Bob… the hero in Crocs

If you’re a parent you may find the scene a familiar one… about eleven o’clock at night, waiting at the train station for daughter and her friend to come home from a concert in Bristol. I can’t remember now who it was they had been to see, Ollie Murs, Alex Gardner, Daniel Merriweather… who knows? Anyway, back to me, sitting in the car at the station, waiting, and listening to the radio.

I realised I had misread her text and she wouldn’t be in for another twenty minutes or so, but I was quite happy, thinking my thoughts and listening to music… when the lights began to fade… What? The lights? I’d been sitting with the lights on? Idiot! I’d drain the battery. I quickly turned the lights off, and the radio for good measure, and waited for the girls to arrive.

Before two long two very happy, very excited, very tired girls teetered out of the station in their high heels and short skirts and long nails. They jumped in the car, bubbling with all the things they had seen and said and heard.. and the car wouldn’t start, the battery almost as dead as the proverbial doornail. There was only one thing for it, we would have to push-start the car, and as they were only sixteen and without a license, I would have to sit in our Vauxhall Zafira (Opel Zafira) and they would have to push me round the absolutely flat car-park in the car with the absolutely flat battery and hope to get up enough speed for me to start it.

I got out as well and we pushed it back out of the parking space, watched by all the taxi-drivers waiting for the London train to come in. Not one of them offered to help the short stout woman and two young girls struggling to push-start the big heavy car. I got back in and we started to move slowly forward.

My daughter’s friend was busy on her phone, and also her fingernails were rather long so it was mainly my daughter trying to shove the car  to get enough speed for me to start it in second gear. Now my daughter is a strong girl (black belt in karate, I’m proud to say) but even she couldn’t get it going enough to start it. She was getting cross, I was trying to be patient  knowing it was my fault, and the taxi drivers, now out of their cabs and watching us, were… watching us.

Suddenly from across the street in the other car park a tall powerful figure strode towards us, silhouetted against the street lights. He had obviously seen what the matter was and courteously asked if he could help. Did we have jump leads, he asked… of course not. Never mind, he had some in his cab and he went back over the road and returned in his taxi. I eventually managed to open the bonnet, with help from the hero who introduced himself as Bob, and he attached the leads to our battery and his, and started his car.

I must have run the battery right out of juice because Bob had to go to the other drivers who were now only too pleased to help, and get a second set of leads to hook up to another cab. Bob stood chatting to us while the battery charged, telling us where we could get a new battery from if ours needed replacing, and giving us his number if we ever needed a cab.

Bob was very tall and I couldn’t see what he looked like as he always seemed to be in front of a light, but he had a soft pleasant voice with maybe just a trace of an accent. Hurrah! Our car started! Thank you Bob!! You saved the day, you’re our hero.

As I drove away to take the girls home, I asked my daughter what Bob the hero had looked like. Tanned and he was wearing Crocs… a hero in Crocs…

Every so often I think of Bob; I’m sure if I was ever in danger or difficulty he would come striding out of the darkness to come to my rescue, Bob the hero in Crocs.