Back in the days when my Nokia was state of the art, I went on a date with Kim. We both worked in the motorcycle industry, me as a salesman for big brand franchise, her as a counter chick for her dad’s independent shop. It took months of hints and asking before Kim agreed to a date.

I was fairly broke and a good solid 6/10. Kim was at least a 9, modeled and raced, and had parents with a fair bit of cash. I was out of my league.

I borrowed a current model HSV Grange from a mate with both more money and more taste than me, and dutifully picked Kim up. We went to a Thai restaurant that turned out to be 6kilometres from her house.

When we got there, our table wasn’t ready as the previous couple had stayed longer than anticipated. We went to the bar to wait. I ordered a beer, Kim ordered a raspberry vodka cruiser.

The bartender proceeded to hand me my drink and spill the cruiser all over Kim. And Kim’s skintight white pants. Which were immediately see through. We decided to leave and went to the car.

I pushed the button on the key to unlock it. Nothing. I pushed it again. And again. And eventually stuck the key in the door. Like a peasant. I opened the door, put the key in the ignition- click. Click. Click. Click. Dammit.

I asked Kim to sit in the drivers seat and turn the key when I asked her to.

I opened the bonnet (hood for you non-Aussies) and used my entire mechanical knowledge and wiggled the battery connection. We had lights on the dash! Then, as I held the wire against the battery terminal, Kim turned the key. On the plus side, the car started.

When I had picked myself up, I drove Kim home. I walked her to the door and-smoothly I thought- went in for a kiss. She backed away, grabbed my hand and shook it, and disappeared inside.

20 years later (roughly) we met at a function. Her eyes went wide and she turned her back and walked away.