The Truck

There are two photos here. One of my new car - the bakery delivery van, and a photo of our house.

The first thing you will notice is that the 'delivery van' is in fact a truck. A four wheel drive one because we live on a volcanic island township. The second thing you will notice is that our house is up a very steep road.

My life can currently be likened to driving home in the 'van'.

Firstly we have an endless 30 minute drive home from 'town'. There are only 3 types of drivers here: 10 miles an hour, 20 miles an hour and "bat outta hell'. I invariably get stuck behind the first type, although we have quite a few of the latter type living on our hill. Every day I will myself to drink less, be nicer to the kids and go to the gym more. By the time we are half way home, I'm already worrying that there's only half a bottle of wine left in the fridge, which means we always have to stop off at "Big Ben's Superette' to stock up on supplies. You will soon see why.

Once we are at the bottom of our hill, I put the truck into four wheel drive. We also cross ourselves and double check the seat belts. "We are in for an interesting ride" you tell yourself "but it will be worth it, as we'll soon be home ".

We grind up in first gear. It's a tiny little driveway of a road mostly through a banana plantation. Half way up it gets rather bumpy and the truck sways from side to side and goes sort of a "whuuur uhuuurrr uhhurr" kind of noise and one powers on through it hanging on for dear life. It's a bit 'Wages of Fear'-ish.We then fervently start praying that we are not going to meet any of our "bat outta hell" neighbours who come swooping down the hill. It's only happened once so far and it's the most  'island' I've been to date: I just ignored the other car and refused to move. They then had to reverse up the hill. "Tough" (you think to yourself) "sooorrrrry for yoooou. My trucks bigger than yours and if you think I'm reversing down this hill in a truck, THINK AGAIN buddy".

The road then gets steeper and steeper and just when you think that the truck may actually flip over backwards, you have to really gird your loins and grip onto the steering wheel and swoop it around a hairpin bend with screeching wheels and a heart full of hope. The truck is kind of going "urraaannnhhhrr,urrraaangghhhr" by now and is swaying all over the place and one just has to keep pointing it up the hill to keep it on the road.

We then drive right past our house. Zoom. So near but so far.

Our driveway is too steep to turn into, so we actually have to drive even further up the hill in order to turn it around and come back down again.

We have two turning choices: Tiny concrete platform and sheer drop or 70 degree hairpin driveway but no imminent danger of driving off a cliff. Both are terrifying. I tend to favour the latter option (see why below) which then requires one to get 'the line' absolutely right in order to reverse up the hairpin to turn the truck facing north east again. If one is about 3 inches out either way, you're screwed and then have to do about a 90 point turn burning up the clutch and brakes (not to mention your nerves). The air is blue with my view on life. The kids think it's all huge fun.

The first time I had to turn the truck I got it a bit wrong and ended up about 6 inches from the the concrete platform precipice. I thought it best not to drive the truck over the edge on our first day of ownership and had to call Tyler.  He then had to drive back 30 minutes stuck behind someone going 20 miles an hour in order to reverse the truck off the precipice. His first words after I'd explained what the problem was "oh that's easy" which you can only imagine didn't go down too well.

By the time we actually arrive home I feel like we need a thanksgiving dinner, but opt instead for a straw and the back-up supplies.  Only then can I start thinking about tackling the washing up, cooking dinner and the rest of it. There are some days I've had to do this about 3 times. You may understand why I could become a nervous wreck (not to mention the truck).

And I bet you there were those of you out there who thought we tootled around in golf carts, eh?

Sadly, no golf cart like India Hicks