Why do bad things always happen in threes?

I have to apologise for my very poor blogging form over the past few weeks. You see, it’s not that I have run out of stories to tell you, it’s that I no longer have a laptop (I unfortunately had to hand it over when I resigned from my last job) and I have been forced to beg, borrow and steal computers and 3G cards in order to post anything.  Sorry…But here’s a little something something for you to nibble on while I save up for a laptop of my own.

Two weekends ago the Hot Fisherman and I left the big smoke and made our way to a game farm close to Thabazimbi. Since my Ford Ka is not exactly designed to carry more than 60kg and the Hot Fisherman’s (almost extinct) Citi Golf is not much better, we hitched a ride in Jacko’s car (the Hot Fisherman’s housemate’s car) along with Jambo (the Hot Fisherman’s other housemate) and Lenski (my housemate who is engaged to Jacko). Before I go any further with this story, I need to give you the background scoop on Jacko.

Jacko is a successful CA with short arms and deep pockets – as the Hot Fisherman puts it. But what he lacks in height, he most definitely makes up for in confidence. He is one intelligent guy. So intelligent in fact, that he is able to manipulate people into doing whatever he wants them to do. His best friend, Phillip, is wrapped around Jacko’s pinkie finger and does just about everything for Jacko, including getting his Subaru serviced. Unfortunately for us, Phillip is overseas and therefore Jacko has been left to deal with the harsh realities of everyday life all alone. And this is where our story begins…

We left Joburg at 3:30pm on Friday and sat in peak hour traffic along William Nicol because the lights were out at Main and William Nicol and surprisingly nobody volunteered to skip Friday afternoon drinks to direct traffic. We stopped for a Steers burger in Britts on the way there. This according to Jacko is where it all fell apart. The Hot Fisherman ordered a King Steers Burger, waited half an hour for his order and then received a Steers Rib Burger instead…twice. When we finally got back into the car, it was already 7pm and the sun had long since vanished.

The road to the farm was hair razing to say the least. There were potholes that would hold a small rhino (or a Ford Ka) every hundred meters or so and we had to dodge these for the last 80km of the ride. About 30km from the farm, we smashed into a particularly colossal pothole. It jumped out at us from nowhere and the jolt was enough to confirm what we had all been dreading. We had a puncture…in the middle of nowhere…on a dodgy road…and Philip was nowhere to be seen.

We stopped on the side of the road and began unloading all the bags, booze and bikes off the back of the Subaru. Every few minutes, a titanic truck would drive past and produce enough wind to blow-dry a mammoth, which made standing a mere meter from the road quite terrifying. When we eventually pulled the spare tyre out, we all breathed a sigh of relief to see that it wasn’t flat. The Hot Fisherman began loosening the bolt-things on the flat tyre while Jacko continued to rummage around in search of the jack. Jambo pushed Jacko aside and had a look for the jack too. Then the Hot Fisherman had a look. The jack was MIA. This was Jacko’s first offence.

We phoned Jacko’s dad who was already at the farm and told him the story. He told us he was on his way.

In the mean time, Jacko took out the triangle and placed it a hundred paces in front of the car. Jambo decided to flag down a car with the triangle and discovered that Jacko had placed the triangle the wrong way around (reflective side facing away from the oncoming traffic). This was his second offence.

After 20 minutes of dust blow-dry’s from passing trucks, we managed to flag down a dude in a 4x4 with a large trailer on the back. Jacko ran to where he had stopped and began directing him to reverse closer to where we had pulled off the road. The Hot Fisherman had a bad feeling and said, ‘Please don’t let Jacko reverse them into a hole’ under his breath and not a second later, the left hand side of the trailer disappeared into a large ditch. The trailer was almost on its side in the bush and Jacko just stood there with his hands on his head in disbelief while the other two boys raced over to help get the trailer out. To cut a long story short, the boys managed to maneuver the trailer out of the ditch and the owner of the trailer got out his jack. The Hot Fisherman changed the tyre and we waved goodbye to the friendly dude with the trailer.

While we were all smiling and waving goodbye, Jacko attempted to start the Subaru. Nothing…The battery of the Subaru was dead and we were stuck…again. This was Jacko’s third offence. Luckily, Jacko’s dad arrived with jumper cables and saved the day.

All I can say to Jacko is: you got away with murder that weekend son, but the baby rhino sighting more than made up for the dismal start to the weekend and I won't soon forget this little outing.