Pump action

A neck-breaking encounter with a camouflaged pothole landed me at a tyre-repair shop at a Hagley Park Road gas station, last week.

Smitty, the ageing fellow charged with the task of repairing punctured tyres when all other workmen are busy, hobbled over from across the road where he had been sitting on an overturned bucket.

"Wha mi can do for yuh now, sah?" he asked.

Smitty's eyes looked tired and he seemed annoyed by the prospect of having to perform a job.

I related to him my unfortunate experience and he looked down at the wheel.

"Oh," he said.

Silence.

I asked him if he could fix it.

"Yeah, ahm, gimmi bout 15 minute. I soon come back," he said, and without waiting for a response, the elderly man walked away and up the road.

After checking with other people who worked at the gas station and finding out that Smitty was indeed the only person available to attend to the flat tyre, I decided to wait for him to return. I would have to get it fixed anyway, so I figured I may as well just get it done there.

It was an unusually hot morning and an apparently busy one at that gas station. I was standing in the limited shade of small tree at the very back of the place, waiting for Smitty to return. There were large trucks, cars and even a packed minibus waiting in line to receive gas.

I heard a low rumble. Driving into the gas station via an area clearly marked 'exit', was a very old, brown Mercedes-Benz. It was an early model car, perhaps going back 30 years. It was a long vehicle, the back of which was pointy, making it look like the tail of a fish.

Constant grin

In the driver's seat of the car was an elderly woman sporting very large, dark sunglasses. She seemed short. Her head was mere inches above the steering wheel. The woman had a constant grin which exposed very white teeth.

Now even though she was driving in the wrong direction, the woman seemed oblivious to the confusion she was creating.

Honk, honk! Beep!

The drivers of the cars attempting to leave were not pleased and tried in vain to alert the elderly woman of her folly. The woman, though, was no pushover and, in response to their constant horn-honking, proceeded to stick her left hand out the window and made a gesture with her fingers that summarised what she thought of the lot of them.

A young woman standing in line to purchase a lottery ticket nearby, had a look of shock on her face when she spotted the driver's gesture.

Eventually, and somehow without incident the elderly driver pulled up to a gas pump and got out of the car. Still wearing the sunglasses, she walked behind the car and up to the attendant, a young woman.

"I having some trouble with the car, you see. I wonder if you could check the engine for me," she said. The attendant smiled and pointed her to where I was standing.

"Just park over there," the attendant said.

The elderly driver sat back in the car and restarted the engine. Rumble, rumble.

There was a man standing in front of her car so the woman honked the horn.

Beep!

The man held his hand up and and pointed to two young boys walking over.

Beep!

The woman honked the horn again.

"I say I waiting fi cross mi pickney dem!" the man shouted.

Beep!

The woman held her hand on the horn, never losing her teeth-exposing grin.

The two boys were just in front of the car when the woman stepped on the gas, missing the second boy by only centimetres. The man who had been standing there shouted curses at the woman who, judging by her grin, didn't care much.

She steered the car to where I was standing, shut it off and hopped out. The female attendant walked over.

After some amount of struggle, they got the bonnet open and started fiddling around with the engine.

A tall man with fair complexion sauntered over.

"Wait! Aunty, you again?" he said.

The woman looked at him, still grinning.

"Then if I'm standing here, it must be me," she said. The man looked confused for a few seconds, then chuckled.

"Cho Aunty, man! Nuh do mi so, man," he laughed.

The attendant looked up from the engine and told the driver everything was more or less fine. The only thing needed, she said, was a bit of water in the radiator.

"Oh dear," the driver exclaimed. "I must drive over to Jeffrey and let him put some in there for me. Anyway, thank you," she said as the attendant closed the bonnet.

"Alright, Aunty!" the man said.

"Yuh take care on the road now and nuh meck dem young bwoy deh bad yuh up pon di road!"

The woman grinned.

"Not at all! I'm a devil!" she said.

She sat back in the car and gunned the engine. Everyone nearby seemed on edge as we realised she was about to reverse the car into an area crowded with vehicles.

"Can you direct me out, Sir?" the driver asked of the man with the fair complexion.

"Yes, Aunty," he replied.

Rumble, rumble.

"Alright, teck yuh time!" the man said, signalling with his hand for the woman to back up.

Smitty returns

Just then, the long awaited Smitty returned with a box of milk in hand. Taking a break from slurping on a straw, Smitty said, "Alright, ready fi yuh now."

I didn't say anything as the man proceeded to attend to the wheel. My attention was focused squarely on the unfolding drama before me. When the man told the elderly driver to take her time, she seemed to have misinterpreted the remark and instead, landed a heavy foot on the gas pedal, sending her and the elongated vehicle careening backward.

There was a loud shout as nearly everyone nearby tried to get the woman to stop before she hit a car parked at the gas pump behind her.

"Oy, woman! Stop! Stop!" They shouted.

Screech! Clunk! The woman's car bumped lightly into the fender of the parked car, the driver of which hopped out to look. The woman though, all the time grinning broadly never missed a beat. With no change of facial expression, she stuck her hand out to wave thank you to the man directing her, whose direction, by the way, she completely ignored. Then, she changed gear and moved off, this time in the right direction.

As Smitty took care of the flat tyre on my car, I watched as the old woman manoeuvred the long Mercedes-Benz out of the gas station's entrance and down the wrong way of the busy roadway.

Where should Robert go next? Let him know at robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

Feedback

The following are feedback letters to last week's edition of Roving with Lalah.

Dear Robert,

Mmm ... I don't think Ripley's would have believed this one!

- Glenn Smith

Dear Robert,

This is my favourite line: "Yuh have a evil woman who look at it and say how is not no sign. She say is dig di yam dig bad. Well, I want to know how di yam could dig so to look like mankind!" As always, good job, Lalah.

- CS

Dear Robert,

Your yam story is interesting. I am not superstitious but I would not touch it with an axe or shovel.

- Marcus Garvey ll

Dear Robert,

Oh boy, even yam begging for mercy in these troubling times! This is indeed a phenomenal piece of natural art. To me, the head of it looks like that of a lamb (of God). Wow!

- Shari