Boempa takes a risk

A loyal reader has come on board with a blog.

Writing under the name Boempa, this 70-year-old man, who refuses to let age be a factor in his life, will regale us with his adventures, both past and present.

Many years ago, in my wilder days and shortly after the introduction of toll booths on some of our newer highways, I was driving home one evening along one of the toll highways.

I stopped, inserted my credit card and waited for it to re-appear. Nothing happened, no card, no raised boom – nothing.

I pushed the button on the speaker mounted in the machine panel. Someone responded, asking how they could help. I explained my predicament, and the need for me to recover my precious credit card.

“Sorry, I can’t help you now sir. You’ll have to stop in the morning and we’ll get your card out and return it to you.’’

“Sorry, not good enough. I’m going out to dinner tonight and I’m going to need my card. Don’t you have a technician on standby?”

“No sir.”

There was a long pause.

“Okay,” I said.

Communication disconnection, in more ways than one.

I went to my boot, took out my tool bag, found a suitable Phillips screwdriver and began removing the toll machine’s brushed steel panel with the slot in.

No-one approached me and oncoming vehicles simply moved across to alternate lanes.

Shortly afterwards, the panel was free and I gently lifted it. Sure enough, there was my card just on the wrong side of the slot, ready but not able for some reason to exit.

I recovered my card and carefully replaced the panel.

I can’t remember if I threw extra money in the cash basket the next morning in case I hadn’t paid the night before.

Please note my dear readers, do not try this exercise nowadays. It is very likely you will go to jail.

Look after yourselves and each other.

Talk soon,

Boempa

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