Origami in Epping Forest: The Quest for the Cap

Good evening, folks.

As the great Robert Burns once wrote, “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.” Today was a textbook example of that cosmic law in action, but we made it home in one piece, and the vehicle is finally whole again.

But first, the uniform for today's expedition.

👕 T-Shirt of the Day

The Shirt du Jour: A line of silhouetted figures of various heights marching in profile, carrying backpacks and miscellaneous implements of destruction. The caption underneath: “Middle Earth Hiking Club.” A highly appropriate choice for a man about to embark on a quest up the highway to retrieve a long-lost component and a hoard of heavy batteries.

Act I: The Tactical Pivot

"God moaning," as they say. The day actually started with a flurry of high-productivity. I managed to clear through a bunch of client calls, mostly based up in New South Wales, and strategically lined up a couple of jobs to tackle on the drive home from the station tomorrow night.

With the morning ice and valley fog finally burning off, I decided to pivot. Trying to write app code in a freezing cold office with numb fingers is a fool's errand anyway, so I decided to head to Launceston immediately. The goal: grab the heavy UPS batteries for the client across from the station, and finally pick up Daisy’s new coolant reservoir cap, which had arrived at the Suzuki dealer all the way from Melbourne.

Naturally, the phone lines had other ideas. A barrage of last-minute incoming calls delayed my departure significantly, meaning I hit the highway much later than originally planned.

Act II: The Epping Forest Fold

The mission in Lonny was a total success. I secured the batteries and I finally got my hands on the plastic holy grail—the replacement cap for the coolant reservoir that had been blown into low-Earth orbit when the faulty thermostat caused Daisy to overheat a while back.

But on the journey home, the delay caught up with me. As I approached Epping Forest—a "town" with a roaring population of about ten people on a good day—a crushing, unexpectedly heavy wave of fatigue hit me. Fighting it on the highway is a losing bet, so I pulled the executive decision card and veered into the Epping Forest service station carpark for a power nap.

Now, Daisy is a wonderfully efficient little car, and while she has a surprising amount of headroom, she was never designed to be a luxury sleeper berth for a 188cm tall, 130-odd kilogram man. Trying to find a comfortable angle was like watching a giant origami wizard trying to fold himself into a glovebox.

The planned 10-minute power nap completely backfired, turning into a deep, hour-long slumber. By the time I woke up and stretched my cramped frame back into driving position, the evening's coding window had officially evaporated. The app logic will just have to wait until Sunday.

Act III: Through the Traffic's Red Flare

I finally picked my way back down the valley and into the driveway tonight. Upon parking, a healthy dose of automotive paranoia crept in. Did the new cap survive the highway speeds, or was it currently sitting on the shoulder of the Midland Highway?

I stepped out, popped the bonnet in the dark, and looked down. To borrow a phrase: through the traffic’s red flare, the cap was still there. Firmly secured, perfectly fitted, and bone dry. The cooling puzzle is officially complete.

The Evening Ledger

The code is delayed, but the car is fixed, the client batteries are in the boot, and nobody went off the road. I call that a win.

Tomorrow is another big radio day, with a handful of client jobs booked both before and after the broadcast to keep the roof over my head. For now, it’s time to kick off the boots, let the cats reclaim my lap, and unwind.

Barefoot, Out.