Saturday, December 01, 2007
Hell
Saturday was one of those days where I felt a sense of achievement, because I didn't have a nervous breakdown.
At about 12.30 I was driving along the Cornish, when some muppet went into the back of me. Now fortunately there wasn't a great deal of damage, it was really just a few scrapes and scratches, but you have to report everything to the police otherwise no one will touch your car with a bargepole...or even fix it, which I guess is more to the point.
So off we went to the Traffic Police. I didn't know the way, so I told the guy I'd just follow him. "Not too close, no accidents," said the jokester.
Don't you worry about me, mate. You just worry about your own driving.
We got to the Traffic Police, and this is where I found out he was an off-duty traffic policeman. Thank goodness I had been all sugary sweet...
After a generous amount of sitting around, I got the police report and could now get my car fixed. I then made a decision that really ruined my day: I headed off the Industrial Centre to find the Hyundai Garage.
The Industrial Centre is a huge maze of crumbling streets, potholes and sand. I think it might be quite similar to hell. It all looks like this:
...and there's miles and miles of it.
I drove around the place for 2 sodding hours, before ringing the garage and telling them to come and find me.
Bless them, they were there pretty quickly, but then they told me off for having missed my first 2 services (oops) and took my car away.
To be fair, they did then find me a taxi. Unfortunately it was one who didn't know where I was going and we got lost. The taxi driver was more intent on being my new bessie mate and getting my mobile number than he was in finding my compound.
I'm now wondering what the chances are of ever being reunited with my car again. The thought of 2 more hours lost in the sandpit of hell is bringing me out in a cold sweat. I'm wondering if the answer is to buy a new one...
At about 12.30 I was driving along the Cornish, when some muppet went into the back of me. Now fortunately there wasn't a great deal of damage, it was really just a few scrapes and scratches, but you have to report everything to the police otherwise no one will touch your car with a bargepole...or even fix it, which I guess is more to the point.
So off we went to the Traffic Police. I didn't know the way, so I told the guy I'd just follow him. "Not too close, no accidents," said the jokester.
Don't you worry about me, mate. You just worry about your own driving.
We got to the Traffic Police, and this is where I found out he was an off-duty traffic policeman. Thank goodness I had been all sugary sweet...
After a generous amount of sitting around, I got the police report and could now get my car fixed. I then made a decision that really ruined my day: I headed off the Industrial Centre to find the Hyundai Garage.
The Industrial Centre is a huge maze of crumbling streets, potholes and sand. I think it might be quite similar to hell. It all looks like this:
...and there's miles and miles of it.
I drove around the place for 2 sodding hours, before ringing the garage and telling them to come and find me.
Bless them, they were there pretty quickly, but then they told me off for having missed my first 2 services (oops) and took my car away.
To be fair, they did then find me a taxi. Unfortunately it was one who didn't know where I was going and we got lost. The taxi driver was more intent on being my new bessie mate and getting my mobile number than he was in finding my compound.
I'm now wondering what the chances are of ever being reunited with my car again. The thought of 2 more hours lost in the sandpit of hell is bringing me out in a cold sweat. I'm wondering if the answer is to buy a new one...
