Five minutes after waving a cheery goodbye to a mate who'd come for a quick cuppa, there was a more subdued follow-up phonecall.
'Umm, you know that unmade unfinished very steep road by your house that we're not supposed to use because of carjackers? I broke down on it. The clutch cables gone.'
Second doubletake. My tow rope - one of those never-leave-a-Kenyan-house-without-it implements - like your house keys in UK - is still in the back of Tom's car where we dumped it after rescuing him from the four foot ditch.
'But BrokenDownFriend where's your tow rope?'
'Ummm, its still in the back of the car of the mutual friend we towed to the pub quiz a few months ago. Only he's moved back to UK again now.'
So I and Ronald the handyman bowled down the forbidden road. We stopped another twenty cars as they steamed over the hill. Kindly faces adopted that 'ooh yes expression'.
'Tow rope, yes we have got one. Only its....(elsewhere)'
So we left Ronald guarding the stranded car while we scurried off to find a mechanic. 'Bring your tow rope' we said firmly as he got in the car.
'No, no, I'll just drive it here.'
And sometimes can-do attitudes overcome all. Arrived at the stranded car on the unmade one in three road, the mechanic just reversed the car downhill and made off, into the distance.
'Is he going to drive it in reverse all the way, 4km, to his garage? And oops, BrokenDownFriend, he was meant to be giving you a lift. Hop in.'
But when we finally made it to the garage, via the sedate route, the gung-ho mechanic was nowhere to be found. Nor the car. After a 10 minute wait still no sign.
Sinking feeling.
So we dropped BrokenDownFriend home and set off home ourselves.
Twenty minutes later, nearing the site of the initial breakdown, we are passed by a pristine, well organised, undented pickup towing a car.
'Look, THEY'VE got a tow rope. Oh look isn't that our mechanic they're towing?'
Leaning out of the window of the towed car, waving cheerily at his good fortune at snagging the one car with a tow rope and a kindly enough owner to give him a 4km tow, is the mechanic and friend's car, which had broken down again two minutes out of sight.
Its a state of mind thing. From the UK perspective, there are many things we could have done better, more directly, more effectively. Joined the AA for one thing.
And yet from the Kenyan perspective, that image of the ebullient mechanic who'd come out without any tools or any equipment of any kind, but had managed to finesse himself a tow home, well that made us roar out loud, and giggle all the way home.
And now I ask you. 'Where is YOUR tow rope?'
'Umm, you know that unmade unfinished very steep road by your house that we're not supposed to use because of carjackers? I broke down on it. The clutch cables gone.'
Second doubletake. My tow rope - one of those never-leave-a-Kenyan-house-without-it implements - like your house keys in UK - is still in the back of Tom's car where we dumped it after rescuing him from the four foot ditch.
'But BrokenDownFriend where's your tow rope?'
'Ummm, its still in the back of the car of the mutual friend we towed to the pub quiz a few months ago. Only he's moved back to UK again now.'
So I and Ronald the handyman bowled down the forbidden road. We stopped another twenty cars as they steamed over the hill. Kindly faces adopted that 'ooh yes expression'.
'Tow rope, yes we have got one. Only its....(elsewhere)'
So we left Ronald guarding the stranded car while we scurried off to find a mechanic. 'Bring your tow rope' we said firmly as he got in the car.
'No, no, I'll just drive it here.'
And sometimes can-do attitudes overcome all. Arrived at the stranded car on the unmade one in three road, the mechanic just reversed the car downhill and made off, into the distance.
'Is he going to drive it in reverse all the way, 4km, to his garage? And oops, BrokenDownFriend, he was meant to be giving you a lift. Hop in.'
But when we finally made it to the garage, via the sedate route, the gung-ho mechanic was nowhere to be found. Nor the car. After a 10 minute wait still no sign.
Sinking feeling.
So we dropped BrokenDownFriend home and set off home ourselves.
Twenty minutes later, nearing the site of the initial breakdown, we are passed by a pristine, well organised, undented pickup towing a car.
'Look, THEY'VE got a tow rope. Oh look isn't that our mechanic they're towing?'
Leaning out of the window of the towed car, waving cheerily at his good fortune at snagging the one car with a tow rope and a kindly enough owner to give him a 4km tow, is the mechanic and friend's car, which had broken down again two minutes out of sight.
Its a state of mind thing. From the UK perspective, there are many things we could have done better, more directly, more effectively. Joined the AA for one thing.
And yet from the Kenyan perspective, that image of the ebullient mechanic who'd come out without any tools or any equipment of any kind, but had managed to finesse himself a tow home, well that made us roar out loud, and giggle all the way home.
And now I ask you. 'Where is YOUR tow rope?'
Great story, I do hope you've remembered to retreive your tow rope!
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