Freewheelin' in Donnybrook

My car broke down the other night. It was a typical hectic Monday evening for me; collect the young­est from GAA at 6pm, then head up to Donnybrook for the eldest who finishes soccer at 6.30 and the mid­dle guy, same venue but he didn’t finish until 7.oopm. I brought along my Stephen King book and told them to run around and play until it was time to go. Thank God for long summer evenings.
At 7pm, the three boys climbed into the car sweaty, weary and starv­ing for their dinner. I went to start the car. The battery was dead. I rang our insurance company which offered a break down service and help line which must be in Scotland judging by the accent. I told the girl that I didn’t know the name of the hill I was on but that I was in Don­nybrook, Douglas. She said that a mechanic would be out in an hour. The boys started whining. I rang my mother and sacrificing Coronation Street; she was out like a bullet and whisked them away leaving me to my fate. I had my book and an un­expected quiet hour, I was content. An hour later, my mobile rang and a thick Dublin accent said, “How’re ya?” My heart sank. I said, “You’re in Dublin, aren’t you?” He said, “Yeah, I’m in Donnybrook, where are you?” Wrong Donnybrook. I told him that I was in Cork to which he replied, “Well I’m no good to you so, am I?!” and hung up.
I rang the insurance company again. I was told that I was now ‘Priority’ but that nobody could get to me before 10pm. I explained to the girl that I was in a football ground which was due to be locked up in the next half an hour. Miss Helpful suggested that I find a man to wheel the car out onto the road and to wait there. I went looking for manly assistance. I approached my son’s coach and he and two others read­ily agreed to push me out the gate. It was comical driving stead­ily backwards across a field with three men on my bonnet. Once on the road, the coach suggested that since I was near the top of the hill, I should freewheel down and try jump start the car myself by pumping the clutch. I had seen my father do it countless times as a child in our knackered car; the 12 year old thrill seeker inside of me was tempted to take on the challenge of careering through a residential area in an out-of-control car. The three of them were about to launch me when the rescue man suddenly appeared. Mass murder averted. The rescue guy said the break down service were hopeless and suggested that I take up mem­bership with the AA right after I buy a new battery. I’ve actually been very lucky with my breakdowns, they always happen within walking distance of home and on summer evenings when I’m not rushing any­where. My guardian angel is defi­nitely paying attention!