Hello motoring enthusiasts, I’m Ronald Summers.
I’m in desperate need of some advice as I fear I may have got myself into quite a predicament.
Two years ago my other half Joan insisted we buy a second car as she hadn’t ever felt comfortable in my “death trap” and thought that owning her own car would encourage her to do more of the driving. She’s never felt at ease with me behind the wheel and has said on numerous occasions I made her so nervous that she wanted to ‘eat her own eyes’.
As such, she’s spent a long time driving me around with the opinion that “being your taxi is better than being dead”. I may not be the best driver in the world but I certainly don’t feel I am as bad as she likes to make out; I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve reminded her that the nice old couple on the bikes were nearly completely ok in the end.
Since we bought the car, a flashy little Fiesta, it has become Joan’s pride and joy and, although I’ve tried on a few occasions, she’s always found an excuse as to why I shouldn’t drive it. However, Joan’s not been very well recently and last week went off to stay at a friend’s house to recuperate; apparently my presence doesn’t really aid a speedy recovery.
Yesterday, remembering that she’d left her car behind, I decided it was my chance to take it out for a spin. After all in the eyes of the law I’m allowed to drive it, it’s only the Law of Our House that states I’m not.
I pootled round town and even the dual carriageway and other than hitting the kerb once or twice, everything seemed to be going well. The only irritation came when I tried turning up the volume of the radio and instead managed to change the station; I figured I would have a go at changing it back later when I was stopped.
On the way home I found myself desperately needing the toilet so popped into the nearby garage and asked to use their facilities. The dim-witted lady behind the counter told me they had only yesterday decided not to let members of the public use the toilets anymore.
I made it home, parked up on our drive and dashed inside heading straight for the loo. Once relieved I headed to the kitchen and I happened to glance out of the front window – I must have left the handle brake off and the car had rolled forward and hit the little wall that separates the drive and back garden.
I went straight out to inspect the damage and saw Mrs. Fardles from No. 23 standing in her front garden staring straight at me. It was obvious from the look on her face that she’d seen it happen. I started walking over but the silly old bag turned, went inside and closed her door. I just know that if I don’t do something quickly, she’ll make sure she tells Joan about it.
I’ve since moved the car and found the front of it rather squashed in and scraped but luckily the wall is still up, albeit with some paint marks on it. I started the engine and unless my ears are playing tricks again, something doesn’t sound quite right. Joan isn’t back for another five days and I have formulated the following plan:
- Use a hammer to push the dented bit back out
- Fix whatever it is that is making the engine sound strange
- Set the radio back to Radio 2
- Get some touch up paint and cover the scrape marks.
- Remove the marks from the wall.
- Convince Mrs. Fardles not to tell Joan
Unfortunately looking at my plan makes me feel a little queasy and I feel I am not even sure where to start. I would appreciate any help and advice anyone can offer me, namely:
- What sort of hammer will be the best to successfully push the dent back out?
- Will it be best to do one big hit with the hammer or several smaller ones?
- How would I go about fixing what is making the strange noise?
- How do I set the radio back to Joan’s favourite station?
- Where do I purchase ‘touch up paint’?
- Can you buy ‘brick’ coloured paint?
- Has anyone any advice as to how I can convince Joan’s friend Mrs. Fardles to not tell Joan?
Any help would be greatly appreciated,
Yours worriedly,
Ronald Summers |
