Taming the Trolley

You might think that before coming back across the Tasman I would have a couple of things to consider - e.g snakes, spiders, sharks, extreme heat, drought, flood, hail, bad anti-Kiwi jokes etc etc, however, none of that crossed my mind this time. One thing I recall seriously asking myself whether I could live with again was having to use an Australian supermarket trolley.  This one item is, in all honesty, at the top of my list of the most frustrating things about living in this wonderful country so much so that when we are back in New Zealand, going to the supermarket and grabbing a trolley is one of the first things I do again, just for the joy of it.  Somehow the Australian trolley suppliers just haven't figured out how to make one that the average food shopping, parent-of-two, bearer of limited muscle, can steer once it reaches half capacity, let alone full to over-flowing, with one child balancing on the front, one child arguing that they can  push it to the car, while the long-suffering mother furiously digs for car keys in a bottomless handbag full of receipts, 6 months worth of shopping lists, half eaten fruit and a handful of sand from the last trip to the beach.  Either they haven't figured it out or it is their long-running joke on society.
Said children then end up half way across the car park in entirely the wrong direction screaming for help while lines of incoming cars honk and hurl abuse at said mother.
I have spent many a drive home contemplating what exactly is the difference between the superior trolley of New Zealand and its Australian counterpart, I drew a blank but my more technically minded husband points out that the front wheels on NZ trolleys are fixed making steering a breeze.  The Australian trolley , has all wheels free to do as they please, and believe me they do, meaning some degree of upper arm and stomach muscle strength is required if that harassed Supermarketeer is to achieve the desired direction.
My solution to this problem of an unsteerable and unstoppable curse on my weekly food shopping experience?  Park in the space where the carpark slopes downhill and to one side, take a deep breath, let out a Xena warrior princess holler and start running, then hang on for dear life until you come to rest with a jolt against the rear bumper of hopefully your own vehicle - God save anyone crossing your path, they're on their own.  If you can have one of the aforementioned children ready with open boot and you can hit the bumper with enough force you can save yourself the job of actually unloading as all groceries flung out on impact nestle in gracefully leaving you to slam the boot lid and vacate, laughing hysterically at the other poor unfortunate souls being dragged around the carpark by their own wayward trolley, only to return a week later and do it all again.
One more thing to note if you have the inclination to head out for groceries here, make sure you have a gold coin in your pocket in order to release the trolley from the bay it sits silently tethered in so it can not wreak havoc out their on it's own in society.
Stay tuned for my absolute all-time favourite thing about living in this wonderful country.