so the owner (Rafe) organized a mechanic to fix it.
While we were waiting, we all had a glorious time with these new friends. But the one thing that lingers most in the memory is the image of those two little boys, my Wild One and Rafe’s little 5-year-old, sitting in Rafe’s “bakkie” van in the front seat listening to the CD, over and over and over again… bopping on the seat as though it were a trampoline, and singing along at the top of their little kiddie voices,
“If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,
never make a pret-ty woman your wife…”
It was hilarious. 🙂