Cont. from Part I
Meanwhile I'm distracted by the young buck crashing around in the bush just to the side of the road. He's so obscured by brush that I can barely make him out. He must hear me talking about him because he freezes and you can only see his rack when he dips down to take a mouthful of grass.
With that little interlude over, my uncle rides back with no connector. My hopes start to fade until he announces he'll just strip the wire and wrap it around the battrery to provide contact.
Yes! I can already feel the wind whipping by as I captain the cart around the island. He comes back, attaches the connector and ITS ALIVE! I wipe my damp brow and grin like a madwoman. Crises averted. We can now continue our trip around the island.
My uncle decides to go and visit a friend after hearing the cart is supposed to sit two people, not four. Oops. Meanwhile, his partner hops on the bike and I captain the cart and chauffeur my grandmother around.
I'm thinking, this is the life. This is the way people were meant to travel. In silence without a sputtering motor and a cranky transmission. That is, until I try to gun the thing and find that I could run faster than the carts top speed. Oh well. We have a leisurely drive. We check the notice boards, I climb apple trees and pick some fresh fruit for tea, pick up some free magazines left out by neighbours and I do get to feel the wind in my hair.
Too soon though, we're back. By now the fire has almost died and we have no kindling. Only large chunks of damp wood. I figure 13 years of camping should have taught me something about making fires. We find some kindling but its too big. I valiantly offer to go and chop them into smaller pieces, thinking nothing of it. But as I descend the stairs and walk into the workshop where we keep the axe I start to worry.
What if I chop off a finger or my entire hand? That's ridiculous. And so my fear of sharp objects comes into full form. Don't get me wrong. Axes and knives have their purpose and are nice and shiny but, well you know. Besides, I've never really chopped wood before, a skill I've never acquired but I now feel should be taught to all daughters in order to avert this very crisis.
I had a great time at the cabin, depite the weather and the hiccup with the golf cart. I can't wait to go back!
Update: Marion Jones has handed back her five medals. Good on her for taking the initiative to hand them in herself.