DIB 342 - The Roadtrip(s)

MHOW is one of the most picturesque cantt areas. While all cantts are blessed with an overwhelming share of trees,panju drawing rooms and snooty children, Mhow did have an undeniable charm. It had a tiny five km radius with juxtaposed civil and defense areas. These were strung together by pathways, moodily changing levels and directions. In quite a few crossings, reaching that pinnacle was a small victory of sorts. And for our pretty DIB-342, it was no sweet ordeal.

The market place lay on the lower contours of the town. For the unacquainted, Mhow is famous for Smocking Dresses (pronounced smoking by most residents). In that maze of slender roads and lanes, the car would cease to work at odd places. Inevitably I would have to jump out (ladies and guests excluded from the laborious act) and push it to the nearest safe spot. Restarting would take anywhere between 10 minutes and a week.

On one of the better days, we managed to finish off errands without any glitches. On the way back, we soon approached the Daunting Peak ( some pseudo name. I forgot the real one) Although I can't estimate the level change, I can surely say that the cross-section looked quite similar to a one-sided Bell Curve. As we drove uphill towards the crossing, the car began struggling with the potential difference. Just as we hit the peak, a 3-ton (an army vehicle capable of carrying 3 tons) crossed the orthogonal road. We stalled, for a few seconds. Unfortunately, the car lacked the velleity to finish the task. The slope was too daunting for the fiat. Mummy slammed the accelerator, we cheered. But it had to happen. Sometimes, you have to experience the past to appreciate the future. We were forced to drive downhill, in reverse direction, to gear up for another attempt. Embarrassment levels peaked to a new high (or low). If I remember correctly, the second try was a failure too. The third time, we were blessed with a barren crossing. The car lurched and crossed over to the other side. ah ! Victory was ours !

On another such workout, on some other crossing, the thing just gave up. My father pushed it a bit, and gave up too. The car was left at that place, around two kms from the house. There was no tension of any sorts, no threat of theft. Only a moron would think of stealing something as conspicuous as DIB 342.

The next day, my sister was cycling along with her friends on that road, when one of them curiously enquired, "Hey, isn't that your car?" Thankfully, she handled the situation with the best solution possible - denial. "naa...thats not ours". One of them persisted, "No. I recognize the plates. It is yours". She cringed, "Ohhhh..yes. That is our car." The next question was inevitable - "Why, is it lying here ?" With an emotionless countenance, my sister replied "Well, daddy has parked it here. Thats why."

I don't remember how or when it got back. It's resilience amazes me, now that I review the whole lifeline. The car continued to survive somehow, a new nut here, a new carburettor there. And soon, we began making The Great Trips to Bhopal...