by Pauline Clementson

Created on: July 18, 2009

The Joys of Travel

Snapping the lid shut on the last suitcase, I glanced at the clock. Only another 10 minutes and the kids would be home from school. A last check of the windows and the travel clothes I had sorted out for my offspring, I lugged the last case outside and loaded it into the car.

'Right, I think it's time I had a cuppa.'

Sitting on the front step enjoying my brew, my thoughts turned to Tracy and her family in Tauranga. It had been a year since they had visited us in Auckland, so the excitement level was running high.

'Hi Mum! We're home.' a chorus came, as three young urchins ran up the drive.

'Have you packed my togs Mum?' asked my five year old.

'Of course, they are in your bag in the car. Now! Stow your gear and get changed. I want to miss the heavy traffic. Move it!'

There was a scramble of bodies racing through the door, stripping as they went.

Fifteen minutes later, faces shinning and full of excitement, the trio climbed aboard our 'Pride and Joy.' Gerty was a 1963 Austin Cambridge saloon that had served us well for three years.

I slammed the porch door and pulled out the handle. (The only semblance of security we had at our disposal at the time.)

Throwing the door handle into the glove box, we were off.

Traffic was still light as we entered the motorway at Greenlane and headed south. We had just reached Suicide Crossroads at the top of the Bombay Hill when the truck in front threw up a stone, right into our windscreen.

With my heart pounding and the kids making a devil of a noise, I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. Once we had all calmed down, it was time to find Gerty's repair kit.

Emptying the boot of suitcases and other assorted paraphernalia, right at the bottom at the back naturally, was a black plastic bag. Pulling out spanners, screwdrivers, nylon stockings, radiator hoses, a roll of plastic cling foil, half a roll of duck-tape, and a towrope, but no emergency windscreen.

With suggestions from the bizarre to the ridiculous coming from my helpful trio, I grabbed the roll of cling foil and duck tape and set to work. Knocking a couple of holes in the shattered glass, I fashioned a cover over the windscreen. By pulling the cling film nice and tight and using the duck tape to secure the edges to the car, visibility wasn't too bad, and the job was done.

With the gear and kids restored to order, a silent prayer sent up in the hopes

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