In January 1994, while having a fantastic holiday in LA, California, Steve and I decided to take our adventure to the next level by renting a Harley Davidson and riding to Vegas for a few days. Little did we know that the real adventure would begin once we returned the bike back in LA to spend our last few days wandering around Venice Beach.
As I tried to withdraw some cash off my credit card at an ATM, I was surprised when my request was declined. I knew I had plenty of credit and money in my account, so thought it could be a glitch with the ATM machine. Perhaps the machine had run out of cash? I tried multiple other machines, walking up and down the promenade at Venice Beach, even trying requests for smaller amounts, but to no avail.
Panic set in. I couldn’t phone my bank at home for a few hours due to the time difference. When I finally managed to reach them, they informed me a large charge had been put on my credit card which had maxed out my card. It turned out that the charge was for the Harley rental deposit for the Excess – a few thousand dollars. I contacted the Harley rental place and asked them to remove the charge, but while they said they would, it would take a few days, up to a week, to clear.
More panic set in. This was a time before the ubiquity of mobile phones and the internet. Business hours were strictly observed, and there was no internet banking or other similar ‘apps’. We had already spent all of our holiday cash and were down to our last $20, which wasn’t going to last long. To make things worse, we had put all of our cash for our holiday onto my credit card, which was the only one we had.
Luckily, we had our hotel accommodation already booked and paid for, but we faced the prospect of pretty much living like a couple of broke and starving hobos on our last few days in LA without any money to buy food, let alone souvenirs or a taxi back to the airport. This just wouldn’t do.
Additionally, we were fast approaching a long weekend with a public holiday for Martin Luther King Jr. Day. This meant all banks in the USA would be closed. We had a limited time to find a solution to this problem.
Being in this pickle, I decided to phone my Dad back in Australia to see if he had any bright ideas. And you know what? He actually did come to the rescue with a clever idea. He offered to wire me some money using Western Union. I did not hesitate to accept his generous offer.
The next morning, with no time to waste, we walked for 30 minutes to the nearest Western Union location and, to our utter relief, managed to get some cash just before everything closed for the long weekend. It was a close call and thankfully, the rest of our holiday went smoothly after that.
Looking back, the crisis we faced was like a rollercoaster ride of emotions and adrenaline. It’s amazing how a single phone call with my Dad saved the day and secured his place as my hero. And now, 30 years later, Steve and I still laugh about this crisis and how we thought we’d have to sell our souls for a few bucks. Thanks, Dad!