Luckily for me I had upgraded to a smooth-operating, spanking new tall-boy (if not swanky...my niece has always called it the snub-faced one, while I believe, even the Japanese call it the WagonR). So as I attempted to graciously glide I saw that the just stopped car would not start.
In that early-to-office moment, a queue of motley cars (some mini, some long bodied, some chunky) and a volley of honk (horn???), began to build. Hmmm. Sure enough, the man at the wheel began to gesture, wildly - for the line behind him to work-around the outage that just struck his gud-ole-reliable. I could drive on so did not care to wait and check.
I could think of a good reason why the car would not start. No gas. He must have kept putting off the visit to the way-side fuel-station (petrol bunk as we better know it).
Believe me, because I have seen several of the type in the above example (aside of yours truly), struck by this drivers' block and getting some unsuspecting roadie - mostly the one closest to you - traffic-wise, or the nearby policeman - to play samaritan. Unwilling at times. Yet helpful.
How else can it be when every one on any given stretch is either rushing to work or wanting so badly to get home. All in search of relative comfort. Seeing you in an obvious quandary the guy just behind you or the nearby traffic cop is obliged to wear that mantle of responsibility.
After getting a pack of people to move the stalled vehicle away from the trouble spot, one can't look anything but sheepish. Add to that a gruffy cop's parting shot - "laksha kottu car tegotare ond-aivat rupay kottu petrol hakak-agalla" - meaning to say folks who can pay a couple of lakhs to buy a car won't pay a fifty to get a litre of gas. Plain solid correct.
Yes, trying to get the most out of the last drop of that golden volatility called petrol, has been many a road-weary Bangalorean's undoing as I know. It tests a penny pincher's proneness for extravagant folly. Disease or indiscipline - I have no idea. But I have seen it force many a steering-happy guy or gal to an uncompromisingly grinding halt just like that. To share a truth, the number of times I have not been able to even pull into a safe patch on the frighteningly busy Bangalore roads for want of a precious half liter, is touching an embarrassing limit.
Postponing, procrastinating till one gets to one's favourite petrol bunk, sheer stop-start-stop-start traffic that drains the tank as much as the spirit, or a certain carelessness that fools you to assume you are running a somewhat perpetual motion machine. Wonder what it is!
Where a 5 minute wait and a 100 rupee could have served one home-ward drive, I have on an occasion, after pushing one mini whitish-elephant to the edge,
- trudged half a KM,
- begged n pleaded for a greasy (otherwise uggh! untouchable) plastic can,
- talked the pump attendant to fill it with the precious liter (ignored the peg that spilt over the hand that held the can, in the process),
- scanned the horizon for an auto-rickshaw to ferry me back to the spot where the elephant was parked,
- tipped a cool 50 for that short ride just to rid myself of the nasty memory of it all.
- Poured into the tank (avoiding the jeering gazes and comments).
- Finally turned the key and heaved a sigh of tired relief when the engine vrroomed to life.
All of that could have been avoided - not just once. I can count about 5 such in the last 8 years. Knowing that even well thinking folk like father or sister or good friend would shrug it off with a - "hrummmph! What is wrong with you", I have learnt to keep events involving such errors of omission to myself.
And working around these refuelling lapses, I have
- spent an hour getting to know gas-station locations along the horrendously busy Bannerghatta road,
- paid off an auto with change from the banana vendeuse in the multi-storey government complex near the Vidhan Soudha,
- pushed car to the kerbside near the secured Raj Bhavan,
- got a stern piece of cop's mind at the Vellara junction,
- paid a surety deposit for an old 50 liter can near Basavanagudi,
- walked more than a kilometer between Christ college and 2 petrol bunks on Hosur road....
Plus some more. Talk of getting hands-on, road-wise, in the process.
Seriously, they need to have a 'reserve' tank in cars like they do in scooters for people with this kind of problem, I wished. And as I kept wishing, someone mentioned that a new car-type had entered the shop-floor. A dual fuel tank model. LPG and Petrol. I decided to close in on my 3 yr plan to upgrade my car - well everybody was doing that.
Test driving the new machine felt great. One just had to press a button to switch between the fuel options. As simple as that. I'll get a redundant half tank of the less-expensive LPG and a quarter tank of the dearer-by-each-month petrol and experience the fall-back-mechanism i told myself. No more procrastination. No more forgetfulness and no more of the numbing mid-road-crisis.
Hmmm! So how did it happen then? 3 days into this redundancy packed arrangement and there I stood, right edge of the road - shaking with understandable anxiety. Flanked by a fat bodied bus and followed by a long line of vehicles. Start stop start no-start.
I could kick myself. I pushed the LPG button. Start stop start no-start. Saw red. O gosh the factory-fit tank did not come with even a few complimentary millilitres of gas.
The snarling line of cars and buses built while I pushed buttons. While they "sounded the horn" I waved wildly - asking them to move on because I couldn't budge. The closest driver gave me a withering look - more because he had very little space to move away without harming my shining new car. I looked stunned as 3 buses carefully made their way just a few centimeters away from where I sat praying - for the paint on the new car.
Once again the nearest guy on bike, had to be stopped for help. That evening's samaritan, helped me move the larger car till the median and left, promising to tell the cop at the signal that a car is left in the middle of the road and to please see that it stays safe.
"Ok... thanks". Silly smile.
Once again I had to resign to the imminent - a half hour and a hundred bucks to spend over one more idiotic jaunt. On the other side there was an auto - parked conveniently for me to ask for a ride to the nearest gas station. Not bad. Seeing me look his way, the auto-wala walked towards me to enquire what happened - kind faced. Ok he nodded - I will take you to the petrol pump.
What luck! my good karma! he was actually offering help.
As I turned to get going, a man with a bag (much like a laptop case) slung across the chest went past. He must have heard me say "petrol khali(no petrol!)". 'Cos he stopped and confirmed if that was indeed my problem. "Yes".
Don't worry (in the madkobedi style :-)) he had a bottle of it he said - or did I hear him say. "Really?" - Of course. Believe me... here...(opened his laptop-case like bag) and actually produced a water-bottle filled with yes - what looked like golden petrol.
As I wondered aloud about people carrying risky bottles of the inflammable stuff on their persons, he said, he - a driver needed it for emergency situations. Helpful despite the risk wasn't it? I had to agree.
The stars seemed in alignment that evening. He took just Rs 50 for the helpful litre.
Even poured it into the fuel tank and waited for me to take off. Start...start...and lo the engine purred to life. Ok...? He asked amid the din of the road.
Ordinary homing pedestrian. Samaritan or God... come to the aid of the many-time-truant? Or a potential offender - incendiary?
"Ok..." I shouted - suddenly ignoring the enormity of the coincidence, the hazard the man carried on his person, the ease with which I got out of a tricky situation. All this in Bangalore of the '08. At the night hour when many a drastic event has befallen people on the road.
But then every bit of the event was real.
I could drive past the cop at the signal - he saw what happened from his post but did not say anything or even stop me. I continued. It all looked like the power above ones head at work - a personal genius? My watch showed 9pm when I left a petrol pump with a fuller tank. Had 15 minutes to reach home and make it for the evening's conference call.
Parked. Knocked. Let myself in. Went straight to the "home office" and logged in. The incident of an hour ago seemed forgotten. Talked a bit and listened in mostly. It had to be a late dinner. Wondered briefly about the evening. It had never been that easy to get out of a blunder. I decided to turn a new leaf then. There. No more dilly dallying as the needle touched the dreg-point. I swore.
That was exactly how, at the point where the Margosa road turns into the Sampige road, I recognized one more of this procrastinating ilk. In the broad light of the day, he could have coped with the problem I am sure. But he would have forced another wayfarer off his "mamool" (regular) way, held up a road-full of busy folk for a few precious minutes, troubled himself over a quick auto-ride and back - all for a litre (you can't get more than that in emergency containers) before anything else.
A wasted morning. A bad start to a good day.
If you have been through a mid road crisis of this sort, you may look beyond the carelessness and somewhat untreatable/incorrigible nature of the victim and may even understand the problem. But I have changed. I plan to ensure that the incident does never recur.
Why not, as I told myself make good use of the dual... standby... redundant... option?
May be as they say in technology, it does take two-of every-thing to make a fault tolerant system. Yeah. A la good samaritans who are forced to be fault tolerant.
- jap 25th March 2008
