Interval III: Of the Bane that is the Automobile
Partly because the camels favourite straw has today landed on my back, and partly because it takes too much effort to make these things sound eloquent (as the previous post is testament to) I've decided to take a breather from the regularly scheduled update to bitch and whine about my privelleged, middle-class existence - along the lines of a Chuck Palahniuk quote: Things you own end up owning you.
My digital camera was eaten up by an A-class Mercedes that doubled as a B&B to four guys visiting the north coast (watch for the sequel to The Fairest Cape coming soon enough damn it!). Last week the Mazda's petrol cap mysteriously went missing and I used the ancient BMW until I bought a replacement later on the same day. I leave the headlights on at Varsity and have to wait for Campus Security's assistance - except the guy drives past me and I have to wait 20 minutes longer in the rain before I am helped on my way. I buy the petrol cap and forget the BMW outside in the driveway.
The Stepdad arrives home to tell me that the BMW's doors and boot are standing open. The radio, speakers and amp have all been jacked after the driverside doorlock has been damaged during the break in. Since the car has been put up for sale that day (I motion to refer to "Fate" as "that miserable bastard" from here on out) as that miserable bastard would have it, I need to have the lock repaired and replace the radio and speakers.
This week I decided to put that all behind me. I wake up after an eventful farewell for Andy (where a number of incidents occurred among a number of people that have no reason to think favourably of me) to find a substance - which could be alcohol but seems suspiciously like urine - splashed all over the bonnet of the Mazda. No problem, the gardener took care of that - again at my expense.
I get very good mileage (what is that in metric? kilometerage, meterage [your abstract prefix here]-age) and my petrol tank indicator is slightly suspect (there is no reserve light; when the tank is full the needle reads past the full indicator; when the car is switched off, the needle reads past the empty indicator) so that miserable bastard decides that today I run out of fuel on my way to work. My lovely mother brings me some fuel and the car won't start. I say "let's give it a minute to settle". She says "I'll call the AA". It turns out that a coil (don't ask me) seems to be misbehaving and needs to be replaced. If I had to work after the flatbed truck tow-in I think some disciplinary action would have been warranted.
Next hot-air expulsion likely to cause a warm front can be expected upon me receiving marks for the first varsity assignment that I absolutely know will be under-appreciated...
Rant concluded.
My digital camera was eaten up by an A-class Mercedes that doubled as a B&B to four guys visiting the north coast (watch for the sequel to The Fairest Cape coming soon enough damn it!). Last week the Mazda's petrol cap mysteriously went missing and I used the ancient BMW until I bought a replacement later on the same day. I leave the headlights on at Varsity and have to wait for Campus Security's assistance - except the guy drives past me and I have to wait 20 minutes longer in the rain before I am helped on my way. I buy the petrol cap and forget the BMW outside in the driveway.
The Stepdad arrives home to tell me that the BMW's doors and boot are standing open. The radio, speakers and amp have all been jacked after the driverside doorlock has been damaged during the break in. Since the car has been put up for sale that day (I motion to refer to "Fate" as "that miserable bastard" from here on out) as that miserable bastard would have it, I need to have the lock repaired and replace the radio and speakers.
This week I decided to put that all behind me. I wake up after an eventful farewell for Andy (where a number of incidents occurred among a number of people that have no reason to think favourably of me) to find a substance - which could be alcohol but seems suspiciously like urine - splashed all over the bonnet of the Mazda. No problem, the gardener took care of that - again at my expense.
I get very good mileage (what is that in metric? kilometerage, meterage [your abstract prefix here]-age) and my petrol tank indicator is slightly suspect (there is no reserve light; when the tank is full the needle reads past the full indicator; when the car is switched off, the needle reads past the empty indicator) so that miserable bastard decides that today I run out of fuel on my way to work. My lovely mother brings me some fuel and the car won't start. I say "let's give it a minute to settle". She says "I'll call the AA". It turns out that a coil (don't ask me) seems to be misbehaving and needs to be replaced. If I had to work after the flatbed truck tow-in I think some disciplinary action would have been warranted.
Next hot-air expulsion likely to cause a warm front can be expected upon me receiving marks for the first varsity assignment that I absolutely know will be under-appreciated...
Rant concluded.
At 00:19 Debaser mumbled incoherently.
5 Comments:
Life never promised you a rose garden. Them Rose coloured glasses ar a fake too.
There are times there are tears in my eyes... There are more times that I am proud of you. Love Soutriem
Gosh. Car troubles! I ehat them muchly.
No worries, at least you feel better post-rant.
ehat is teh sex?
such a smart-worded post with such random babble in the comments section. ;)
Hats of to you Matt!
p.s my 2 cents in the bucket : sometimes when I try to type "blogspot" , i type "bogspot" , meaning, toilet. Wonderful and useless.
I just got hit for a R3300 car service. My disdain for mechanics is rivalled only by my contempt for estate agents and insurance companies.
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