Heroism: A Wife's View.

After a pleasant forty minutes in Pounstretcher Mothermouse and I are approached by the young woman in the next car. She tells me, note ‘me’ not my matrimonially connected co-shopper, she can’t get her car started and could ‘I’ help. MM suggests the steering lock but I am on a mission to save a damsel in distress and temporarily deaf to such obvious suggestions. I manfully assume the driver’s seat and try the key. Nope, won’t turn. I open the door and close it again, lock it and un-lock it as every good software engineer knows to do. Nothing. I try the key again. This time there is a strange sort of snuffly gurgling sound from the back of the car. Ah petrol, maybe an air blockage or a malfunctioning pump causing cavitation in the fuel supply. I try the key again. The same sound. Very strange. I wondered, could a sensor strategically placed in the petrol pipe be triggered by an electrical malfunction that cuts off the ignition so as to avoid the car bursting into flames? In desperation I yanked the steering wheel and the key at the same time and it turns, and the car starts. Hero 1; Vauxhall Astra 0. As I exited the car in triumph I turned to notice an eighteen month old in a kiddy seat in the back suffering from a cold and watching my every move. I’d like to think in the years to come he will remember this time and he too will rise to his moment of heroism. Meanwhile I have to continue home to the sound of Mothermouse reminding me, “I said it was the steering lock didn’t I, I mean that’s what I said it was, try the steering lock I said ….”