Benfleet A1
Hector Of The House
We all get them, we all have those days when you wish you could turn back the clock and stay in bed but where would be the fun in that. I knew it was coming because I had prior warning that there was no cover for sunday night and I had already been asked to help out. Not a major problem, I thought, sundays are normally quite so I would have plenty of time to chill out and get some rest which would cushion the blow if i got called out at stupid o'clock.
It started nice and early with a no insurance on the A13 at 8 o'clock which wouldn't normally be a problem except the police had decided to tug their victim in lane one with no hard shoulder or layby. Road users take no notice of orange lights so I got plenty of goodwill messagers while trying to load in a moving lane and catching delightful either the start or tail end of coments like waaaaannn or kaaaar. One even mistook me for someone else, my name isn't Rick.
Once that one was tucked away back at base I was lumbered with mis-firing Ford Focus down in sunny Leigh on Sea. It was in the tiniest road on the planet and took three shunts just to get the truck outside the house. Then, as is always the case, a dirty great Range Rover decided to come down the road and park outside the one house that would block the entire road. But, of course, he owned a Range Rover so he could park where he wanted and bollocks to any other road user. I run it round the block and cleaned the plugs but to no avail, said Focus was still coughing and farting so required a trip to a prefered garage. Solid tip here for all you car owners out there, book the poxy thing in first and not on a sunday. Even mechanics need a day off and the day of choice is, wait for it, SUNDAY!!
Range Rover man refused to move (****) so Recovery Man had to reverse out of tight road and head off to the next one, a sodding Range Rover. This idiot had been ragging the snot out of his motor on a weekend off road course near Liverpool.Tip number two. Off roading requires four decent All Terran tyres and at least a 2000kg winch fitted to the front. It's also a blinding idea to take the running boards off because when you are submered in 5ft of ditch water with a 150 degree exit route the one thing that's going to give is, take a wild guess, the running boards. The one saving grace was he had picked a garage that was open on sundays so muggings here loaded her up and took her away.
Coffee was seriously required after dropping off this one but no, an Astra required assistance in Corringham which should have been rolled into the nearest canal for the good of mankind but needed taking to Grays to be beaten to death in a back street garage. Grouty gritted his teeth and counted to ten when arriving at destination, he was met by Mr Seen it, Done it, Got the Tee Shirt. Grouty meets these types on a regular basis which is one reason why he left his previous employ. Club work seems to suck these clowns into the fold and dump then directly at my feet. Just because they once managed to change a wheel or push a HT Lead Plug back into place gives them the God given right to tell, no, order the recovery driver about like they are head of Police TIU (Dick of the Yard) Now you don't really like to offend but sometimes a stark 'Get the **** away from my truck and keep your ****ing hands to yourself' may upset but will stop possible serious injury from would be know it all, for want of a better word, ********. Recovery trucks are dangerous things and I get the serious hump with idiots who don't know the workings and the dangers but insist on 'helping out' One Astra parked up and one one sulking know it all later we are on our way to a knackered Renault Espace.
I just love jobs like this. 'I drove it for thirty odd miles and lost all the water and the steering got heavy' Where can you say 'You should have stopped, idiot, and by the way, you have cooked the engine, done the drive belt and shagged the water pump, eh, fancy a new car? I'm off to Brighton with said dead Espace and one chatty dad and two stroppy fourteen year olds. End result is a grotty truck with drink bottles and sweet wrapers. Drop off with clenched bum, just in case it is Brighton after all and chuck the crap out that the teens had slung around the truck.
I got back and knew I would be called out so got comfy under the stairs in my sleeping bag. i forgot that the local fruit and veg supplier was loading up for mondays delivery so little sleep was had. Bang on time I was called out at midnight to collect another no insurance. Got back and got my head down.
Well I was up now at seven and got off after coffee and fags I tipped out and went home. The wife dumped off the daughter at school and we started our time off together. Time off together, nice if it was true but it wasn't. What it was, was getting some brekkie then grabbing some new tryes for my Discovery. So I get home and jake the wheels up and get the axel stands under. Whip off to the tyre yard and get the tyres swoped over come homde and, find the poxy axel stands have dropped.
Two ******* ****ing hours later I managed to get the entire motor off the ground and get the wheels back on. (all hail my neighbour who had a bottle jack) which I might add he is an occasional shrimper who needs to get drunk more often and I will be less than impressed if you lot don't help out with doing that dirty deed.
So by 6 o'clock I was covered with mud, **** wet through and not a happy bunny. The plus side is I have nice new tyres on the rear, the down side is I am knackered, suffering pain in placies i didn't know you could hurt and out of Guinness and Newcastle Brown.
Oh and I also have a flat battery. Any ideas where I canbuy a horse and cart?
It started nice and early with a no insurance on the A13 at 8 o'clock which wouldn't normally be a problem except the police had decided to tug their victim in lane one with no hard shoulder or layby. Road users take no notice of orange lights so I got plenty of goodwill messagers while trying to load in a moving lane and catching delightful either the start or tail end of coments like waaaaannn or kaaaar. One even mistook me for someone else, my name isn't Rick.
Once that one was tucked away back at base I was lumbered with mis-firing Ford Focus down in sunny Leigh on Sea. It was in the tiniest road on the planet and took three shunts just to get the truck outside the house. Then, as is always the case, a dirty great Range Rover decided to come down the road and park outside the one house that would block the entire road. But, of course, he owned a Range Rover so he could park where he wanted and bollocks to any other road user. I run it round the block and cleaned the plugs but to no avail, said Focus was still coughing and farting so required a trip to a prefered garage. Solid tip here for all you car owners out there, book the poxy thing in first and not on a sunday. Even mechanics need a day off and the day of choice is, wait for it, SUNDAY!!
Range Rover man refused to move (****) so Recovery Man had to reverse out of tight road and head off to the next one, a sodding Range Rover. This idiot had been ragging the snot out of his motor on a weekend off road course near Liverpool.Tip number two. Off roading requires four decent All Terran tyres and at least a 2000kg winch fitted to the front. It's also a blinding idea to take the running boards off because when you are submered in 5ft of ditch water with a 150 degree exit route the one thing that's going to give is, take a wild guess, the running boards. The one saving grace was he had picked a garage that was open on sundays so muggings here loaded her up and took her away.
Coffee was seriously required after dropping off this one but no, an Astra required assistance in Corringham which should have been rolled into the nearest canal for the good of mankind but needed taking to Grays to be beaten to death in a back street garage. Grouty gritted his teeth and counted to ten when arriving at destination, he was met by Mr Seen it, Done it, Got the Tee Shirt. Grouty meets these types on a regular basis which is one reason why he left his previous employ. Club work seems to suck these clowns into the fold and dump then directly at my feet. Just because they once managed to change a wheel or push a HT Lead Plug back into place gives them the God given right to tell, no, order the recovery driver about like they are head of Police TIU (Dick of the Yard) Now you don't really like to offend but sometimes a stark 'Get the **** away from my truck and keep your ****ing hands to yourself' may upset but will stop possible serious injury from would be know it all, for want of a better word, ********. Recovery trucks are dangerous things and I get the serious hump with idiots who don't know the workings and the dangers but insist on 'helping out' One Astra parked up and one one sulking know it all later we are on our way to a knackered Renault Espace.
I just love jobs like this. 'I drove it for thirty odd miles and lost all the water and the steering got heavy' Where can you say 'You should have stopped, idiot, and by the way, you have cooked the engine, done the drive belt and shagged the water pump, eh, fancy a new car? I'm off to Brighton with said dead Espace and one chatty dad and two stroppy fourteen year olds. End result is a grotty truck with drink bottles and sweet wrapers. Drop off with clenched bum, just in case it is Brighton after all and chuck the crap out that the teens had slung around the truck.
I got back and knew I would be called out so got comfy under the stairs in my sleeping bag. i forgot that the local fruit and veg supplier was loading up for mondays delivery so little sleep was had. Bang on time I was called out at midnight to collect another no insurance. Got back and got my head down.
Well I was up now at seven and got off after coffee and fags I tipped out and went home. The wife dumped off the daughter at school and we started our time off together. Time off together, nice if it was true but it wasn't. What it was, was getting some brekkie then grabbing some new tryes for my Discovery. So I get home and jake the wheels up and get the axel stands under. Whip off to the tyre yard and get the tyres swoped over come homde and, find the poxy axel stands have dropped.
Two ******* ****ing hours later I managed to get the entire motor off the ground and get the wheels back on. (all hail my neighbour who had a bottle jack) which I might add he is an occasional shrimper who needs to get drunk more often and I will be less than impressed if you lot don't help out with doing that dirty deed.
So by 6 o'clock I was covered with mud, **** wet through and not a happy bunny. The plus side is I have nice new tyres on the rear, the down side is I am knackered, suffering pain in placies i didn't know you could hurt and out of Guinness and Newcastle Brown.
Oh and I also have a flat battery. Any ideas where I canbuy a horse and cart?
