my angels have been busy...

I promised to drive to Ciampino airport yesterday. I reneged. I have a portrait that must be completed soon. A friend drove my car to the airport - in heavy traffic as the buses and trains were on strike.

On the way back the car overheated. No, I reported to the anxious caller, that has never happened before. They stopped, and tried again. No luck, the car was not going to go anywhere without overheating. It had popped its fan belt although there was no sign of wear and tear on it.

My guests claimed to have enjoyed the adventure. Apparently the tow trucks have a good system going with the traffic police. My friend has a son-in-law who is in the traffic police south of Rome, and the tom-toms were beating fast and loud. I now owe a policeman big-time. He was woken to sort my car problems after being on night shift. He called another friend who transported my car to a police station, with my guests still in the car. They say the view is great from up there, and the sat-nav still tells you where to go even if you are not driving. Apparently my rather ferocious driver friend fended off all other tow-truck would-be's, sending them packing in his most choice mountain dialect.

I have no idea how my car got from the police compound where it stayed overnight to my local garage where I collected it this afternoon.

It could have cost me as much as 400 euros to get my car home. (Normal price is 250 but things can almost double on a foreign accent - often I plead the low NZ dollar). If I had been driving that is almost certain to have been the case. My kiwi friends are wishing they had had their camera to record the flashing lights, numerous police cars, energetic conversations and the whole adventure. They waited in the air-conditioned police station drinking chilled water from the drink dispenser while the sleepy off-duty cop came from well south of here to bring them back to Caprile. They got home half an hour later than they would have if the trains had been running.

It cost me 60 euros to get my car fixed, and 30 hours later it is back home again.

How do you ever repay kindnesses like these? Last year (Dad's athletics competition) to use my time in the Riccione hotel well I painted fantasy works for two young friends. They haven't seen them yet. I think it is time to give them to their Dad, the sleepy policeman.

PS Wednesday. Heard today that my car was back-loaded for free because the friend of a friend had to pick up a tractor nearby... how big is my debt, how busy my guardian angels?
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