I have a habit of planning to do far more in a day than I possibly could. Some days start out in an impossible rush and fizzle into a reality by morning tea time. Thursday, two weeks ago, was one of those days, but it was not so bad.

I was planning to drop E off at crèche, drive up to the next town to get some fabric and make it back in time to get to a mother’s group an hour later. E was stalling, my bags weren’t packed for town and we were even late getting to crèche.

On the way home I noticed the car making a funny noise. It appeared to go away when I slowed a little. I got myself together and cruised slowly to the Mother’s group. I had a chance to stop, sit, catch my breath, adore my child and admire a few others.

Noticing the noise at 60 km, I returned even slower and made a detour to the garage. We went for a bit of a test drive. There was no noise at 60. I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined it. When we got to 70 the noise started up again and got worse. The mechanic decided that it must be the CV about to go so we slowed and turned to go back. The noise got even worse and then there was a crunch.

Yes, it was the CV. No, the cell phone wasn’t in the car. Yes the baby was in the back seat. It all sounds pretty bad, but it wasn’t.

The mechanic pulled out his cell phone and called the apprentice. Miss H cooed contentedly in the back seat and we were towed back to the garage. I have never been so delighted to break down. I could have been on my mad fabric dash, no phone, between towns with a distraught Miss H. The Mechanic was surprised too. He had never actually heard a CV go before.

The garage was wonderful and had my car back to me the next day in one piece. Service like that deserves a chocolate cake. All up it was a not so bad, bad day.