As you may have noticed, we have our first bit of vinyl on the car. Team Floppy Throtttle across the windscreen is looking good. As usual there's a bit of a story attached to it so we'll have a start at the start, meander for a bit, then come back on track and hopefully finish the bit I'm getting at.
Yesterday, I was out and about doing something probably not overly important, came home to find Royal mail had been, knocked on my door and buggered off again leaving me with a "please come pick up your stuff" card. Unfortunately, Havant postal service being what it is, they tend not to open much past pub opening so I'd have to wait until the following day (today) to collect it. I woke up this morning, dressed my boy, gave him breakfast, and drove down to pick up my parcel. Cost me 70p in parking but nevermind.
I've handed the uncheery bastard at the counter my chewed up card - told you I'd given him breakfast - and he's sort of glowered at me and in a sort of inhuman One ring to rule them all type of voice asked if I had a bank card. Silly bloody question. I got lots. So with my usual sarky "there you go" I lobbed it Bond style onto the counter. Ive given him the card they left me, I would have thought that would be enough but no, he wanted me to prove that I had a bank card. So I proved it. Jobsworth grumbling miserable tossbag. His mood lightened slightly when he advised me that my card was invalid and did I have another. With great indignity I've told him there's fuck all wrong with that card, it's in date, theres money in there and I know it works.None of his business but what made him think it was invallid. He politely told me to turn the card over. I havent signed the fucker!?!?!?!?!
I humbly showed him another card and off he went to get my parcel whistling cheerfully. He brought out a binbag type thing which turned out to be my tent and I left feeling utterly humiliated by myself. I am officially feeling a bit of a tit at this point and glad that I probably dont have to see the guy ever again. I drove back and my heart sank. There in amongst todays post was a "sorry we missed you card" from royal fucking mail!!!
I think I may have got you understanding by now that Im gonna be a little embarrassed to show my face in the sorting office so I had a glance at the time the card was left... Only 10 minutes earlier. I have a chance I think. A small chance of catching the postie. It's the normal guy as it's with the bank statements and junk mail. He's walking, I have a diesel Mondeo filled with fuel and nothing to stand in my way of never having to go back to that sorting office apart from not catching the postie. How I feel both excited and a little dirty. Im going to be stalking the postie. The chase, the find, the spoils of the hunt. Oh yes, I have to find him now. It took me less than 10 minutes to find him, and retrieve the package that he had failed to deliver. Such a short time, 10 minutes. I had done it. I had defied the order of the missed you card. I had collected from the man that had left the card. I was a hunter, a tracker, and a champion. I do not have to go back to Havant sorting office and asked grumpy for my parcel and give him a card.
I got back, put the boy in the front room, went to put some shoes in the porch and what do I discover... ANOTHER FUCKING SORRY WE MISSED YOU CARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SHIT YOU NOT. Another one. Whilst I was out being all crocodile dundee tracker guy, the van postie has turned up and I still need to go to the sodding sorting office!
In summary, I missed a parcel (my tent) yesterday. Made a tit of myself in the sorting office today. Whilst there, missed a delivery (the vinyl sunscreen), tracked down postie. Whilst doing that, I missed a delivery (fire extinguisher I believe). You cant make this up. So whilst I'm at the post office tomorrow, I dare say something else will turn up. Why dont they look at whats going where and send it all together by one bloke?
Anyway, I digress slightly. The windscreen Vinyl has turned up and I've wet the windscreen as instructed, peeled the graphic off the backing, wet that too, slid it on as instructed, slid a (ironically enough) bankcard round where it needed to be fitted to take creases out, and cut the excess off with my carpet fitting stanley. "smooth any air bubbles out slowly" it says. any????? it looks like an Aero bar. bubbles bloody everywhere. It has taken a fair few hours of squeezing little bubbles past other bubbles to the edge to get it looking good. I got a bit bored of this so asked my mate (and the wifes unofficial uncle) Gary Kemp if I could borrow his Jump pack to try and get some life into the car. He said fine so I popped up to collect it. No one was there, so I went for a coffee and returned. Picked it up, got it back, took the positive battery lead back onto the battery and the alarm woke up again.
After a few minutes the alarm seemed not to care that I was playing with it and it gave up. I win. Power pack attached, turned the key and....... it started fine. Absolutely fine. Left it idling for an hour, temp got to norm, nothing to worry about, no smoke, happy happy. Then the wife spoke. Those magical words which send your heart through your arse at speed. "why does it leak black stuff out the exhaust"? Crap. Theres no smoke, I took it up to 4,000 RPM without anytell tale smoke, and it feels like oil rather that soot and water, so Im hoping it's not pistons or gasket, but I'll find out soon enough when I send it off for MOT and general check up.
Earlier I phoned my old mate Martin O-C who not long ago moved to Newcastle ish. According to my satnav, he is roughly 750 miles round trip so once the car is road legal Im gonna pop up there for a cuppa and back to see if the car survives without problems. If it does that all right then I will have a little faith in it, but if it's gonna blow up, then I'd rather it did it in the UK and I have a few months left to rebuild.
Following the worrying black trickly moment, I turned off the engine and decided to put my electrical theory to the test and finished wiring the stereo in. Put the ignition on. Pressed power. Nothing. Then lights. and noise. Oh yes, it works. all four speakers seem to be balanced just only problem is a hissing noise instead of music. It wont pick up any radio but the CD plays fine and the Aux seems to work. Took a few minutes (remember Ive had a hard day to this point) before it dawned on me. Aerial. Not plugged in. problem identified and solved. that in place it all works. Left stereo on engine off for 20 mins. Turned key, started first time.
So far tickety boo.
I had a go at putting the tent up earlier in my front room cos it's dark outside. After over an hour it looked no different really to when I unpacked it, so I've given up - figure it out another day.
Just got to go face that smug tossbag at sorting center tomorrow. In the meantime, if these updates on the horrifying realities of prepping an old car for a rally are amusing you, please join the facebook group, sponsor the car or simply make a donation. Every little bit will make me slightly happier.
Piccy updates following...
Sexy sun shade
Thats an improvement on how I found it, honest.
The stereo said that the red was for a direct feed to the battery, Ford reckon that the yellow is a permanent power feed (battery). Stereo said yellow was ignition controlled, ford say thats red. Brown and black are generally earth and I had a few spares left over but it works :)
See. It works. Woo hoo.
As opposed to the tent which I believe has the wrong poles or something. I dont know to be fair but the guy that sold it said 10 minutes to get it up. This picture was taken after an hour.
Laters
Savage
No comments:
Post a Comment