I love my Hubby to the stars and back. But I did not marry him for his mechanical skills.
I knew this about him from our very first date.
That memorable day when he picked me up in his beaten up old Mitsubishi Magna complete with the Australia-shaped coathanger for an antenna.
And for the most part, it’s been endearing.
There are *ahem* moments though, I really wish Hubby at least had some sort of “car intuition”.
You know, a sixth sense when a tyre was flat. Or that a flashing empty tank sign meant that traveling even one more kilometre was also one phone call away from having to call a tow-truck.
So, when we were traveling along Canberra’s main road on Sunday in an attempt to have a family day out, I couldn’t help but notice a flashing sign from the dashboard.
Out of habit, I checked that my seat belt was fastened. Yup.
Then I looked around and saw that all the doors were properly shut. Yup. Yup.
The flashing icon was not one I was familiar with.
And that immediately brought on the panic bells in my head.
Somehow, I managed to stay calm.
“Lovey, that doesn’t look good. I think something’s heating up. Maybe we should just pull over…” I even surprised myself with my even keel tone.
“Yeah, but even if we do…I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for, Grace”
Grace. Grace ???
Using first names meant he was quietly freaking out too.
Out came the car manual. Both looking through it like a “Where’s Wally” book.
Carefully searching for the matching icon that was most likely telling us that our car was about to explode.
It didn’t take us long to find it. And, close to my prediction, it was referring to the engine temperature and the coolant system.
We pulled over near a shopping centre and I lifted the bonnett.
Both of us blankly stared at the engine.
But somehow, something kicked in.
Maybe it was because I have older brothers and male cousins who are heavily into cars and all things mechanical but instinct told me to point to the plastic clear container and to tell Hubby that the problem came from there.
Instinct also told me that we had to be careful in unscrewing the lid.
Of course, Hubby paid no attention to me and the moment he opened it, things started to bubble like a witch’s poisonous brew.
From a distance, I could see that the liquid in the tank was way below the “minimum” level.
Thinking it was water that we needed, off I went into the shops to buy 2 large bottles of water. (Duh!)
Came back to find that Hubby had read that invaluable manual a little more and realised he needed to buy coolant liquid.
Hallelujah ! A proper solution.
So, while I waited in the car with twinlets who were getting antsy and grizzly, Hubby went to the nearest petrol station.
20 minutes later, after finally feeding our thirsty car before it decided to catch on fire, we were back on the road.
Okay, so I didn’t technically fix the car.
But to Hubby I was the hero.
He was so impressed with me. He kept thanking me and lovingly held my hand over the car middle console while he drove.
After ten minutes or so, he suddenly let go.
“Hang on. This is going to be fodder for your blog, isn’t it ?”
You betcha, baby…