Jallopy Glee
I'm very pleased to be able to say that my new car got me home safely with no hint of a mechanical problem in the 250 miles of road that lies between Belfast and Ludlow. The biggest drama was when I nearly hit one of the 300 kamikaze rabbits that threw itself in front of me between Holyhead and home.
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To celebrate this fact I went for a game of pool with my friend Dave tonight. (He won, an omen perhaps?) On the way home, I got a flat tyre on a dark and narrow country lane in the middle of nowhere. I toyed with the idea of trying to go home slowly and fixing it there. This idea appealed more than usual because I’d still got my luggage in the boot which I would have to remove to get at the spare and I wasn’t even sure whether I’d got a spare. I thought it would probably damage the wheel so, I pulled over (into the hedge) and set about it.
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You wouldn’t usually think of a flat tyre as a major incident but on this occasion it caused more trouble than it deserved to. I fumbled around with nothing more than the intermittent glow from my hazard lights so I called Dave who came with a torch 10 minutes later. By which time, I’d got the spare out and had started to jack up the car. I’d also got what I thought was a spanner for undoing the wheel-nuts – closer inspection, with the aid of Dave’s torch revealed it to be a crooked piece of metal with no apparent purpose. We found the spanner soon after but didn’t have a clue what to do next as my car has alloy wheels and we couldn’t access the wheel-nuts.
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We scratched around looking for other tools but couldn’t find anything that might give us access to the wheel-nuts. So, there was only one thing for it. I had to call the RAC. Yes, for the sake of a flat tyre, I called out the RAC; I’m very embarrassed to admit it. It took some time to explain my location to the RAC person who was in Manchester but we came to an understanding that help would be on its way in 75 minutes.
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I rang McAvoy shortly after because I thought he’d be entertained by my misfortune, he and his friends spoke to Dave for about half an hour (for some reason I thought it might be interesting to introduce them) then speaking to me again, McAvoy described the tool in question as a ‘key’. ‘No’ I said, ‘I don’t have one of those, I’ve looked everywhere’. Five minutes later, an awful thought occurred to me. There was a tool of some sort in the pocket in the driver’s door. Dave and I both hoped it wasn’t the right one.
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I took it out and it looked worryingly well designed for the corresponding socket. After a few minutes of fiddling, we had access to the promised-land of wheel-nuts. Three of the nuts were easily loosened but there was a glimmer of hope – the fourth nut was a completely different shape. ‘Well we don’t have a tool for that!’ I thought to myself triumphantly. We were glad that we hadn’t cancelled the RAC man as we’d have looked really stupid having to call again.
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Then, I remembered the other object in my driver’s door pocket. Sure enough, it was the right one and we got the wheel changed on our own. At some point in the middle of this, the RAC mechanic phoned me from town to confirm our location; thankfully, I was able to say that we didn’t need him anymore without being wrong.
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So, I offer up myself for your ridicule in the hope that there might be some redemption in it.
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I have a theory that someone, somewhere, has a car-shaped voodoo doll with my name on it.
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To celebrate this fact I went for a game of pool with my friend Dave tonight. (He won, an omen perhaps?) On the way home, I got a flat tyre on a dark and narrow country lane in the middle of nowhere. I toyed with the idea of trying to go home slowly and fixing it there. This idea appealed more than usual because I’d still got my luggage in the boot which I would have to remove to get at the spare and I wasn’t even sure whether I’d got a spare. I thought it would probably damage the wheel so, I pulled over (into the hedge) and set about it.
-
You wouldn’t usually think of a flat tyre as a major incident but on this occasion it caused more trouble than it deserved to. I fumbled around with nothing more than the intermittent glow from my hazard lights so I called Dave who came with a torch 10 minutes later. By which time, I’d got the spare out and had started to jack up the car. I’d also got what I thought was a spanner for undoing the wheel-nuts – closer inspection, with the aid of Dave’s torch revealed it to be a crooked piece of metal with no apparent purpose. We found the spanner soon after but didn’t have a clue what to do next as my car has alloy wheels and we couldn’t access the wheel-nuts.
-
We scratched around looking for other tools but couldn’t find anything that might give us access to the wheel-nuts. So, there was only one thing for it. I had to call the RAC. Yes, for the sake of a flat tyre, I called out the RAC; I’m very embarrassed to admit it. It took some time to explain my location to the RAC person who was in Manchester but we came to an understanding that help would be on its way in 75 minutes.
-
I rang McAvoy shortly after because I thought he’d be entertained by my misfortune, he and his friends spoke to Dave for about half an hour (for some reason I thought it might be interesting to introduce them) then speaking to me again, McAvoy described the tool in question as a ‘key’. ‘No’ I said, ‘I don’t have one of those, I’ve looked everywhere’. Five minutes later, an awful thought occurred to me. There was a tool of some sort in the pocket in the driver’s door. Dave and I both hoped it wasn’t the right one.
-
I took it out and it looked worryingly well designed for the corresponding socket. After a few minutes of fiddling, we had access to the promised-land of wheel-nuts. Three of the nuts were easily loosened but there was a glimmer of hope – the fourth nut was a completely different shape. ‘Well we don’t have a tool for that!’ I thought to myself triumphantly. We were glad that we hadn’t cancelled the RAC man as we’d have looked really stupid having to call again.
-
Then, I remembered the other object in my driver’s door pocket. Sure enough, it was the right one and we got the wheel changed on our own. At some point in the middle of this, the RAC mechanic phoned me from town to confirm our location; thankfully, I was able to say that we didn’t need him anymore without being wrong.
-
So, I offer up myself for your ridicule in the hope that there might be some redemption in it.
-
I have a theory that someone, somewhere, has a car-shaped voodoo doll with my name on it.
posted by Rowland @ 2:07 am
1 comments
1 Comments:
Before we played that fateful game of pool, we agreed that the loser would make the winner a cup of tea, it was your suggestion. You were the loser but you never kept your word and I'm still waiting.
We made no such agreement about the tyre and the key to the wheel.
Therefore, I owe you nothing and you still owe me a cup of tea. I demand that you fly to Birmingham specially and come to my house to make it for me. Remember to bring a mug, a tea-bag, one sugar lump, a serving of milk, some water, a kettle and 50p for the meter. When I have been satisfied with the tea, you will be responsible to clear up the mess and bog off again. Anything less than this and you will be forever branded, a bounder and a cad!
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