High Speed Tug – or Stress in the Army

 1979 and the army. Hurry up and wait. Ballasbak. Zero stress.

Except for this one time:
My 2-tone 1965 Opel Rekord 4-door column-shift sedan (in sophisticated shades of grey: dark grey body, pale grey roof, grey upholstery) got indisposed while parked under the bluegum trees outside the camp at Medics, Roberts Heights (Voortrekkerhoogte, Thaba Tshwane). She wouldn’t start.


This was serious! We had a weekend pass and there was a party on in the City of Sin & Laughter (aka Harrismith).

Not a problem, KO __ (we were all KO’s: candidate officers) offered to tow me to Harrismith behind his V6 Cortina or Datsun bakkie. A short piece of nylon rope was found and we set off.  I immediately thought Uh Oh!! as we hared off, accelerating furiously. Soon we reached what felt like 100 miles an hour. Slow down! I screamed silently. We hadn’t arranged any signals or communication, so I simply gripped the steering wheel and concentrated. (If cellphones had been invented I’d have sms’d him: WTF RU MAD?)

I sat tensely, staring at the rear of the bakkie a mere 6ft from my bonnet (couldn’t even see the towrope!) as we roared along. We’re going East so fast we hasten the setting of the sun.

Then it started to rain! Then twilight fell. Then it got dark, with the rain falling ever heavier as my wipers feebly swished back and forth. With the motor not turning (thus no alternator) the battery got flatter and flatter and the wipers got slower and slower. Blowing the hooter and flashing my lights just made things worse. Upfront in the bakkie the music was so loud and the chit-chat so intense they didn’t even notice us (or pretended not to?). So there was nothing for it but to hang in there for hours. Worst journey of my life. My chin got closer and closer to the windscreen and my knuckles got whiter. Still the KO kept the bakkie floored! He had to get to Durbs where a girlfriend was waiting. My neck was tense and I don’t think I blinked once, staring at the top edge of the bakkie tailgate. My right thigh ached as it poised ready to brake – delicately! – at any moment.

An eternity later we pulled up in Harrismith, unhitched the towrope and off he went, on to Durban. Hey, thanks!, I said. Appreciate it!

Fu-u -uu-uck-uck!!!!!!! I have NEVER felt such relief.

Graham Chrich sent me this video. Reminds me of that trip:


Author: bewilderbeast

It's about life, marriage, raising kids and travel in Africa . . . re-posting thoughts written over decades - at random, I'm afraid.

2 thoughts on “High Speed Tug – or Stress in the Army”

  1. I thought worst journey was in canoe with Brauer 🙄

    Sent from my iPhone


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