Wheels of misfortune

We planned to spend the weekend diving in Sodwana Bay. However, car problems intervened.

Leaving later than planned on Friday night, darkness quickly descended upon us. Driving from Ingwavuma to Sodwana in daylight is difficult. It involves lots of swerving to avoid potholes and cattle. Driving at night requires lightening reactions (think skiing at night by torchlight). Mary gave a clear warning the need to drive slowly. Then she fell asleep. She was awoken not many minutes later with an almighty thud. Henry had hit a wide and deep pothole travelling at c. 90 km/h. Result = burst tire, broken wheel rim + angry Mary.

As a form of penance, I got out of the car and began to change the tire. Worryingly the spare looked almost equally flat. We drove the rest of the journey extremely slowly and, mercifully, we managed to get to Sodwana. There we were able to inflate our ‘spare’ tire.

Having dived in Sodwana Saturday morning, we set about trying to buy a new wheel. We were reliably informed that we would need to go to Huhluwe – a distance of 80km. Off we went. The atmosphere in the car was remarkably cordial. Again Mary reiterated the importance of not driving too fast. Another pothole accident would leave us with three tires.

Guess what happened next. No, we did not hit another pothole. Hooray Henry. Well done. Except… with all my focus on the road, I hadn’t spotted the petrol gauge. Half way towards Huhluwe I suddenly did notice our fuel ‘situation’. In a colour, it was ‘red’. Then how to tell Mary. I longed to be back a week in time faced only by a black mamba.

Having uttered a prayer to the patron saint of petrol stations (St Shell?) I briefed Mary on the situation. Silence descended. At a loss for better ideas I decided that we would have to drive on until the car conked out. 4km later the car was conking its heart out.
And then a wonderful moment. The last revolutions of our fuelless car brought us into the tiniest of towns. Surely they must have petrol. Please St Shell!

Hallelujah. No they did not have a petrol station. But they did have a lady selling ‘green’ and ‘red’ containers of petrol. Which did we want? As on ‘Who wants to be a millionaire?’ we decided to consult the audience. The locals surrounding us thought we should go for green. And so we did.

Now how to get the green petrol into the car. Our petrol vender had a ready made solution. Out came a broken vuvuzela. It acted as an excellent funnel.

Five minutes later we were continuing our journey. I felt more content than Lawrence must have done after crossing the thingamy dessert to attack the Turks.

In Huhluwe we found a tyre place (of sorts). We then headed for an evening game drive at Huhluwe National Park; we stayed the night in a local backpackers and enjoyed a game drive in the morning. Still no leopard. But we had a contented cat (albeit minus a few lives) at the steering wheel.