I get to the servo and start to fill up. Barely notice the van pull in. See a bloke walking away oddly, twisted, and my brain says, "cerebral palsy."
Wrong. When I walk round the car I see him properly. A "Where's-Wally" t-shirt with the arms hanging down over where there should be hands. Bits of metal inside.
He's teaching his kid about checking the oil. He's holding the dipstick with his foot. As I walk past, he slides it back into the engine as smoothly as I could. Another dipstick, drunk, comes out of the servo and tells him that's the wrong way to check the oil. Thinks he's really funny.
I pay my bill. As I fumble with my keys he opens the van door with his foot and climbs in. How does he drive with metal sticks for arms?
I've fuelled up for more hospital trips. Why have I seen this? Should I be inspired? Take hope? Could be I am jealous. He has life under control.
But life just happens. Will I make a fist of it?
Would you like to comment?
Click to add feedback