"And he's going for the Motor Car!"
This is probably going to be a bit of a short entry this time round, although with the number of visitors here I can’t imagine that this will come as much of a disappointment to anyone.
Had a good old trip to the car boot this weekend and for once it decided to give us a bit of nice weather instead of the usual trick of pee-ing down only to give us a cheery and bright Monday. It didn’t take long to spot a nice set of Giraf glasses, which I grabbed in double quick time. The fella on the stall was also selling a pair of Harrods glasses advertising “The Green Man Pub”, what I’ve since found out is that this very famous London store has an in-house pub where they try to recreate an authentic capital city feel. Well I guess it makes a change from the usual department store canteens but I’m thinking that sometimes the dog-baiting pit gets in the way for the Prada bag totting shoppers? Anyway I buy these Harrods glasses as well and the chap places both boxes into my outstretched arms.
He then says, “Do you want some free cocktail shakers?”
“Mmmm, not really” I reply
“Oh go on” continues the bloke and chucks two or three Havana Club cocktail shakers into the empty glasses.
“Oh, ok, thanks,” says I
“Have a free Father Christmas hat as well!”
“No really, it’s ok”
“Nah, go on” he steamrollers on and then places a stupid Santa hat on my head. So with both my hands full of glasses I am helpless to prevent him.
“No, great, thanks” I just about mutter.
I curse the day that Frau Benz, wife of German inventor Karl Benz complained that she was sick of popping to the shops for the daily sauerkraut and milsch as it was hard on her feet, or it took ages for the grooms to ready the horses and the carriage and wouldn’t it be great if there was a mechanical contraption that they could jump into and “drive” down to the kaufzentrum? While Herr Benz might have begun the revolution into motorised transportation he also condemned me to an ongoing and never-ending life of clapped out unreliable vehicles and huge mechanic’s bills.
It could only be Sod’s law that decided that both cars would take a step nearly the great car-graveyard in the sky in the same week. The clutch on the Hyundai has “gone”, quite where nobody knows (hoho), and requires replacing and that’s not mentioning the wheel bearings, which have caused us to either drive with ear plugs or with the radio turned to max for the last year. My red rocket Renault didn’t like being forced down to Marlow for the brewery visit and since then has been jerking like a teenage boarding school pupil left alone in the dormitory or cutting out at traffic lights like a Blue Peter presenter on crack that’s been split with top class heroine that’s been powered up by a……………………. (yeah ok we get the idea). Anyway it turns out that I have a split exhaust, but not any old split exhaust, no, my split is just on the v-section where the two pipes from the engine meet, rendering any sort of patching unworkable. What getting it up on the ATS ramps did prove though was that two of the suspension bushes are “shot” (technical term meaning “fucked”) and the engine has an oil leak. Add this to the messed up brakes, the non-working radiator and the defunct fan and I reckon that the car has served its purpose!
So it’s down to the bargain bucket basement area again to search for a new motor. There’s a chap at work selling a 1991 Toyota Carina, which I’ve taken for a test drive. To be honest it is immaculate inside, the guy must either be a compulsive cleaner or he doesn’t actually drive it and simply transports it to work and back, he certainly hasn’t had any kids in it anyway!
I’ve just recreated a classic comedy moment in my own living room. I’ve avoided seeing the England – Croatia football score all evening in preparation for watching match of the day, only for the bloody Gashman to text me saying how the result was bad news! Well thanks for nothing you bloody skinny rickets ridden twig man!
