One summer while in my late teens I was bumming about in my parents house when my phone rang. I answered, and heard the voice of my close friend Michael.
"Tom! What are you up to today?"
"No plans. What's happening?"
"The Melbourne Show is on. A group of us are heading in soon. Wanna come?"
I was bored, and keen to get out of the house. I decided I would go. "How're we getting in?" I asked.
"Train. The others are at the station already, and I'll be dropped off soon. I'm at Boronia shops with my sister at the moment. The train leaves in twenty minutes."
"Understood. I'll start walking. Probably see you on the road."
I hung up without waiting for a reply, and as I did so I smiled. I have always taken pride in the terseness of my phone speech, and felt I was particularly efficient on that occasion. My smug grin faded however as I realised that I was unsure which train station Michael had been referring to. Almost certainly Ferntree Gully station, I thought, where we always met. But some doubt remained.
By the time I had found my shoes and wallet, ten minutes had passed, and I was running late. I would have to run to meet the train, unless Michael's sister intercepted my path and offered me a lift. Not to worry, I thought, surely Michael meant Ferntree Gully, and surely Michael's sister would drive past me at some point, and all would be well.
I set off at a jog along the quiet suburban street that led all the way to the station. I kept my pace low since it was a hot day, and I didn't want to work up a sweat. As I jogged along the footpath I kept looking behind me for Michael's sister's car. When I was about half way to the station and still had not seen her car, I started to panic a little. If I am to make the train now, I thought, I'll have to sprint.
I had taken a few fast paced strides when I heard another car approaching from behind. I turned my head and relief washed over me. It was the familiar blue Lancer owned by Michael's sister. I stepped out onto the road to wave her down, and as the car slowed to a halt in front of me, I glanced through the windscreen. I saw that the front seats were occupied by two Asian girls: Michael's sister, and a friend of hers I did not recognise.
When the car stopped I ran around to the left rear door and pulled the handle. The friend I did not recognise seemed to be trying to unlock the door for me as I was trying to open it, but our timing must have been off. I figured that my pulling of the door handle was interfering with her attempts to unlock the door, and so despite her best efforts to let me in, the door remained locked. After a few unsuccessful tries at opening the door, I signalled by way of hand gestures for her not to worry about the lock, and since we were in a hurry to meet the train, I ran around the front of the car to the other rear door.
As I rounded the car I saw frantic movement inside the cabin as both Michael's sister and her friend tried to reach around to unlock the other rear door before I got close enough to reach the handle. I laughed inwardly at the comic situation that had developed. Would we have the same lock/handle timing issues as before? It seemed likely. This was a good thing, because Michael's sister's friend was quite attractive. I felt fortunate to have been given this opportunity to make a comic first impression on her.
As I pulled on the door handle, an hysterical scream "Go!" rang out from inside the cabin. A split-second later there was a screech of tyres and the car sped away from me. I was left standing in the middle of the road, confused and bewildered by the strange reaction of the two girls.
Gradually it dawned on me that there was no one in the back seat of the car. Michael should have been there. It then became clear that the blue Lancer was not Michael's sister's car at all. It was just one of the many other blue Lancers that inhabited Melbourne's roads. The driver was not Michael's sister, just an Asian girl who kind of looked like her. I was a complete stranger to both of the girls, and they thought I was a car jacker.
As I stood in the middle of the road between the two burnout marks left by the front tyres of the Lancer, the only practical response I could think of was to resolve to get my eyes tested. Having done that, there was nothing more for me to do but continue on my way. I reached the station in time to catch the train, and met my friends there as expected. All except for Michael that is, who had been dropped off at the next station. He joined us there, and we all rode the train into the showgrounds.
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