Carol’s Column

If the cap fits, steal it

I HAVE a basic flaw.

I discovered it inadvertently only about two months ago.

It happened this way. On a bright and sunny day when the ducks were ducking and the birds tweeting, I popped up to the Rosebank shops to buy a home-made cake from the Home Bake shop so that when my mother-in-law came to tea she would say: "What a lovely cake, did you bake it yourself?"

And I would say: "Yes."

Upon which she would retort: "What a clever little housewife you are and you're such a busy little bee."

At that stage I would nod sagely.

And then she would say: "How lucky my little boy is to have married you."

Naturally, I would agree. Such is the basis of a happy marriage.

Anyway, I emerged from the Home Bake shop triumphantly bearing a delicious chocolate cake with mocha icing and liberally sprinkled with hundreds and thousands.

I placed it on top of my crimson jalopy and scratched around for my car keys that had disappeared into the bowels of my bag.

As I was scrabbling, I noticed a horrible sight. My front right wheel was naked, the hubcap had vanished.

Being passionately attached to my car because of the many hardships we've overcome together, I was distraught. I searched everywhere but it was not to be found. Closer investigation revealed a scratch on my wheel which meant that someone had stolen my hubcap. A prowl around the parking lot did not reveal the thief or the hubcap.

I drove off in a rage forgetting the chocolate cake with mocha icing liberally sprinkled with hundreds and thousands had been perched on the roof. It was no longer there. Caught in a one-way line of traffic, I flew around the block only to discover the cake squashed flat like a hubcap. It is at times like this that one longs to drown oneself in the toilet.

When I got home, I phoned the hubcap shop.

"Hello," I said cheerily to the spare-parts man. My grandmother the Turkish belly dancer from Stellenbosch believed it paid to be cheery in life. "If you're cheerful on earth you'll inherit a cheerful place in heaven," she always said.

Continuing cheerily, I added: "I'm looking for a 1984 Mazda 323 hubcap for my car. Can you please tell me how much a hubcap costs?"

"One hundred and thirty eight rand and twelve cents," he replied.

"No, I don't need four hubcaps, I only need one," I explained, still cheerily.

"Madam, that is the price of one," he replied.

"You're joking," I screeched not cheerily at all. "What is it made of? Gold?"

"Plastic," he retorted with what I thought might have been a tone of disapproval in his voice.

I phoned Piet-the-panelbeater. "Ag, Skattie," he said, "I'll have a look and see if I've got one knocking around. Phone me back in five minutes."

What joy, he had one. I shot off into town, gave him a bottle of whiskey and a big kiss and my small jalopy looked as good as new.

Two days later, the hubcap was gone.

I reported the loss to the Parkview police who were sympathetic but felt the likelihood of them retrieving my hubcap was virtually nil.

"Because they're so expensive, they're easily stolen. In fact there are gangs of hubcap thieves prowling the suburbs with screwdrivers in their pockets," said the charming policeman with the dimple in his chin.

Which is why for the past week I have been prowling the suburbs with a screwdriver in my handbag.

Each time I go out, I circle a parking lot looking for a similar model car. On one occasion, I found one but was beaten into position by someone else.

And then last night I went to the cinema and parked in a dark spot in the corner of the parking garage. Imagine my happiness when I discovered the car parked directly beside me was a 1984 Mazda with identical hubcaps to mine.

I leapt out of my car, looked around, took the screwdriver out of my handbag and knelt down. There was nobody around and it was an ink-black night. Perfect.

But, when it came to the crunch, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

It wasn't that I was worried about receiving a life sentence for stealing a hubcap. No, it was the thought of how unhappy the owner of the hubcap would be when he or she discovered it gone.

As I watched the movie, I reflected sadly that I had a serious flaw. I lacked moral fibre, the excitement and the gumption to change my circumstances.

I am doomed to go through life as a little grey hubcap-less person.

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