A BAD THING CAN TURN INTO A GOOD THING!
This is supposed to be an old saying.
And this was one of those days.
I’d been empty for four days, the impatience was lying like a extra shirt outside of my red and black working shirt, and now it was starting to tighten up.
At last I had got the first address, and even though it wasn’t more then 7 pallets, it was a start, it was a way back into society, out of dead water, back to reality, back to being a person society needed.
While turning of the motorway to do the last 16 kilometres onto the village were my 7 pallets was waiting by the company Ritorcitura Sacchi, I stepped on the clutch to gear down before the peage, and felt the pedal loosing all resistance. Using the speed that was already there I steered out on the road shoulder - and everything turned still. No load - no speed - no clutch.
Out. Checking. No oil in the container! Does that work this spontaneous? From one step to the next? To get a litre of oil - no problem, but to get out the air - alone? Impossible. The telephonelist. Starting to make calls. Fu... he....
Several calls. One and a half hours of waiting. A nice Italian female voice telling me in perfecte inglese that the garage supposing to help me is not far away, but they do not have
the time «before later». Not «due minute» - which can be an hour or so, but later. Which can be much later.
-Is it possible for you to drive to the garage?
Well, when my boss claims to have driven round half Germany loading three places whithout a clutch, not repairing before Nørresundby in northern Denmark, I could and should do a try.
I was lucky. No traffic, only one crossroad making problem, but the Italian was smart enough not to stand on his right, giving me the finger instead, accompanied with all his lights and horns. I hit the garage right away and strait on, parked outside and walked in.
To be greeted by a girl who immediately made me want to be half my age and unmarried
She guided me to Giordano Gastaldi. He speaks good english, and french. The stairway has started. With no more talk he examines the truck. The clutch booster is originaly hung up with four bolts. To of them are no longer there, two is broken. The booster is hanging down, liquids gone, and so is the efficiency.
Giordani, young man around thirty I guess, fires up two of his computers. Finds the part in the program on the main computer, checking the number on the lap top with the store. And yes. Its there. 10 feet away, ready for my truck.
Everything perfect this far. Next question: Do you want coffee?
YESS! (I haven’t even had breakfast yet).
Per favor, chocolate bar, standard in our garage.
New question: Are you in a hurry? (My english is letting me down here. The question was not put that way, more in direction: HOW much hurry are you in?)
And, to be honest, not desperate, but I would like to get on.
OK. Then Roberto, new man is ready, immediately on his back under the truck, while Giordano continues on the truck he was fixing when I came.
After not long time the technical problems are solved, and they are both there to let out the air. (To air it?)
Pumping, refilling and letting out air, the siesta is starting, the work is continuing, pumping, refilling...
Finaly the car is standing there, like new.
Another beautiful women presents papers needing to be signed, I get the address of the garage, both web and e-mail.
And drives on.
Plying the old Zeppelin tune «Stairway to heaven»...
Having find another good argument for drivin’ Italy with an old truck having a good time...
Gastaldi Truck Service
Mail to: firstname.lastname@example.org