November 17th, 2009

New Fanblade Fable (7)

We climbed from the old car – because it spluttered and died. We lifted the heavy bonnet, then propped it open with the dipstick because the proper prop was broken. It was not easy because of wind and rain ... and darkness. Each of us gave the other moral support, while the driver stayed behind the steering wheel. We were, I suppose, the worst sort of ‘back-seat drivers’, having shouted out in turn to criticise the real driver’s driving. The least we could do was venture outside to investigate beneath the bonnet, having just blamed the driver for breaking down. It was not the driver’s car to keep roadworthy. The driver only happened to be driving it.

We immediately discovered by the light of our flickering torch that the problem was the fanbelt. But then the torch abruptly died on us. Leaving the wind and rain beyond the sense of sight if not of touch.

Touch sounds like a positive sense. Something one does.

Weather is touchy-feely, I guess. Like some people are more touchy-feely than other people.

The night was utterly silent. The country-road deserted. The trees, as we had earlier seen, swaying vigorously.

But the weather in question should have been noisy as well as touchy-feely. We listened for its surging and sucking and splattering, but, instead, strangely we heard nothing.

Despite the sense of complete darkness, we could just discern, through the windscreen, the shape of the driver in the front seat. Slumped over the wheel, as if also propped up like the bonnet.

Then the dipstick as makeshift bonnet-prop must have snapped and the bonnet crashed down. Except it wasn’t exactly the metallic crash that we expected. The sound was muffled by goodness knows what. Then, it became clearer. It must have been muffled by one of our necks.

A collider with no collision. Head-on.

The sound of the car’s re-ignition suddenly spinning the fanblades gave me the sense of a hadron. But did I touch or feel it?


EDIT: New Fanblade Fable (8):