When someone finally answers, I can hardly hear him. The background noise is horrendous, even for a mechanic. It sounds like they’re tossing working helicopters into an industrial blender.
“Hello? Hello? I’m calling about that Saab that got towed to your doorstep on Christmas Day?”
A man’s voice mutters something over the screeching. I take the phone from my ear and try to put him on speaker, but the buttons don’t work because my fingers are so clammy. I may as well be smearing crabsticks on the screen. I raise the phone to my ear and try yelling again.
“The. Saab. How. Fucked. Is. It?”
It’s suddenly quiet on the other end.
“What would you like to order?” He says.
“Ah, I guess that depends what’s wrong with it?” I say.
“What?”
“The. Saab.”
He sighs, and I wait for the bad news like a resigned European car owner. More background noise erupts. It sounds like they’re deep-frying something? Tyres? Is that how you recycle them? Recycling is important.
“Look, you want chips?” I can get you chips,” he says.
I realise I am an idiot.
“Is this Edgeware Takeaway?” I say.
“Yes. You phoned me.”
“Ok. I’ll have one cheeseburger, one fish and half-a-scoop”
“10 minutes, thank you.”
“Ta.”