New year, new wheels. The trusty VW Golf TDi, Binwids, cost me just one £80 fill up too many and together with the diesel emissions thing, the VW software fiddle and the fact that it I no longer need to drive over 100 miles a day to do my job, it was time to retire it. Fortunately Mr Big Man, the boss, bought it off me for his brother. Which was nice; and he thought so too.
So now I drive this little zippy thing
It’s a Smart ForFour with Nightsky and it’s slicker than the hair on a 1950’s binman and fewer miles on the clock than the coast of Wales. It even has heated seats, so Zoe is happy and the number plate is handily blurred so that I don’t get caught by speed cameras and ANPRs.
Of course today was my first proper outing in it and I quickly remembered how it was when I used to drive the AX.
My first car, the Citreon AX Jive, with Mrs Gnomepants Mk1
That was a nice car too, but you often found that van and truck drivers and wankers in BMWs thought that they could drive as close as they liked. In the Vectra, the Golf and the Hyundai Coupe, I noticed they held well back. Though I did notice that BMW drivers remained wankers. Of course, back then I didn’t know that BMW drivers only drive BMWs because they can’t actually drive and that driving a BMW is the motoring equivalent of cycling with stabilisers. Trufacs.
Although it is built by Mercedes Benz, as you can see, the Smart actually comes with indicators and, unlike Jaguars, it actually has a decent accelerator. Indeed, you might also notice that it has mirrors too, something sadly lacking on Audis. Not only that, you won’t see any rust on the vehicle which proves that Ford had nothing to do with it.
The Vectra (heap of useless tits it is) decided that it was going to be a naughty girl today and leaked brake fluid all over the mechanic while it was up on the ramp. As a punishment the mechanic (who’s name wasn’t Mike) thought that failing it on it’s MOT would teach it a lesson. And rightly so, I’d have done the same. It also decided that suspension bushes are a bit gay and that allowing them to wear out would make it look a bit raunchy. Well the mechanic didn’t think so. So instead of failing on the emissions and brakes it failed on the brake pipe and the suspension bushes. So that’s only like 3 things.
So another day without a car. To repair the fucker it will cost me approximately £140.
Still it’s cheaper than a new car and I’ll save that in not buying the petrol that I would have bought for the Mondeo.
Today I bid farewell to the Mondeo. Thank fuck. Lately the drivers door hasn’t been locking correctly and that was just about the last straw. I promise Never to go back to a Ford. They’ve gone shit since they stopped making them at Halewood and my Uncle retired.
Tonight I try to resuscitate the Vectra. I’ve got an Emergency heart starter thing (a battery charger) and I’m going to put on my best doctors outfit (tatty jeans and paint splattered rugby shirt) and revive that old girl. No doubt I will shriek “It lives!” in my best Colin Clive if/when it does start.
Tomorrow I take the Vectra for an MOT.
Did I say I might have sold that heap of shit back to the bloke who sold it to me?
The last time I’m buying a car because of it’s luxurious looking interior.
Hopefully I’ll have the Vectra sorted by Wednesday next week. Providing I can book it in for an MOT that is…..
I had to be all manly today and try and fix two cars. So, after rubbing my face with dirt from the car and rolling a roll up cigarette I stood looking at both cars and pretended I knew what I was doing.
I popped the bonnet open on one of the cars. Poked around inside and tutted.
Having then reached the limit of my mechanical expertise I drove to a scrap yard where I was joined by similarly attired gentlemen who then stood around the Fiesta and tutted, sighed a bit and shook their heads. Eventually a price was plucked out of the ether and £50 later I came away with a new bulb for the Mondeo, a car stereo and a new wheel for the Fiesta.
My job done I settled back down to a less manly state of loading the dishwasher, doing a bit of tidying and moisturising my hands.
Ah the joys of being a modern man.
The wife and I have “an agreement” which dates back to when we only had one car. Since the Fitzwilliam Green Nasty Barbeque we are back to being a one car family. The “agreement” goes something like this
When I am off work and the wife is not and I need the car – I have to get up early, drive her into work and possibly pick her up if required. Arranging my day around these events. She is allowed to discuss the fairness of this arrangement and even veto the use of the car.
When the wife is off work and I am not and she needs the car – I have to get up even earlier, get the bus/a lift/walk into work (using my own money for fares if required) and make arrangements for a return journey as necessary. Allowing her to languish in bed and change her mind (as is her right) and stay in all day watching home interior design programmes and I am forbidden to discuss the fairness of this arrangement under pain of death.
That’s fair isnt it?
After last nights events I told the wife it would only take one more major incident and I’d be moving back to Liverpool or somewhere (though not down south because its too tense there…maybe somewhere up north and rural like Berwick on Tweed or Barnards Castle). Anyway, she agreed with my sentiments but I think she thinks I’m over reacting.
I feel like I’ve won the lotto only to find the money I won is tainted with the blood and lives of millions of innocent victims of genocide. The house is lovely, Brierley and parts of Yorkshire really picturesque. I just wish there were better jobs and the nasty thieving scum bag people would all get taken to some far off place (like Felixstowe or Colchester) to spend their time with their hands behind their back, on their knees with bags over their heads and abused by shouty military type people. Without trial….like they do in other countries…
Jill, the wifes bosses wife, called last night too. She was with the wife when they realised the car had been burnt out. She called to give the wife the number of the police station so that she could report the damage to the car. Jill runs the drama group, I volunteer at, at the wife’s work, outside of which the car was pinched.
Jill: And that’s the number. Its terrible what’s happened
stegzy: Yes it is. But what to do eh?
Jill: Will you be at drama Thursday night?
stegzy: As long as I’ve got somewhere safe to park my car…yes.
Electrical work is almost complete. I was pleased to capture a car on the Gate cam at 4am this morning thanks to the sparkly new security light. Turns out it was G-the-human-dog on his way out to the flower market. (He’s organising a funeral for his mother in law who died the other night). I’m really impressed with the way that the camera works. I might fork out the £20 for the actual software licence….unheard of I know!
The wife was working late tonight.
Her car , the green fiesta (aka the green nasty), has been stolen from outside her work and set on fire.
She is a bit upset.
RIP green Fiesta. 1995-2007
One of the last times it was captured on film 😦
It used to belong to my mum who drove and parked it through some of the roughest areas of Liverpool such as Knotty Ash, Cantril Farm, Croxteth, Old Swan and Edge Lane.
It spent time parked and unmolested on Huskisson Street in Toxteth, Bootle, Albert Dock, Halewood and in the University campus.
It was finally burnt to death in Fitzwilliam, West Yorkshire. It takes with it a pair of lovely gold shoes, spectacles and some cassette tapes.
The Vectra is fixed. Well…its MOT’d. There is still the need for a service. I’m tempted to do it myself (New oil and air filters, new spark plugs etc) but after the bodged job I made of changing the light bulb in the headlamp I’m slightly reluctant. Still it would be cheaper than getting some grease monkey to do it.
Rant about toff parents in Ipswich. Nothing to see here move along