The Breakdown

BANG.

The van lost power amidst the screaming fury of the four-lane southbound highway through Brisbane. My eyes darted back and forth between dash cluster and mirrors. There was no power. My finger found the hazard light button and with momentum washing away, I sought the uncomfortable safety of the concrete shoulder. My own shoulders slumped.

With knowing disbelief, I put the gear stick in park, each step towards ‘P’ a horrible soundscape of grinding gears. The engine still rumbled; I saw no lights on the dash warning me of catastrophe. I tried reverse – a piercing vibration of broken metal teeth; selected drive, more of the same spinning and grinding. I dropped back to park and turned the key, the engine fell silent, giving way to the rising and falling, ever constant bustle of a busy arterial road.

My friend Prema was asleep in the back, she heard the commotion and came forward as I was nosing silently into the side concrete highway barrier. I explained what had just happened, she gave commiserations and we both sat in confused silence on what to do next.

The driver’s side door aligned perfectly with the outside line boundary of the highway. The van shook with each passing vehicle. I looked ahead and saw a sign with a phone number in case of breakdowns, called it and was put through to a highway service representative.

A camera, somewhere, on a towering pole near an overpass panned through the unrelenting current of traffic and located the bus-like automobile, hazard lights on, pushed up on the side of the asphalt. The operator exclaimed that he found me and a complementary tow truck would arrive in an hour or so. I sat in the driver’s seat, crossed my arms over the steering wheel, and lowered my head in surrendered dissatisfaction. Prema and I talked about what we could do while I rested in this position, my voice muffled by emotion, we would have to organize a mechanic to repair the van and somehow get back home at the same time. Thoughts of buses, trains, and tow trucks swam through our minds. Things seemed lost.

The tow truck arrived. As soon as I got out to greet him, he asked that we move into the truck cabin, leaving the van key in the ignition.

There are parts in our life where we need the help of others, where we can go no further without external support. I had prided my life and its independence and oft gotten by solving my own problems and making things on my own. I had cultivated a belief within myself that this trait is admirable, strong, and full of willpower. This is true, and yet, a rigid setpoint of independence makes needing another difficult. I must give way and sacrifice my own ego in these times. I needed my friend Prema in this situation, she helped me clear my mind and gave me a shoulder to cry on.

The truck took us and the van to a nearby service station. Both Prema and I made phone calls and google searches to find the best transmission mechanic for this sensitive European machine. There were many rejections. Either the mechanic did not have a hoist big enough, or there would be a wait of at least two weeks before someone would even be able to look at it. I widened the search radius and found a Mercedes dealership in Lismore, called the number, and found they would be able to look at it in a few days. After deliberation with Prema, I decided to send the van to Lismore. The next tow truck came in a few minutes and before we knew it, we were all travelling away from the bustling metropolis on the highway south.

The driver’s name was Matt, he was in his fifties and loved a chat. My gratitude promoted reciprocal conversation, and we shared stories on the long and expensive journey. Both Prema and I were astounded to discover that he was a multi-millionaire who drove trucks because he wanted to keep working. His fortune amassed from his late father, who, had bought up 80 or so properties all over the world. He left no will, and did not speak of this to Matt or his brother while he was alive. The after-tax amount totaled to around eighty three million dollars to each sibling. When we asked what he is doing with the money, his reply was “not much, invested most of it, bought the house we were renting”.

There is a profound amount of money in this world, and I would love to see it distributed for the benefit of all beings, however, who am I to judge what another does with their money? Matt dropped us off in Mullumbimby so we could transfer our luggage into my other van. I prepared myself for simple and scattered living.