Three of us have all piled into the car for the seventh time today, this time to collect Squiggle from tap dancing. I turn the key and there is an uncooperative clunk and then a funny whirring sound. I move the gear lever thing back to “Park” and try again (It’s automatic transmission, which is apparently is very expensive to fix, say the mechanics as they suck in their breath and shake their heads with £ signs in their eyes). This time, there is an interesting jolt and again, the mysterious whirring sound.
After two more goes, I admit defeat – it doesn’t take much – and ring Hub, who’s enroute from trampolining with Scooter.
Hub duly arrives home, having made a detour to collect Squiggle.
“Was it in “Drive”?” he asks
“Well, yes, but then I tried it again, when it was in “Park” too”
“Well, it should start, then,” says Hub, slightly puzzled, “I’ll give it a go”
“I thought it might be the gears” I say, sharing my layman’s opinion of the problem.
“Hmmm,” Hub says grimly, as he turns the ignition and the car fails to start.
“That’s what it did with me. What can it be?” I ask, as Hub solemly gets out of the car.
“It’s got not fuel, Lou” Hub says, grinning.
“Are you sure?” I ask
“The fuel gauge is on zero”
“Is it? I thought that you filled it up”
“Why would I be filling it up, you’re driving it?”
“Um, yeeess…. there is that,” I concede.
“Anyway, didn’t you notice the fuel gauge?” he enquires.
“Um, well, I didn’t really look at it” I admit, somewhat sheepishly.
“What about the fuel light?” Hub continues,
“Oh, is that what it was?” I say, brightly in the manner of someone who has made a small but important discovery, “I thought it was the temperature light telling me that it was cold outside.” and then, because further elucidation seems necessary, I add “I did wonder about that, since it’s not actually all that cold out.”