At 16:00 on Valentine's Day The One was at our local Spar, buying bread and milk and something for a special little dinner for the two of us. He'd stopped there on his way home from visiting Mother.
I was at home, taking a nap after a hard morning at work.
Meanwhile, outside the shop three car guards watched a thief break into our car, hotwire it and drive off. They proved useless as witnesses; for all we know they were in on the deal. The One had left his phone in the car and with no way of raising the alarm, he was forced to walk home with his shopping.
I heard him come back but I was so drowsy that I didn't realise the car wasn't there. He woke me with the bad news. At first I thought he was joking but then I looked outside and saw the empty parking spot.
There wasn't much time to let the shock take hold. We had to block his phone and sim card. Then we had to go to the police station to report the theft. Having, ahem, no car, we had to walk the five kilos to Silverton Police Station where we ran into some inevitable red tape. Apparently our suburb falls under the jurisdiction of another police station - Villieria - even though it is much further away and not within walking distance. I am afraid I lost it and stormed out but The One calmly explained our situation and they assisted him.
In the process two young guys who were laying a complaint against their landlord heard him and kindly offered us a ride home. I guess I should learn to control my temper.
Fast forward six weeks.
The car had been insured but Santam has presented an endless series of loops for us to jump through before they will settle the straightforward claim. As it stands, they still haven't given us a cent.
Even though I have been a loyal customer for more than twenty years, Nedbank also refused any form of help.
We desperately searched for a car that we could afford. Second hand seemed to be the only option given our budget. Still, our fairy godmother was vigorously shaking her wand at us.
Today we took delivery of our brand new Datsun Go.
More than a month without a car is no joke and wish it only on my bitterest enemies. As a final farewell to the theft of our beloved Nissan, The One had to walk to the dealership so we could sign the final documents. I had to present a valid driver's license to complete the finance puzzle and spent the morning in long queues at the Licensing Department; my license expired two years ago.
All the i's dotted and the t's crossed, Eye of the Tiger started blaring over the showroom speakers. We were led to our car, completely draped with a huge bow on top. As we walked closer, people started clapping and cheering. The drape lifted and everyone came to shake our hands and congratulate us. It was beautiful and touching. Had I not been so overwhelmed I would have been bawling.