Monday, 27 September 2010
Clapped-out on a hard lesson
The clapped-out Corsa seems to be having a nervous breakdown - that or a midlife crises. Either way the experience is as uncomfortable for me as it is for itself.Only last Wednesday the wagon engulfed itself in smoke at the beginning of a dual carriageway, leaving me and two dogs on the horns of a dilemma. Should I save myself from what might have been the start of an inferno - leaving the mutts to their fate? Or should I spend the last seconds before conflagration, attaching them to leads -( assuming I could find same).I'm not proud of the fact that I saved myself first. Needless to say this was not the end of the story. In due course, the smoke cleared. I retrieved my mobile and discovered that I had just run out of credit. This was odd since a couple of days previously I had topped up and should have had plenty of juice left in the Vodaphone well. But no - some days earlier I had attempted to ring a friend and got his messaging service. I left him a trailer of the news I had and listened as the phone imparted all sorts of strange groans and such. Suddenly I was through to my mate who informed me he was in Paris. What I should have done was close the connection, immediately. What I actually did was tell him an edited version of my news - thus wiping out my credit status with the Vodaphone bank. Next time I tried to make a call, I was in the doghouse. They wouldn't let me talk to ANYONE. Not even other 087 customers. So there I was on the hard shoulder , the smoke clearing and two dogs sitting in the back seat looking deeply aggrieved. Happily, I was saved by a charming young man with and iPhone. Imagine. Not only that but his car was a million miles away from clapped-out corsas I have known. Its a funny thing about disasters. Sometimes they come disguised as learning experiences. That was the case here. For after much nerve wracking and some extraordinary good luck they ended up teaching me much about life ( with a capital L). On this occasion I discovered that all the drama was down to having too much oil in the engine. In a racketty life as an intuitive unpredictable driver I had never heard of this one. And neither had the other woman who actually poured the extra two litres into the engine.You live and learn, I suppose, though mind you, the dogs are not all that mustard keen to get back into the wagon.