‘And how long have you been driving that there, uh…’ the policeman looked down at his notes, scanning them for the name.
‘The Isadora,’ I grumbled from beneath the space blanket they’d insisted on throwing over me. ‘Her name is the Isadora.’
‘Is that right,’ the cop nodded. He looked past me to where the charcoal-dusted hull of my vehicle was being loaded onto the back of a truck. ‘Might need a new name after this particular… incident.’
‘Just needs a new coat of paint, some light tweaking,’ I shrugged. ‘She’ll be good as new.’
The cop frowned at me and shared a look with his partner.
‘Son,’ he started, and I preemptively rolled my eyes. ‘Son, have you ever been to a decent mechanic around the Milperra area?’
I shook my head. ‘These aren’t my parts. I was just passing through.’
‘Well, I hate to break it to you, but they might be your parts for a little while yet. Unless you know a truly incredible mechanic, that baby ‘aint flying nowhere.’
I opened my mouth to protest but was cut off by the bumper falling off the vehicle and bouncing along the ground.
‘Fine,’ I grumbled. ‘Can you recommend anyone?’
‘Sure,’ the cop said, adjusting his pants. ‘What’s your budget?’
I picked up the bumper and dusted some charcoal off the side.
‘How much do you think I can get for this as scrap?’
The cops started to laugh, and I threw the bumper to the side with a sigh.
‘Quick,’ the partner guffawed, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘If you go rip out one of the headlights, I know a great auto electrician near me who can sort you out, no issues!’
That set them off again, cackling to each other like they were the system’s best new comedy duo.
I threw the space blanket off me with a growl, and began to walk away.
‘Hey, where are you going?’ the first cop called after me.
‘To find a way off this rock!’