54 THE OLD FAITHFUL – 

        As narrated by Ashoak

O

F LATE THE OLD FAITHFUL, LESS OF A CAR then a family member, Esteem had been trying to tell me some thing about her ailment. Having learnt how to filter out clutter and  unmindful of her   sluggishness noticed or unnoticed,  during our frequent outings together as a reflex action I would press the accelerator a bit more, increasing the RPMs, to achieve the normal speed.

          

 Come one day it was my turn to pick VKs for a social, late in the evening at Delhi, some distance from Noida.

 Getting dressed, I opened the door and slid in to the driving seat, cranked the engine, pushed the clutch, engaged the gear and pressed on the accelerator, simultaneously releasing the brakes. Expecting the normal surge of taking off I was surprised to note it missing and the reluctance in the Esteem to speed up; the nagging appeared to have become louder and more persistent.

 I picked the waiting VKs from there place, across the road, and cajoled her to gain some momentum and speed.

 The loud nagging soon became whimpering with the Esteem labouring up the slopes of the numerous flyovers en route. Somehow, though reluctantly she did make it and carried us to Surbiton Park.

We were   drinking and making merry inside while she, acutely aware of her debility and lack of energy, making it difficult her to serve her master, was weeping outside.

  Late at night for the return journey to Noida, the engine did pick up immediately on turning the key but with little power being transmitted to the driving wheels it was a slow and agonising takeoff.

 Looking at the car’s state my worries increased many fold; even the thought of a chance break down, in the middle of night, far away from any help with a lady accompanying us was unthinkable.

Keeping my fingers crossed, praying all the while, I   cajoled her to slowly crawl back at least to VK’s, and luckily which she did. However, it needed a push, by the colony guard, on to the road to   Ashoka House across the road. 

 Loyal as ever, gasping for breath, with valiant effort, somehow, she made it to the gate of the house.  And there, with hardly any energy left, having performed her last act of duty for the master she gave a sigh and died on the spot.

The mechanic called the next morning, diagnosed a worn-out clutch and a pressure-plate with no pressure left.

  All  the while,  ignoring the signals from the car,  the clutch slipping,  I had been, as a reflex,   compensating for the loss of power  by pressing on the accelerator till  both the clutch  and the pressure plate  gave way completely.

 Morale of the Story ‘Give due attention to Nagging :  from Wife or Car: man or machine ’