As part of our football pre-season warm up, my two younger sons and I are going to Brighton for a friendly game tomorrow afternoon. Something of a one off I must say but this has come as the result of a £100 bet between the manager and Chris Eubanks' son?????
Anyway, after a lot of prevaricating, we three are travelling down in Brian and this will be his first 100 mile plus run out since the annoying missing/lumpy running issue I've had for a while. Being the tightwad that I am, I tried replacing many parts (many times!) without success until, after a conversation with (now local boy) Zorba, sorry, Naki, I changed the TPS that was full of oil and voila! Job's a good 'un! The thing is, on the trip to the Shell station, I just found myself turning into some weird crossbreed entity, sort of a Boyan/Naki kind of thing? I did the usual stuff on the forecourt, fuelled up, checked the tyres, water, pissers etc etc and came home. I put the one bag that we need on the back seat and then it happened!
I picked up my trolley jack and toolbox and put them in the boot!!!!! What the ****? I have covered over 110,000 miles in Brian during my ownership and I've never carried tools (let alone a bloody trolley jack!) in anticipation of breaking down???? I just stood there scratching the back of my neck thinking, what the hell are you doing? I then had a very colourful memory of myself shaking hands with the previous owner when I bought the car (Sept 2002) and him saying "it will never let you down as long as you look after it!" Within a few seconds the boot was empty again and normal service was resumed. I must make an appointment at the doc's to get my top twenty checked out but in the meantime, Brighton here we come!!