Bowral – Sydney (again) – Noosa

Sometimes when it rains, it pours. It’s an old saying – one we’ve all heard - and in my instance this week it’s both literal and figurative. NSW has been under a constant blanket of grey rain clouds, and my resilience has been put through the absolute fucking ringer with four visits to the mechanic and a newly installed set of faulty brakes.

Let me start from the beginning.

It’s been wet. And, even though I partly left Tasmania because the mainland is more temperate, it’s also been cold. I’ve been cycling through my few wooly jumpers quickly, and the flannelette pyjamas have come out of hibernation. In my last entry I mentioned that Del needed a check-up at the mechanic – everything felt fine, she’d just hit her km limit and needed to be looked at. In Huskisson, the mechanic mentioned that she needed new tyres (something they mentioned at the last service too), but that he didn’t have time to do it that day. So instead, I booked her in at the mechanic in Sydney and took her there for a fresh set of wheels. Two mechanic visits in a week was a bit excessive and made my wallet feel thin, but I knew I needed the tyres, especially since I plan on getting to Cairns in a couple of weeks. This part - the getting of new tyres - was the rain. Just wait for the pour….

Anyway, off I trot (or off I roll, rather) to Bowral for a week. Set in the highlands, everything was misty and eerie after the rain, and the trees looked like they’d been set alight with blazing red leaves. To a degree, the town reminded me of Ballarat with its old buildings and newly established wine bars and boutique bookshops. Every day after school I would wander the streets, ducking for cover as soon as it rained in a nearby shop, pub, or the library, and enjoy the cuteness of the town.

Even though the autumn leaves were breathtaking and the morning mist reminded me of home, I was beginning to get a bit sick of the wet weather. Here are some things I will remember to cherish when I finish the van plan:
- Not having to walk outside in the rain to use the toilet
- Ovens
- A fully stocked pantry
- Constant access to fresh tap water
- Hot showers with all my face cleansers and soap right there for easy access
- Dry clothes

As the days passed, I began to notice that there was a weird squeak coming from the van whenever I slowed down or took a corner. At first I wondered if the roof racks were loose, or if it was just a noise created by something rubbing in the rain. I didn’t think much of it. But then when it continued every day growing gradually louder, my anxiety growing too. Del just got new wheels and now when I slow down and turn corners, she makes a noise? Is it the brakes? Suspension? Something was up. So I called the guys in Sydney who worked on her last and they told me to bring her back and show them the sound so that they could figure out what was wrong. Of course, as soon as I got there the squeaking stopped, and the boys said nothing seemed wrong. They were about to send me on my way when they suggested, “Do you want us to take the wheels off again and have a closer look?”

I’m infinitely glad I said yes because as it turned out, the squeaking noise was the sound of 1mm thick brake shoes about to tear. Yay! I took a look myself and could see that they were completely warped and worn. Then and there, the crew put some new brake shoes and drums on the car and I was finally on my way at 1 o’clock. Part of me was a bit frustrated because I was hoping to get to Port Macquarie or Coffs Harbour by the evening, and that was starting to look a bit too hopeful, but hey, at least my brakes work now!

Wrong!

Now, the shit is pouring. Driving through the city I didn’t notice anything at first – I didn’t even feel that the brakes were any different to before, honestly (bad sign number 1). But when I hit the Harbour Bridge and got my speed up to sixty, as soon as a car cut in my lane and I had to slam the brakes on, the whole pedal shuddered. It was this intense vibration underfoot, and my hands started shaking. Being on the Sydney Harbour Bridge in a car where you suddenly know your brakes aren’t safe is unlike anything else. It was like the first time you ever catch a flight, mixed with walking down the road alone at 1am, dipped in the sinking realisation that you’re lost in a foreign country and your phone’s about to die. Utter dread. There was nowhere to stop, nowhere to pull over; I just had to keep driving and hope that no one else made me slam on the brakes. Going as slow as possible, I got across the bridge, found a turn off, and sat in the car crying. Then I realised, pull yourself together, you absolute fool – crying isn’t going to help. So instead, I called the mechanic to explain that he’d given me a car in worse condition than when I’d brought it in.

Immensely apologetic (I feel like this should make a difference, but to be honest, I couldn’t have cared less if they were “sorry”), the mechanics drove out to find me and look at the wheels. They said the brake pedals were installed just fine, but that it looked like the drum could be faulty. They tinkered around, took the car for a spin, and decided that nope – those brakes are fucked (Hmmm why didn’t you decide that when you took the car for its initial test when the drums were first installed?). At this stage, I’m still a shaking mess – one third from stress, one third from fear, and one third from anger. I feel like I’m going to spew. All I want is to be on my way to Cairns, and now the car has to go back to the mechanic for a fourth visit? Do I have gullible written on my head?

I was too tired to argue or point out how fucked the whole situation was – for a moment all I was thinking about was “what am I going to do for the next two nights while I wait for a mechanic to open on Monday?”. So I called Molly again (my saviour) and asked if I could stay with her for a bit. She gave me cuddles and more delicious pastries. She’s the best.

I could say that I’m really lucky. How lucky that I didn’t crash and kill someone! How lucky that I have a wonderful friend to stay with in Sydney! How lucky that everyone is physically fine! But to be honest – fuck lucky. This is some of the worst luck I’ve ever experienced. In a few weeks maybe I’ll say that I’m grateful, or maybe I’ll say that it’s been a learning experience or some shit. But right now, I’m too scared to get behind the wheel, and I have zero trust in mechanics.

A fitting mantra thanks to my Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy socks.

And then to polish it all off, I donked my head really hard on the sharp corner of the van’s boot. Like I said – when it rains, it pours.

So instead of slowly driving up to Queensland and finally escaping the wintery rain, I was stuck in Sydney for two extra nights. To cheer myself up I bought a dirty chai and read my book in a little cafe, and then walked from Potts Point to Marrickville because there was a little glimmer of sunshine and a 2 hour walk felt like it could be soothing. I gave Del a well deserved interior clean out, wiping down the fridge and floors so that when she finally gets back on the road, she’s feeling extra fresh.

By Monday morning, with a cup of coffee in my hands, the mechanics returned for Deloraine and fitted her with new brake drums. They showed me the defective ones which were already completely discoloured from where they’d worn down. It seemed like they weren’t perfectly circular, so with each rotation when I braked, there was a bit that jutted out causing the vibrations. Again, the mechanics were apologetic and for some ungodly reason, the way they chose to say sorry was by giving me a free tank of petrol, new wiper blades, a single can of Jack Daniels and coke, and cleaning my headlights. I feel a bit like a pirate bartering on the high seas with whatever forms of payment were available to them.

We set off, very tentatively at first, and after about an hour of driving decided that the new brake drums were indeed safe. Yay! Since then, my phone has been run off its hot little feet with calls from schools in the far north, asking for me to come by for a week or so of work. In the single stint between Sydney and Port Macquarie, I had four schools ring me to check my availability! Teacher shortage working in my favour. I pulled over a couple of times and filled in my diary, now looking healthy with a balance of exploring and working.

In the last couple of days I’ve had three extended phone calls lasting over 1 hour each, listened to 4 hours of Viola Davis’ memoir (a fabulous recommendation from a friend), played the Race Car Blues album by Slowly Slowly in full twice, and been overtaken by one aggressive truck driver. I won’t lie and say I’m doing perfectly and that everything is great - a latch in the back of the van broke (sad) but I was able to fix it in a Bunnings car park (yay). I have a tension headache from the car troubles (sad) but a nice beer and a swim seems to fix it (yay). Aunty Cathy’s cashew and rice salad is super easy and delicious (yay) but now it’s all gone (sad). Now I’m going to yeet it up the coast. Cairns, here I come!