The Wilkie curse strikes again! My car failed it MOT. Not surprising – I have never had one pass. Ever. But it wasn’t too bad – a fractured rear spring and a compliance bush at the front. Two easy fixes. Except I have a bad back and struggle to get down on the floor. And Tim has got a bad back and struggles to get down on the floor. And my brother who was up from Kent has a number of ailments which – yep you’ve guessed it, means he struggles to get down on the floor. Irene has got a bad back as well but she can’t mend cars. Well maybe she can. But she has never tried. Bake cakes and pies and she is brilliant. But that’s another story. The main problem with not being able to get down on the floor (apart from the fact that it is so far away) is the fact that it is a struggle to pick things up when gravity has had its wicked way with it. This means that yer floor gets full up and you finish up wading through all the stuff that has been dropped over a number of years. Which is fine, except that yer ceiling then gets lower and you keep banging your head on door lintels. Anyway, I digress.
I ordered the bits for my car – two rear springs (it’s best to do pairs) and two front suspension control arms (I got an advisory on the other arm opposite the one that failed) and some brake pads and front discs. The springs and suspension arms duly arrived. I immediately knew there was a problem because one spring box was taped up with masking tape and bore the legend *wrong part in box.” Nah it couldn’t mean that the wrong part was STILL in the box, could it? Well one spring was at least six inches shorter than the other and about two inches less in diameter. Yep, you’ve guessed it – the wrong spring was still in the box. Never mind, I could change one for the MOT and do the other one at my leisure. At least I had the suspension arms to fit. Wrong. I needed to replace the offside one for the MOT. I could fit that and then get the MOT and change the other one at my leisure. Except they sent two of the same. Both nearside and one without the compliance rubber in it. Oh dear, “What a disappointment” or very similar words were used to express well……my disappointment. What cretin ( and I am being very kind here) would do that and pick the wrong parts. Well one that saw the name Wilkie – that’s who.
SO it was up early in the morning to go to the local branch of the car spares company. I had bought the other bits on the internet an they came from London so it wasn’t possible to get them back there without using the post or a courier.
I looked up the local branch on the internet and clicked on the local map to find out exactly where it was but all it showed was a little arrow in the general direction and Park Road on the Queens Drive industrial estate. Simples as the little meerkat would say. After driving round all the roads on the estate and all of the bloody cul-de-sacs and nooks and crannies, we were no further forward. We were in Alex car and he has got a state of the art sat nav so all we had to do was call them up and ask for the address and get directions. Easy peasy. NOT. They sent us to Nottingham City centre which I knew was not right but who was I to argue as a mere mortal against the dulcet tones and silky voice of the SMart nav lady. Half an hour later we were driving in the centre of Nottingham with taxis and buses coming at us from all directions. Yep you’ve guessed right dear reader, the road I used last week was now prohibited to us mortals. I suppose my picture detailing my indiscretion will be, as they say, in the post with a demand to wrestle a considerable sum from my bank account.
We phoned Tim. He was in bed asleep. So we phoned Irene who declined to answer the phone. Finally we got Tim roused and he looked up the post code on the internet. Simples. Now we could phone the smart nav lady and give hter the post code instead of the name of the company. Except the smart nav phone kept saying that the network was unable to connect. Finally we got through and were soon wending our weary way to the correct destination. Which was near to Queens Drive but on another estate called NG2.
The queue was not massive. There were only three in front of us. But there was only one very harassed lad serving. And all of his customers wanted things that didn’t seem to exist in spite of his massive database of car parts. Then the one in front of us wanted trade discount which he wasn’t entitled to so that took another ten minutes while he argued his forty pence discount. I nearly gave him fifty pence from my own pocket and told him to keep the change.
I was totally surprised and amazed when the little man with his big ego tripping computer put my car registration in and then shook his head. We haven’t got one of them. No kidding? He can get one first thing on Monday. Well dear reader I wait with baited breath. After this, cancer is a piece of cake!
Alex did an absolutely sterling job changing the spring. It was bitterly cold and I have nothing but praise for him but he is going home on Monday, so I have got to change the suspension arm myself. Except that I have a bad back. And Tim has got a bad back. And Irene has got a bad back……………Kezzerbabe. Where are you?
_______________________________________________________
