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The kindness of strangers
• Published: 12/05/2014 at 06:04 AM
• Newspaper section: Life
My faith in humankind has been restored. And all because of a car breakdown.
I was on my way to a press conference way across town last week.
I thought I had chosen my route well when I found myself stuck near Thieves' Market as a result of the PDRC protest march. I decided to do a U-turn there and then, and after getting out of the car to conduct the traffic under the midday Sun, I managed to extricate myself and find a detour. The traffic was rapidly building up, but since I was now going against the flow, I felt relieved.
And then it happened.
Just as I was going over Wan Chat Bridge near Bang Lamphu, my engine stalled.
I thought it was just a misapplied balance of clutch and accelerator, but it happened again, and again.
Right in the middle of the road.
Cars behind me were eager to escape from the traffic build-up, and there I was, blocking their getaway. I got out of the car, trying to put on my best damsel-in-distress look, but all I got was an annoyed glare from the car behind.
In a panic, I looked around and saw the ubiquitous orange vest of a motorcycle taxi driver on the corner of the road. I whooped and clapped my hands at him, calling him over. He looked a bit bewildered, but came nevertheless.
He tried to start my car, but when he realised it wasn’t going to budge, he proceeded to move it to the side of the road, one hand pushing and one hand on the steering wheel, with me providing a few useless nudges from behind.
He looked under the bonnet, but realised it was beyond his basic car-care skills.
I thanked him and brought out my purse to tip him, but he shook his hands, refusing any payment for his services. He then offered to help me find a car mechanic.
My damsel-in-distress look was working!
As it turned out, he was just on an errand in the area and not a local lad, so we set out together in search of a car repair shop. After three stops, we found our man. After giving him directions to our car, we promptly got lost in the alleys off Wisut Kasat Road, finally finding our way back to the car to find the mechanic already waiting, twiddling his fingers.
I gave the motorcycle driver 200 baht for his help, which he at first refused, but then said he would stick around to keep me company.
The mechanic tinkered with the engine, checking tubes and clearing filters, but nothing seemed to work. He eventually gave up, charged me 100 baht for his visit, apologising for not being able to do more.
I then called my Nissan car service centre, and they said the mechanic-at-large could come round, but I would have to wait a while. So I spent a good hour checking my emails, taking selfies, and admiring the old buildings in the area which I normally would not have time to appreciate.
Finally he called, and I explained the nature of the breakdown as best I could. Soon he arrived on his motorcycle, a dark, surly man with a beer gut. He removed his uniform shirt, and set to work, checking first under the bonnet. When he realised it had nothing to do with the engine, he said he would have to remove the back seat.
Soon the back seat was resting on top of the car, and he was crouched over the petrol tank, sweat dripping from the unbearable afternoon heat.
I felt rather useless, and all I could do was buy him a soft drink and cold water, and fan him and myself with a little collapsible fan I found in my car.
Finally, with a flourish, he presented me with the culprit, a swollen tube in the petrol tank. I asked him some dumb questions, and when he finally decided I was quite harmless, and a lot dumber than I looked, he opened up.
He tried to explain the procedure, and I even managed to coax a little smile from him. He had brought along spare parts, as if he had anticipated exactly what was wrong with the car. It took a while to fix, but when he put away his wrench and turned the ignition, it worked. The car revved beautifully.
He had even prepared the receipt for an amount that I was very happy to pay, with a little tip for his kind services. He donned his uniform shirt and helmet, and with a nod and a shy smile, he was off.
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