I know, I know. BAD BLOGGER! BAD BLOGGER! Sorry about being MIA for the past month. Life has been a little crazy and the last thing that I have wanted to do is sit down and update this blog. But here I am. Up early, sitting street side in Sydney listen to the roaring traffic rush past me. But alas, I have gone too far.
Let me recap. For those of you who don’t know, I left New Zealand. Even as I type the words I am saddened to say that I am gone. I know that I bitched and complained while I was there, but now looking back I didn’t realize just how good I had it. New Zealand is such an amazing place. Clean streets, minimal traffic and AMAZING PEOPLE. I think that it was the people that will make me want to someday return. I am so thankful for all the relationships that I made and all the kiwi’s that I got to know and love. You will always have a special place in my heart!
But let me touch on the real reason why I have had no time to tell you guys about my adventures…about how I am a fugitive and used car salesman…
As it goes, moving from one country to another is always a bit stressful. And as I always do it, I am working up until the last day before I need to leaving giving less than enough time to get everything done that needs to be completed. But I figured hey, all I need to do is finish work, get Niki safely to the airport, sell the car/have it dismantled and sell off all the camping gear that we aren’t going to need for Australia. EASY!
So where should I begin…ok, how about getting Niki to the airport. That sounds like an easy task. Or maybe it was and I am just challenged enough to make it hard.
So Niki’s flight is due to take off at 9:30 a.m. I need to get him there 2 hours prior to his flight. It takes about 30 mins to get to the airport and we want to play it safe by leaving and hour early. So if you are any good at math that means that we left at 6:30 a.m., which means that I had to get up at 6 (because I had to have my coffee or perhaps my day would have been worse).
Tired and disoriented I agreed to let Niki drive up there because I have only driven our car one other time before (and that was only down the street to park it). Both of us unsure where the airport is and just assuming that there will be signs to get us there, we undoubtedly got lost. Finally pulling off the side of the road to stop a poor, unsuspecting runner to ask for directions we were back on course.
We arrived at the airport with no more issues. Well, not really any issues. The car was out of gas, but I figured that would be easy enough to remedy. I said goodbye (which included collecting $5 for gas because I was completely out of cash) and promised that I would make it safely 3 days later.
Now I was on my own. Being the directionally challenged person that I am, I started my journey home going the wrong way…for about 20 minutes. Finally figuring it out I turned around and started heading where I needed to. I was in desperate need to find a petrol station and fill my very empty car up with gas. About 30 minutes down the motorway I finally pulled off and found my self in the most hillbilly, trucker gas station that I have ever seen. This gas station beats any Midwestern po-dunk gas station. It was lined with trucker after trucker each missing more teeth than the next. Reluctant to get gas I decided that it was only chance to get home and I didn’t want to break down.
So I go to the cashier and say, “Can I get $5 of diesel on number 3?”.
He replied, “Sorry little lady, number three doesn’t have diesel…move around to number 7.” So I handed him my money (remember this was all the money that I had on me) and moved my car. I was quickly greeted by a man that looked like he spent his life working in dirt and drinking his sorrows away at night. He offered to pump my gas for me and I respectfully declined. The reason I sad no was because I knew that we had not paid our diesel tax (NZ makes all owners of diesel cars pay a tax per kilometer that the car is driven. Our car was sold to us about 15, 000 km over the tax that was paid for…we didn’t find out until it was too late…and were for the most part trying to avoid the police for the past 2 months.) and I just wanted to do it myself.
But of course this man, being either a gentleman or really macho, INSISTED that he do it. So I said ok, fill her up with diesel. Where as he replied “your car isn’t diesel…you don’t have a diesel tax sticker”. (We had removed our diesel tax sticker and all diesel insignia from our car so that no one would know.) I tried to convince him that I had no idea what diesel tax was and that I knew the car was diesel. He wasn’t convinced and made me fire the car up to have a listen…
At this point all the truckers were gathered round to see what the problem was. And when I started the car they could all hear that it actually was a diesel. This made my gas station attendant friend very suspicious and he told me to stay put for a minute.
Scared crapless I waited and tried to catch what he was saying to the guy inside. All I could hear was, “hey Bud, I think we have an unpaid diesel tax here. Think you need to call the police and get them to look into it!”
S*%#!!!!! This wasn’t happening to me! Now way. Not today. Not when we made it almost 2 months without getting caught! I had to get away. Doing the only logical thing that I could think of at the time, I put the pedal to the medal and booked it the heck away from that gas station at about 120 km/hr. I was now a fugitive!
Having no clue where I was I just kept driving. Finally I found what appeared to be the motorway. So relieved I hoped on without even thinking twice or reading any signs. Half way on the onramp I had a freak out…I think I got on the wrong freeway (and remember I have NO GAS and NO MONEY). Feeling stuck I rolled down my window and stared trying to get the attention to anyone that would listen to me! Finally a nice guy rolled down his window as well and reassured me that yes, I was heading to Auckland…and with this traffic it would probably take me about 45 minutes to an hour to get there (with no gas).
Needless to say, that 45 on the motor was one of the most horrific driving experiences I have ever had. Staring back and forth between bumper to bumper traffic and my ever decreasing gas level I almost passed out from the nervous anxiety that was running through my veins.
Eventually, after what seemed to be a lifetime, I found my exit and pulled of. Switching gears from drive to neutral to attempt to save gas I finally made it back to my hostel. I arrived on only fumes (someone above was definitely looking out for me). Upon arrival I walked up to my tent (yes I was living in a tent for about a month) to find it completely blown upside down and everything in it tossed about. All my stuff completely scattered and I had only 20 minutes to get showered, eat and make it to work.
It was by far one of the WORST mornings or my life…and when I say one…its because only 2 days later I had another…
But I have written too much. I will tell you the rest tomorrow!!!!
See ya mates!
No comments:
Post a Comment