Popped out last night to pick up the missus, and whoopstiming belt gone, I'm sure most of you have, at sometime, tried to push these stylised Chieften tanks on your own, power steering is a wonderful invention until you haven't got it any more, really it should be an Olympic endurance sport at London 2012. so today the garage that has looked after it for me for the last 3 years have it in their workshops, out of the wind rain and the cold, and they are making those kind of inward whistling noises that only car mechanics learn to do properly during their training. I can only assume that 2008 is going to be a cashless year after I finished paying this bill, but it's so worth it, to get my luxary armchair on wheels back under my butt.
So this experience has taught me three things,
1 Christmas is financially avoidable if you can convince your better half that the car is more important than a new set of saucepans and a turkey roasting tin that she was going to get.
2 That space on the driveway, that until now was the sacred and hallowed ground of the Vauxhall Omega (kiss kiss lick lick) has been ursurped by our sons Suzuki Swift and a Fiat Punto, like bind weeds growing on virgin fertile soil, I think I'll need one of those flame throwers to get rid of them once 'daddies' motor comes out of the hospital.
3 Buy the missus a weekly bus ticket, i know the belt would have gone anyway but these things always happen when it's minus 30 degrees, middle of the rush hour and you've popped out quickly with no coat on and you've not even bothered to change out of your slippers, this morning I'd have been dressed ready for action, the garage would have been open and the sun would have been shining.
So here I am at home, got a day off, but can't go anywhere, I feel I'm Mr Unpopular at the moment, like an ugly women that no one wants to kiss, is there some one out there who can reassure me that life is going to be alright again soon and I shouldn't really be so pessimistic, is my 'Meega' going to be a like a new woman after her cosmetic surgery or a reincarnation of the Elephant man coughing and spluttering to the end of her days.
RDJ