Domkrag

I got to thinking, which I prefer not to do, but the nagging feeling eventually forced me to address the issue: What if I had a puncture in sandy soil?

Ah, shit, OK, I’d better address that.

See, I had fitted new shocks to the bakkie which raised it. And the bakkie’s jack was already too puny and couldn’t lift the vehicle high enough, so I should do something about it. Botswana’s Central Kalahari Game Reserve is known to have a bit of sand in places, and there have been times I’ve watched my jack heading down into the sand towards Australia without the bakkie lifting up even one millimetre. That’s not good. It’s unhelpful.

Also, I have long been of the opinion that the elderly should not exhibit their plumber’s crack to the public at any time. Not even when changing a flat tyre in the sand.

So I went to Ford in Mbombela and the nice man didn’t just sell me an R800 jack. No, he said, “Let Me Look At Yours First. The new ones aren’t any bigger than the old ones.” That surprised me, as the new Rangers look a lot bigger and higher than my 15yr-old Ranger.

I unpacked the kak off my back seat and pulled the backrest forward to show him . . . the bracket for the jack and the bracket for the jack handle. No jack, no jack handle! I’ve been jackless for who knows how long! Not just clueless, also jackless. I’ve been driving on faith, hope n charity alone.

So the kind man fetched a new jack, but he was right: It looked just like my missing one: Small and made of tinfoil. I almost bought it on the grounds of it being anyway better than no jack, but luckily the good man suggested I first look at Midas, then at Askari offroad trailer place.  At Midas I almost bought a R1500 bottle jack but luckily the people there were totally unhelpful – didn’t even lift their heads when I walked in, so I walked out. Still no heads lifted.

At Askari the very helpful fellow saw me coming. He said, ‘I’m Sommer Going To Show Oom Ve Best Fing First, Oom. My Boss Uses One of Vese’ – and he did! So I bought a R5000 ten ton jack on the following logical basis: 1. I’m on my own; 2. I’m old; 3. I don’t want to huff and puff with my arse in the air showing my plumbers crack sukkeling; and 4. I’m a sucker.

I bought this automatic, pushbutton, plug-in, motor-driven, remote-operated ten ton 552mm lift hydraulic bottle jack GT DOMKRAG – turbo. Check out the impressive pic.

‘It comes in a very nice carrybag, Oom,’ he said reassuringly, so I knew I’d got a bargain and he knew he’d got a sale.

Maybe this is why the Afrikaans for jack is ‘domkrag?’

~~oo0oo~~

domkrag – literally dumb strength

sukkeling – struggling; battling

Oom – old goat

~~oo0oo~~

Update: I tested it. Sadly there is still a plumber’s crack moment when you have to position the damn thing, but after that it’s all nonchalant dignity and pressing a button on a remote while hitching up your trousers and watching the car rise with satisfaction. As long, of course, as the ground beneath you is not too sandy.

Downdate: One year later, when I really needed it, my DOMKRAG failed! It would go UP but it wouldn’t go DOWN! Stuck. Bah!!

In the Central Kalahari Game Reserve we needed to change a tyre on a big trailer three times and a mechanical bottle jack showed its worth. I now carry two of them and two planks to stand them on. The advanced techno-domkrag is for sale – wanna buy it?