New Adventures of Shauny and Manuel

There has been progress in the Learning To Drive A Stick caper. My sister has been such a patient teacher, putting up with me shrieking "What gear?! What gear!?" in the exact same ear-piercing pitch that Tweety Bird says "I did! I did taw a puddytat!" She's also survived two brushes with death in which I failed to give way (too busy enquiring about the gear I was in) and only slightly rolls her eyes when I stop at the lights, hand poised over the handbrake, asking in panicky tones, "Is this a hill? Is this a hill?", even when the road is perfectly flat. Rhi's in Queensland this week on a business trip, leaving me to fend for myself. I fully planned to stay housebound and walk anywhere I needed to go, but soon I was eating nothing but Vegemite and some suspect-looking bread. It was time to venture out in Manuel all on my own. I've driven to work, to the supermarket, to the movies, out to Fyshwick (to order my new puter, NOT to buy porn. I know what you're thinking, Canberra kids) only stalling twice, only crunching the gears three times in total. Not too shabby, I thought. Then today it all came undone. I went out to buy supplies for a gathering tonight, and the Saturday morning traffic was a little crazy. But I made it home in one piece. I parked Manuel and popped open the hatch, got out of the car and promptly slammed the door shut, locking the keys inside. My heart turned to shit. We only have two sets of keys, and the other is in Cairns right now. I examined the hatch and tried to remove the cover thingy. It wouldn't budge. I wondered if I could somehow dive over the cover thingy without getting my fat arse lodged in the small gap between the back seat and the ceiling. We've only had Manuel for a month, and I didn't want to have to explain a hacked-up hatch to my sister. So I decided to be more resourceful. All I had to do was find something long enough to reach from the back of the car to one of the doors, then I could somehow unlock the door. There were no long objects inside the car, so in the end I took off one of the windscreen wiper blades, launched myself into the back of the car, grunting and swearing, poking the wiper around until I finally flipped up the lock. "Woohoo!" I yelled. "Well hello there!" said my neighbour, who until now has not said boo to me, but chose the moment when I was wedged in the back of my car with my arse in the air to happen along and introduce himself. If anyone is any good at reattaching wiper blades, please let me know.

About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m Shauna, an author, copywriter and content mentor. I love telling stories about life and helping others to tell theirs.

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12 thoughts on “New Adventures of Shauny and Manuel

  1. Ugh. Locking your keys in the car has to be one of the most annoying things in the world.

    And don’t worry, you’ll be able to drive a stick in no time!

  2. Hey shauny, that is one reason I’m so glad my latest car came with an emer. key thing that fits in my wallet. Haven’t locked my keys in my car since!

  3. What a great time for your neighbour to pop by.

    I was wondering. Does this box look a bit odd with no comments in it, or do you just hate the look of “0 comments”?

    I’ll be over soonish, by the way 😀

  4. Reminds me of one time I locked my keys in my car, with the engine still running.

    Locking your keys in a recently aquired car is, I think, a standard rite of passage. The car plays this practical joke on you as a kind of test, in which it tried to deny being your car. But, of course, the test is inevitably passed (even if it involves calling NRMA), though of course with some humiliation along the way. But when the car yields its keys to you, it finally concedes to your ownership of it.

    In other word’s, it’s Manuel’s way of saying ‘I belong to you!’

    Hope he doesn’t give you any more stick!

  5. Why would anyone BUY porn when they can buy a new computer and DOWNLOAD it like the rest of us using the Internet for its full, albeit illicit, advantages. Really, Shauny, there’s no need to justify yourself here. Any self-respecting Internet savvy user knows that there are not only arsenals of porn that are out there to be downloaded, that indeed the porn will find its way to your hard drive whether you want it there or not, but that there are infinite shades and varieties of porn available for foot fetishists, diaper-wearing accountants who are whipped as a reward for uttering the words “Mommy! I must have another,” outre enthusiasts who have considered Barney the dinosaur as having infinitely more cavities than the purple mouth that many children have regrettably learned to love, and, in some cases, an unrequited love for Pat Sajak. The Internet’s primary purpose, it would seem, would be to unite everyone’s sexual preferences and, through the use of’s collaborative filtering, allow one to receive recommendations based upon their peccadilloes.

    Thus, purchasers of Dave Eggers are recommended:

    1. The Missionary Position
    2. The Living Room Blow Job With the Blinds Lowered
    3. Minimal Use of Whipped Cream (Approx. 3 Ounces to Preserve Skin Tone, Comes With Brocaded Napkin)

    And purchasers of Terry Southern or Catherine Millet’s recent lurid bestseller, The Sexual Life of Catherine M., are recommended:

    1. Bitchslapping by a Swedish Courtesan
    2. Thermometer Inserted Into Area of Your Choice, Accompanied by a Chopin Etude
    3. Tennis Racket Applied to Bottom in Public Tennis Court

  6. d’oh! i will have to fixed it up. mattay – it looks like i didn’t save it properly last night 🙁

    ed – that has to be your best comment yet!

  7. Hopefully the fixed Palm piccie made its way to your inbox last night – although my email seems to be playing up :/

    Long live the Screaming Silence of your Impending Doom! (Sorry, couldn’t resist)


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