Summer weather may have turned sour, but lots of people are
still looking for vacation tips. A couple of weeks ago, I started this story
about travelling Ukraine in a car. Everything was fine until my engine stopped
on the Zhytomyr bypass at two-thirty in the morning.
None
of our Kyiv friends with cars were able to come out [see RC#58]. A tow to Kyiv was
going to cost at least Hr 620, nearly $120 – without even starting on repairs.
I passed on the offer. Serhiy, the manager of a café where we managed to find
shelter and a telephone, agreed.
“You’d
be better off getting the car into Zhytomyr and repairing it there,” he said
reasonably. “It won’t cost so much.” He was right, of course. The question was,
how? So far, not a single car or truck had stopped to help. Another hour went
by. The coffee and tea got colder.
Just
then, we heard a knock at the door. A heavyset man in a dark suit opened the
door.
“Pryvit,
Serhiy,” he said.
I
paid no attention to their conversation as I sipped my coagulated coffee.
“You
folks need a little tow?” the man suddenly asked. Serhiy’s morning visitor just
happened to manage an CTO, a state car repair shop, in Zhytomyr.
“I’m
heading in right now. I’ll get the boys to come out with a tow.”
What
luck! We thanked Serhiy profusely, paid him for our breakfast, and gathered up
our belongings.
Twenty
minutes later, a smallish man in a white Neva pulled up. He hooked up our car
with a rope and explained:
“Steer
the car behind me and keep the rope taut.”
We
wound our way down potholed back streets. A couple of times, I got the tension
wrong. We ran over the rope, stopped, rolled back. Finally, we reached the CTO.
“Nah,
we don’t do imports. Not engine jobs,” said a guy in greasy overalls. “Not our
area.” My heart sank. “But you can try the import place down on the main drag.
They do Daewoos for sure.”
Off
we went again. Five minutes later, we turned into the import shop. I went up to
the window with the CTO driver.
“No,
we can’t do a Daewoo right now. Our mechanic’s busy,” said an unhelpful man
with whiskers behind the request window. “Maybe tomorrow.”
The
CTO guy shrugged his shoulders. He’d done what he could. I paid him his Hr 40
and walked back to my car.
“Hello,
hello?” A young man in a burgundy shirt and navy tie ran up to me. “You have a
car that’s broken down?”
“I
think I blew my engine.”
“And
they wouldn’t take you?” he asked incredulously. “Hold on a sec. Let me see
what’s going on.”
I
followed him back to the window.
“What
do you mean, ‘Ihor’s working on a Lada.’ We do Daewoos. That’s our business!”
The
young man waved me to follow him through the shop to a back room where engines
were rebuilt. There, a sulky young man was carefully taking apart a motor.
“Ihor,
I want you to look at what’s going on with this Daewoo. You can do the Lada
later.” He turned to me. “Here’s my mobile number just in case. I’ll be back
around five.”
Ihor
reluctantly followed me back to our car. Lifted the hood. Tinkered around. I
watched him carefully undo some tubes and connectors.
“Your
water pump’s seized.” He went back to work.
The
water pump? This was the best news I’d heard yet. It couldn’t be a tenth as
expensive as a rebuilt engine.
“How
long will it take?” I asked.
“Not
long. You have to get a pump and a belt. I don’t know what we have in stock.”
Neither,
as it turned out. Half an hour later, we were in Ihor’s car driving around
Zhytomyr picking up parts. The pump was no problem. The very first store had
it. Just looked it up in their catalog, found it on the shelf, and wrote up a
bill. Hr 195. That was a darn sight better than the Hr 500 the shop had quoted.
The
belt was another matter. We tried four car parts places. One even offered to
order it for the next morning. I passed.
We
drove back to the shop. I went to the accountant to pay Hr 78 for the repair
work. “Isn’t there anything we can do to get a belt today?” I asked her.
“Well,
some of our boys are driving back a couple of new cars from Kyiv today. Maybe
they can pick up the belt for you.” Several phone calls later, she smiled at
me. “I’ve left them the order. They’re due here by five-thirty or six.”
Ihor
had gone back to the Lada engine. Time dripped by. At five o’clock, he informed
me that his day was over. I ran to the accountant and said, “Can’t you just ask
him to stay on and let him come in later tomorrow?” I pleaded. “We can’t stay
overnight for this!”
Oddly
enough, the accountant had the power to do just that. So Ihor went off happily
to work on his own car, while we waited for the crew to arrive from Kyiv with
our belt.
Around
seven-thirty, the boys finally rolled in. I grabbed the belt and went to the
shop to pay for it. Hr 84.
In
less than an hour, Ihor had the pump installed and the belt on. I was so happy
to be going home, I gave him a Hr 25 tip.
Total
cost for the whole mess, tip and tow included? Hr 412. About two thirds the
cost of a tow to Kyiv…
I
told you this story had a happy ending. Now get out there and drive around
Ukraine a little! •
–from the
ramblin’ notes of Pan O.
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