"Yep."
"Hi, it's David from the AA..."
"Eh eh!"
A small pause, just big enough for tumbleweed ensued. I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. Certainly David didn't.
He was phoning me to tell me that he was nearly here, and almost ready to fix my tyre. After my puncture the other day, it was obviously time to stop skidding round on the spare and get a proper replacement. David was the man to do it.
When he arrived, he was with another guy called Luke, who leapt out of the bright orange van and set to work.
"You alright then?" I asked David, who was leaning out of the passenger side window.
"Feeling a bit queasy."
"Dehydrated?"
"No, I've been drinking..."
It suddenly occurred to me that that could have meant one of two very different things, so I casually left the conversation alone.
When I went back out later, David (still fainting in the passenger seat) told me that Luke's van 'leans' and it was probably that that was making him feel 'sick'. I said I'd never heard of that before but I hoped it 'cleared up'.
Inwardly, I wondered just exactly who was taking whom for a ride.
Still, all my tyres are worthy of the road, even if the road is not worthy of them. I thanked Luke with a handshake, saluted David, and took the locking wheelnut, putting it safely back in the glove compartment.
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