Dark side of the moon

Challenges often come in threes. Exiting a band rehearsal room strewn with empty wine bottles is difficult enough, but add in a sprained ankle compounded by a knock from a falling music stand, a loaded back pack, a guitar and amplifier and the 200 metre trek becomes a challenge at another level. Whilst starting most automobiles involves a simple turn of the key in the ignition, there are certain vehicles (such as a 1986 Pulsar with a leaking radiator hose and a hood that requires a block of wood to hold it up) that necessitate extensive preparation (such as the addition of sufficient water to last a 14 kilometre journey).

Having overcome the aforementioned challenges on a cold dark night one might expect that the only other variable was running out of petrol, given the lack of an operational fuel gauge. Factor in the  traffic police and we meet our third challenge. Obviously waiting for a citizen to harass, a police car pursued me from  a remote site near the municipal saleyards  before the flashing lights and sirens suggested I should stop. As expected, requests were made to produce my licence, verify my address, state my destination, and indicate my level of sobriety. They asked whose car it was and informed me they knew it was registered to someone in a Northern suburb of the State's capital. They told me to be aware that the registration was due to expire. Shining a torch towards the front of the vehicle, they surprisingly made no comment on the fact that the side mirror was attached with adhesive tape, or that the side window was held in place by pieces of paper jammed in the cavity. Fortunately no request was made to open the passenger side door, as the would have been a difficult achievement. Eventually they added my details to their extensive file on me and sent me on my way.