My first car was a Datsun, in a delightful shade of baby-poo brown. I’d only been on my Ps a week when I almost drove it to total disaster.
It was 11pm one night in south-west Sydney when I approached the huge intersection that links the Hume Highway with Henry Lawson Drive. I was trying to turn right on to the highway and was the first car at the lights. With the baseless confidence of a 17-year-old, I turned … into the wrong lane.
In an instant, cars were coming towards me. All I could think to do in that “Holy shit!” moment was to mount the median strip, to get away from oncoming traffic and on to the correct side of the road.
If only it were that simple. The median strip was at an angle and, as I attempted the mount, my car got stuck. The Datsun was now dangling off the median strip in the middle of the Hume Highway, facing the wrong direction. My wheels weren’t touching the ground, so I couldn’t reverse. I was screwed.
I got out of the car and stood there quite hopelessly – this was a time before mobile phones, not that I had roadside assistance anyway – when a couple pulled over to offer some help. They made a suggestion: there’s a truck stop across the road, why don’t you go ask if there’s someone there who can help you get the car towed?
I grew up in a strictly religious household, so the idea of walking into a truck stop late at night was terrifying. Feeling massively intimidated and quite humiliated, and bracing to be harassed, I walked across and explained my situation to the woman working behind the till. She promptly shouted at the table of five raucous, burly, singlet-clad truckies eating a meal behind her that there was a car stuck in the middle of the highway and a teenage driver who didn’t know what to do about it.
With little fuss, the truckies got up from the table and casually walked across the highway, stopping traffic with the wave of a hand. They then picked up my beloved Datsun as if it were no heavier than a bag of groceries and placed it on the correct side of the road. I sheepishly hopped in and drove home while they cheered me off.
I learned a valuable lesson: that sometimes the people who look the scariest can actually be the kindest.
I sincerely hope those truckers didn’t put their back out lifting the car. And I trust I gave them a funny story for their troubles.