Blow

Ivor had driven all the way on our outbound journey, save for a short stretch where Jacqueline sat behind the wheel. On the way back, I drove about half the time, but was snoring nicely when Ivor blew a tire after 250kms.
Although he was convinced we wouldn’t make it to Harare on the thin spare, we took it easy and still arrived at 7pm.

This time, I got all the police roadblocks but we passed every time without a problem. Twice, the first question I was asked was “How was your holiday?”

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