The 'Getting My Car Serviced' Adventure
The car is well overdue for a service. It was actually due for it's one year service when we bought it back in March but, because I don't have an MOT deadline to work to, I have only just got around to doing something about it. The garage I go to is on the other side of town - a town with a nasty traffic problem in rush hour, which is mostly due to a limited number of roads (i.e. one) that cross the river in town. I thought I'd been clever and left home at 7.30am but very soon I found myself in the middle of a queue of cars that were going nowhere. A swift 3-point turn and I was off on the only alternative route that didn't involve going several miles out of my way.
The alternative route took me via the pretty village of East Farleigh (incidently, there's a good cache nearby *grin*). Trouble is, there is a railway level crossing there that still has manually operated barriers and the railway chappies always close the gates in plenty (and I mean plenty) of time for the train. The level crossing also has a station right next to it, so if the train is approaching from the station side the cars have to wait even longer for the train to stop at the station first. Today, of course, I got to the crossing just as the gates were being closed. They were just playing with us today, however, as after a minute or two the gates were opened again without a train having gone through. I then had to wait for the queue of traffic that had built up over the narrow bridge beyond the crossing to pass before I could resume my journey.
I made it to the garage half and hour later than I expected, and in one piece, despite the best efforts of a lorry driver who decided to overtake a tractor on a bend. The lady from the service reception led me out to the loan car, clip-clopping along in her red stilletos with evil-looking pointy fronts that Lotte Lenya would have been proud of. I followed, taking half the number of steps that she did in my flat shoes.
I was expecting the loan car to be a Saxo, or maybe a C2, instead it was a thing called a CityRover. I turned the key; it wouldn't start. I tried a couple of times but it wouldn't even try to turn over, it just beeped at me. I went back and got the savagely-shod reception woman; the car started first go which made me feel like a right idiot. At first the car wouldn't move off, but I realised the clutch bite-point was about a foot higher than that of my Saxo, so off I went. This car is so different to my Saxo - the seat is much higher and I felt like I was driving a coach, the brakes are more sensitive (the first dab of the brakes and I was nearly through the windscreen) and the handbrake is back by my hips instead of by my thigh. They never give you more than a teaspoon of petrol in these loan cars and filling up caused a problem - the fuel cap is operated from inside the car and it took me a few embarrassing minutes at the petrol station to work out how to get it open. Thankfully I was getting used to the car by the time I got home.
All this and it was still only 9am! And I still have to collect my car and pay up. I also had to go to the dentist today - no problems, but I did have to endure the torture device that cleans plaque off your teeth and pay 35 squids for the privilege.
The car is well overdue for a service. It was actually due for it's one year service when we bought it back in March but, because I don't have an MOT deadline to work to, I have only just got around to doing something about it. The garage I go to is on the other side of town - a town with a nasty traffic problem in rush hour, which is mostly due to a limited number of roads (i.e. one) that cross the river in town. I thought I'd been clever and left home at 7.30am but very soon I found myself in the middle of a queue of cars that were going nowhere. A swift 3-point turn and I was off on the only alternative route that didn't involve going several miles out of my way.
The alternative route took me via the pretty village of East Farleigh (incidently, there's a good cache nearby *grin*). Trouble is, there is a railway level crossing there that still has manually operated barriers and the railway chappies always close the gates in plenty (and I mean plenty) of time for the train. The level crossing also has a station right next to it, so if the train is approaching from the station side the cars have to wait even longer for the train to stop at the station first. Today, of course, I got to the crossing just as the gates were being closed. They were just playing with us today, however, as after a minute or two the gates were opened again without a train having gone through. I then had to wait for the queue of traffic that had built up over the narrow bridge beyond the crossing to pass before I could resume my journey.
I made it to the garage half and hour later than I expected, and in one piece, despite the best efforts of a lorry driver who decided to overtake a tractor on a bend. The lady from the service reception led me out to the loan car, clip-clopping along in her red stilletos with evil-looking pointy fronts that Lotte Lenya would have been proud of. I followed, taking half the number of steps that she did in my flat shoes.
I was expecting the loan car to be a Saxo, or maybe a C2, instead it was a thing called a CityRover. I turned the key; it wouldn't start. I tried a couple of times but it wouldn't even try to turn over, it just beeped at me. I went back and got the savagely-shod reception woman; the car started first go which made me feel like a right idiot. At first the car wouldn't move off, but I realised the clutch bite-point was about a foot higher than that of my Saxo, so off I went. This car is so different to my Saxo - the seat is much higher and I felt like I was driving a coach, the brakes are more sensitive (the first dab of the brakes and I was nearly through the windscreen) and the handbrake is back by my hips instead of by my thigh. They never give you more than a teaspoon of petrol in these loan cars and filling up caused a problem - the fuel cap is operated from inside the car and it took me a few embarrassing minutes at the petrol station to work out how to get it open. Thankfully I was getting used to the car by the time I got home.
All this and it was still only 9am! And I still have to collect my car and pay up. I also had to go to the dentist today - no problems, but I did have to endure the torture device that cleans plaque off your teeth and pay 35 squids for the privilege.
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