My sympathies my friend, You've no manner of luck at all!

Did I mention I crashed my car? Oh right I did. Let me continue the story then!

So on Tuesday last, I decided to drive my mum's car (el shito buckito). Problem - car won't start. The immobilisor wasn't responding and after I took to it with a screwdriver discovered it was minus an important ingredient to success - a battery. After some frustration I decide to ring for a cab since I really can't afford to miss work with a looming excess.

Canberra Cabs have instituted a new fully automated Stupidmotron(c) telephone booking service. "Would you like a cab... if so say...'Yes'" Which worked fine until...
"Do you live at ...not my address...if so say...'Yes'" After which I was put indefinetely on hold till I hung up. I then tried Elite Cabs who use the same system, but thankfully a telephone operator was able to correct my address and send the cab.

Fortunately, or not, by then my Mum had reached work and I was officially very late for work, so I rang Mum who informed me that the faulty car immobiliser had a functioning baby brother I hadn't been informed of the birth of. Cab canceled, put in 15 odd litres of fuel, go to work.

That evening I kept Steph some company and despite the hilarity of Ron Wilson: Bus Driver! my troubles would continue. In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, a thirsty V6, 15 litres odd of fuel, and most importantly, a faulty fuel gauge and fuel warning indicator light combined to inconvenient effect. My car rolled to a stuttering stop on the Monaro highway, right beside the roundabout to Chisholm. Annoyed but not beaten, I rolled up my sleeves and jogged to the nearest petrol station.

However, In the newspaper the previous day there had been a small article that caught my attention but failed to register fully in the short term memory lobe. The underground petrol tanks of the Chisholm BP had sprung a leak, emptying a large amount of fuel into the neighbouring stormwater drainage forcing the excavation and temporary closure of said servo. The leak had been fixed however, and it would be back to business as usual shortly. But not shortly enough.

I was to discover this after a few minutes of earnest jogging. Consigned to admit my failure at affecting self-help I called the NRMA. HOWEVER... this fine evening, of all evenings, the NRMA computer systems had decided to have an early shower, and without my membership number handy, nor my car registration nearbye (as I don't know my mothers car's rego) I was forced to forego immediate call up, not to mention that the wait on assistance would be 90 minutes! (this is at 2am...) Resigned I placed my faith in my friends and Adam Hawkins was rudely awakened but soon appeared at my side to ferry me to and from the next nearest petrol station. I hope he performed well in his job interview some short hours later.Having faced enough troubles for one night, I hurried home for some sleep. Hurried a little too fast infact, as I was soon to discover.

The next morning I drove to work, worked hard, and returned to my car - the mobile, often stationary, scene of my past and present angst. Enter key, no ignition. Odd. No imobilisor light either. Doubly odd. Is that my headlight switch turned to the On position? Oh dear. Not to worry sath I, get ye to the mechanickee! I return from the nearbye car dealership with jump start kit wielding assistant in hand. Turn key, engine turns, but not starting! Methinks ye have a problem, sath he.

In my rush to the land of nod, I had left the headlights on. Unlike my own car, the holden doesn't beep alarmingly at you when you leave them on and remove the key. I had already left them on in the cinema carpark previously(when I saw Brokeback Mountain... when was that?) but she reminded me to turn them off. 5 hours of sleep wasn't enough time to run the battery dead, but another 8 hours at work after only a short drive to recharge did the trick. But that was only the beginning and the lesser of my worries. When the power cut, the immobiliser, thinking it was being improperly tampered with or bypassed, switched from Stun to Kill. And kill it did. Fortunately, as both mechanic and NRMA guy (who arrived shortly after at my request, thankfully successful this time!) informed me, there was a little secret immobiliser key that would repair the damage, Do you have it? I stared blankly into space. Key? Phone calls to both parents later would reveal no Stockwell had ever heard of such a key, nor knew of its existence let alone possession. The only option left then was to drill the bolt and hotwire the immobiliser to bypass, since a new key and/or unit can no longer be purchased for our ancient motorised carriage unit.

The next day I retrieved the car, which now beeps annoyingly for 5-10 minutes after each start, because the NRMA guy or mechanic appears to have misplaced, or at any rate not returned, my immobilisor remote. I still have the one with out a battery.

Then - a weekend in Sydney intervened, then TODAY.

I told Luke today as he came to learn the ropes at the nursery, "Luke, I'll be happy it I return to my car and it starts!". It did, but I couldn't help but laugh out loud and bear a huge grin for the rest of the day after returning to the car park and thinking...

"Is that my car? The one with the rear quarter window smashed out!?"

But it's not true to say I have no-manner of luck! For what was most important to me remained intact in the cabin - my expensive football boots and my leeds shirt! In fact nothing of value had been removed at all! Or perhaps I haven't realised what it is yet!