I've just been reminded about one of the more funny and never to be forgotten incidents involving my best mate's dad, his passport, a DVD store, and people who can't read road signs....
let me explain.
11pm, and northbound on West Coast Highway in Hillarys. Another (former) friend of mine is driving, when someone pulls out ahead of us to also head north. Getting into the roundabout at West Coast and Hepburn, we're in the right hand land and the drive who pulled out ahead of us is in the left.
Who remembers what they were taught about which directions you can go in a two-lane roundabout? Not the gent in question, who decided that taking a right hand turn to go exit three from the left hand land was perfectly normal.
With not enough reaction time to get out of his way, his 25k buzzbox comes across the left passenger side of our White Holden Nova. The Nova had just been brought back to life after an earlier run-in with a Toorak Tractor who tried to run right over the top of it at a junction in East Perth a few weeks back.
Turning up Hepburn Avenue, we move over to the emergency lane to get his details... flashing him to pull over because he looks like he's about to do a runner.
While telling my former friend to stay in the car (who's so furious he would have got out and decked the gent, plus left a few welts for good measure with his steel capped boots), I walk over to the other driver when my mobile goes off.
As if the stars had just aligned to make the worst circumstances and timing happen all at this very moment in the space/time continuum - it's my best mate on the line.
His dad is at the airport bound for LHR - and he's left his passport at the DVD rental store we ran at the time. I'm the only other keyholder close enough to the store, and with our car virtually toast I pull a hail mary pass out of nowhere.
Within 5min, I'd walked the other driver back to the roundabout, explained his mistake to him and got him to admit liability at the scene, and taken his details (one from the expired non-photo license he tried to pass off as his, and the real one I spotted in his wallet).
The Nova was virtually unserviceable, with the entire front left bodywork destroyed, tyre out of alignment, and the macpherson struts having taken some significant damage due to the impact speed. Ripping the bumper right off was going to be enough for it to get to the store where I'd already had my best mate in distress arrange for his sister to be ready and waiting for me to make a sprint to the airport.
Almost on queue, his sister rocks up just as I exit the store with passport in hand - and she makes a mad dash for PER T1 where the passport arrives with barely 20min to spare.
Nothing like a hail mary play come good.