The mind sees the deeper when the eyes are shut. But what happens when this theory proves ineffective; when the eyes have to see so the mind can relax? That's always the situation when you experience mechanical breakdowns on track.
It was a Friday night on my way home from school. Usually, I do not put up with cars as the means to journey home. As far as the distance is, covering a total of 40km, I always mount on the bike every weekend I go home. But just a week ago, I lost a dear friend to a bike accident and decidedly, I felt I should debark from the routine. Journeying by car, I have to avoid the terrible traffic on the Lagos-Badagary Express Road by taking off early. Living on the Island, a suburban part of Lagos, Nigeria, this is the only road that I can ply and unfortunately, the road is a witness to the death of many. Mine, I do not pray for.
I was enjoying the cool breeze flooding in through the open windows while listening to some Nigerian hip-hop songs all through the journey. The music was loud and with my eyes firmly shut, I did not notice the car was no longer in motion. Tapped by the guy sitting beside me who wants to pass through, I realized the car was not moving. I turned and looked at the passengers behind me. Everyone was down in the mouth. Turning off the music, I heard a shuffling of feet as passengers are moving out of the vehicle. "What happened," I asked a man as I came out.
"Am I the owner of the vehicle?" He questioned, rudely. Looking at him with a bird's eye view, I concluded he is one civil servant who has received more frustrations than compensations in his entire life serving the government. I checked my wristwatch to see it is 6 pm already. We were on a highway and fearing a robbery attack, I put my phone and money in my bag and dropped them in the car. I decided to go join the driver and his assistant so I can keep a close watch on my bag. While coming out, I noticed a man in the back seat of the car. He was sleeping and appeared drunk. I went closer to examine his situation and didn't see him as a threat. I went out and joined the driver and his "boy".
" Boss, this piston and crankshaft are still okay even though it is long since we change them," I heard him shout to the driver who was turning on the ignition key. I looked at him and hisses. A bad workman always complains of his tools.
"I don't think it is them. Maybe it's oil. You know it is three months since we change it," the driver replied as he comes down from the car.
"And there is no place to buy oil here now," the assistant reiterated.
Lagos commercial drivers are not only unprofessional. They are inhumane too. Knowing that a small leak will sink the mightiest of ships, these drivers will sail hoping for no mishap. While brooding, I heard my phone ring. When I got there, I had missed the call and was already having a total of ten missed calls. It was my dad and my sister trying to get in touch. Having no airtime, I went outside, took a picture in front of the car, and sent it to my sister on her WhatsApp. I then turned to the other side where the driver and his assistant were inspecting the oil. "This oil is still okay," the conductor was saying as I reached there.
Examining the color and bringing the oil closer to his nose, the driver replied. "I know it is good oil."
"Why don't you check the battery?" I chipped in as the driver was closing the oil tank.
"Battery? You should say petrol. Your father has a car. That's why you enter thOf Broken Piston and Crankshaft; A Broken Auto Mech to the Rescue
The mind sees the deeper when the eyes are shut. But what happens when this theory proves ineffective; when the eyes have to see so the mind can relax? That's always the situation when you experience mechanical breakdowns on track.
It was a Friday night on my way home from school. Usually, I do not put up with cars as the means to journey home. As far as the distance is, covering a total of 40km, I always mount on the bike every weekend I go home. But just a week ago, I lost a dear friend to a bike accident and decidedly, I felt I should debark from the routine. Journeying by car, I have to avoid the terrible traffic on the Lagos-Badagary Express Road by taking off early. Living on the Island, a suburban part of Lagos, Nigeria, this is the only road that I can ply and unfortunately, the road is a witness to the death of many. Mine, I do not pray for.
I was enjoying the cool breeze that flood in through the open windows while listening to some Nigerian hip-hop songs all through the journey. The music was loud and with my eyes firmly shut, I did not notice the car was no longer in motion. Tapped by the guy sitting besides me who wants to pass through, I realized the car was not moving. I turned and looked at the passengers behind me. Everyone was down in the mouth. Turning off the music, I heard a shuffling of feet as passengers are moving out of the vehicle. "What happened," I asked a man as I came out.
"Am I the owner of the vehicle?" He questioned, rudely. Looking at him with a bird's eye view, I concluded he is one civil servant who has received more frustrations than compensations in his entire life serving the government. I checked my wristwatch to see it is 6 pm already. We were on a highway and fearing a robbery attack, I put my phone and money in my bag and dropped it in the car. I decided to go join the driver and his assistant so I can keep a close watch on my bag. While coming out, I noticed a man in the back seat of the car. He was sleeping and appeared drunk. I went closer to examine his situation and didn't see him as a threat. I went out and joined the driver and his "boy".
" Boss, this piston and crankshaft is still okay even though it is long since we change them," I heard him shout to the driver who was turning on the ignition key. I looked at him and hisses. A bad workman always complains of his tools.
"I don't think it is them. Maybe it's oil. You know it is three months since we change it," the driver replied as he comes down from the car.
"And there is no place to buy oil here now," the assistant reiterated.
Lagos commercial drivers are not only unprofessional. They are inhumane too. Knowing that a small leak will sink the mightiest of ships, these drivers will sail hoping for no mishap. While brooding, I heard my phone rang. When I got there, I had missed the call and was already having a total of ten missed calls. It was my dad and my sister trying to get in touch. Having no airtime, I went outside, took a picture in front of the car and sent to my sissy on her WhatsApp. I then turned to the other side where the driver and his assistant were inspecting the oil. "This oil is still okay," the conductor was saying as I reached there.
Examining the color and bringing the oil closer to his nose, the driver replied. "I know it is good oil."
"Why don't you check the battery?" I chipped in as the driver was closing the oil tank.
"Battery? You should say petrol. Your father has car. That's why you enter public car," the assistant boy shunned out.
"What happened?" I heard a voice ask. I turned and saw the man who had been sleeping in the car.
"It is Alcohol. Better go back to your sleep and shut up," the annoying assistant guy replied.
Other passengers were already trying to stop another car that might convey us to our destinations. I took my schoolbag and joined them. After a couple of failed attempts to stop a car, I went back to the driver and saw the drunkard checking out the car already." How long has the car refused to start?" He was asking the driver when I got there.
"About one hour now," he replied.
"Turn on the car key and let me see."
After a couple of times listening to the sound the engine was making, he checked on the battery. "You have an extra battery or jumper cable?" He asked.
"Only jumper cable we have," the assistant answered.
"Try to stop another car and let's jumpstart this thing."
Both driver and conductor set out. As they moved, a car stopped; its driver wanted to pee. I breathed out and closed my eyes. Now the mind can see clearly .