My confidence in our driver “Frank” was growing as we wound through New Kingston and Papine finally stopping at the Texaco station in Barbican before climbing up the winding road to Peter Bentley’s place on Jack’s Hill. Frank asked me for some money for petrol and asked us if we wanted a warm Red Stripe for the drive up. We both declined. Frank popped the bonnet before getting out of the car and removed the steaming radiator cap letting out a “bumbaclaat” from the burns he seemed to be accustomed to getting from frequently repeating that task. It was the first smile I saw from my wife in nearly a whole day as Frank opened the back door and removed the empty Red Stripe bottles.
After filling up, shutting the bonnet, and putting something in the boot Frank returned to the driver’s seat with two warm Red Stripes. “Tall drive ahead, man” he said pointing at the Red Stripes as we started up the hill. The drizzling rain was coming down a little harder and the Lada’s wipers seemed to only smear the red rust water from the radiator all the more. Only one sharp, hair-pin turn into the climb and Frank had already guzzled one beer and opened the second one as the car skidded from side to side while losing some traction on the leaf-covered, rain slicked road. Nearly bald tires on a front wheel drive car will do that.
Intermittent slips and slides and several sharp turns later, the recently cleared red rust water on the windshield was back. I glanced at the indicator gauges and saw the temperature was pegging past “H” and it was obvious that Frank was looking for a place to turn off the road safely. I took a quick glance back at my usually unflappable wife to catch her rolling her eyes as Frank pulled off the road.
He once again popped the bonnet and removed the steaming radiator cap cursing just above a mumble as he went to the boot and removed a black scandal bag, closed the boot, and took the bag back to the radiator. I could see through a gap under the bonnet that he was removing Red Stripe bottles from the bag and pouring them into the radiator. I was wondering if it was Red Stripe beer but soon decided they were the empties from the back floorboard he filled with water at the petrol station. Closing the bonnet, Frank returned to the driver’s seat where he put the two new empties into the bag and handed it to me. He said we would have to wait a bit until the radiator cooled down but, in the meantime,……
“You want me to what??”
