the battle cry of the self disenfranchised. i had someone post it on a for sale thread of mine recently when they were only about 75 miles away! its one of those things that really winds me up (and a few others i know on here too). in my eyes you either want it or you don't. distance isnt an issue when we're on a island so small youre never more than 70 miles from the sea (IIRC).
this is a story about me picking up a new car. made in the '30s. in a different country. where i don't speak the language. to use as a daily driver.
this was the most 'sensible' solution to a predicament i was left in by some stupid woman deciding that being impatient and driving into my truck rather than waiting for me to get out of the way was a great idea.
the aftermath look like this-
it don't look a whole lot, but it did both rear tyres, those wheels i custom made so had to be replaced as a pair as i couldnt get just one, it snapped a rear leaf clean in half, shunting the axle back into the fuel tank making that leak and ripping the brake lines out, stoved in the rear cross member and cracked the chassis twice, so damage was pretty considerable- £1800 in parts alone. given i was using this as my daily at the time, it left me with no working car.
after 2 months dying of boredom driving around a particularly curse word hire van, this interim payment arrived, to much jubilation-
id already decided i was going toblow it all invest it wisely by purchasing another motor vehicle, as id still be able to afford the parts to fix my original truck, i would just be spending the not inconsiderable labour charge on fresh transport. as such, id already paid a deposit on another truck in france based on a few ropey photos from an advert and a brief phone call with the ex-pat seller. but, the price was pretty cheap for what it was, so i figured it was worth the risk.
the timescales were pretty tight, the third partys insurance messed me around for weeks, then suddenly gave me the cheque and demanded the hire van back 10 days later. given the sent the cheque on a friday and it wasnt going to clear til the following friday, this isnt as generous as it seems. i ended up booking a ferry and driving down to meet mr. HARDCORE at his house thursday evening based on a cheque that didnt clear til friday......the day we were getting on a ferry to frogland. i dropped the missus, our dogs and the cat off at the inlaws in southend on the way, so that was 150 miles covered already.....
some cider, some talking plums about cars and some sleep later, we wake up to a cleared cheque and mantaphil knocking at the door.
its half 8 in the morning, we need to be on a ferry at half 11, dover is 2 hours away and the nearest barclays doesnt open til 9.30. so we decide to drive to dover, grab some brekkie and go to the bank there. i get comfortable (well as comfortable as a person with legs can actually be in the back of a frontera) with my view for most of the rest of the day-
we clock up another 100 miles driving from brighton to dover ferry port, most of them bemused by Sc3n3 kids with various small hatches on strangely colored wheels (well, the ones that hadnt lost all their wheels on the M20 anyways) and air all going to some european show. then i buy the brekkie on some granny cafe in the middle of dover and trot over to the bank whilst its cooking. after them sh1tting themselves at someone asking for 3 and a half grand in cash (despite me riniging up my bank and asking if i need to pre-book a withdrawal of that much and them insisting not), i leave with the cash, albeit half of it in tenners, just as breakfast is ready. that destroyed, we go get on a ferry.
after an hour and a half, we end up here-
all i can say is man, what a craphole. as first impressions of france go, its horrendous. thats right, id never been to france before. we head south, it slowly gets greener and more pleasant looking as we pick up the toll road heading down for the boarder of departmente de calais and the somme. a journey made SOOO much better by finding a comedy radio station that played alternating tracks of uncensored american hip hop and french speaking west african rap. a better soundtrack could not be had i don't think. the toll roads are awesome, mirror flat and nigh on empty. i was worried about how much they were going to be seeing as the locals appeared not to use them, it was mostly english cars. so i was more than happy to be charged a whole 3 and a half euros for our hour trip! a few wiggly bits through some villages aiming for a place called le boisle, complete with phils 'michael winner face' moment at some old french guy in a kangoo hooning round a corner towards us in the middle of the road, plus oogling ALL the french tat laying everywhere, and we were there.
this is a story about me picking up a new car. made in the '30s. in a different country. where i don't speak the language. to use as a daily driver.
this was the most 'sensible' solution to a predicament i was left in by some stupid woman deciding that being impatient and driving into my truck rather than waiting for me to get out of the way was a great idea.
the aftermath look like this-
it don't look a whole lot, but it did both rear tyres, those wheels i custom made so had to be replaced as a pair as i couldnt get just one, it snapped a rear leaf clean in half, shunting the axle back into the fuel tank making that leak and ripping the brake lines out, stoved in the rear cross member and cracked the chassis twice, so damage was pretty considerable- £1800 in parts alone. given i was using this as my daily at the time, it left me with no working car.
after 2 months dying of boredom driving around a particularly curse word hire van, this interim payment arrived, to much jubilation-
id already decided i was going to
the timescales were pretty tight, the third partys insurance messed me around for weeks, then suddenly gave me the cheque and demanded the hire van back 10 days later. given the sent the cheque on a friday and it wasnt going to clear til the following friday, this isnt as generous as it seems. i ended up booking a ferry and driving down to meet mr. HARDCORE at his house thursday evening based on a cheque that didnt clear til friday......the day we were getting on a ferry to frogland. i dropped the missus, our dogs and the cat off at the inlaws in southend on the way, so that was 150 miles covered already.....
some cider, some talking plums about cars and some sleep later, we wake up to a cleared cheque and mantaphil knocking at the door.
its half 8 in the morning, we need to be on a ferry at half 11, dover is 2 hours away and the nearest barclays doesnt open til 9.30. so we decide to drive to dover, grab some brekkie and go to the bank there. i get comfortable (well as comfortable as a person with legs can actually be in the back of a frontera) with my view for most of the rest of the day-
we clock up another 100 miles driving from brighton to dover ferry port, most of them bemused by Sc3n3 kids with various small hatches on strangely colored wheels (well, the ones that hadnt lost all their wheels on the M20 anyways) and air all going to some european show. then i buy the brekkie on some granny cafe in the middle of dover and trot over to the bank whilst its cooking. after them sh1tting themselves at someone asking for 3 and a half grand in cash (despite me riniging up my bank and asking if i need to pre-book a withdrawal of that much and them insisting not), i leave with the cash, albeit half of it in tenners, just as breakfast is ready. that destroyed, we go get on a ferry.
after an hour and a half, we end up here-
all i can say is man, what a craphole. as first impressions of france go, its horrendous. thats right, id never been to france before. we head south, it slowly gets greener and more pleasant looking as we pick up the toll road heading down for the boarder of departmente de calais and the somme. a journey made SOOO much better by finding a comedy radio station that played alternating tracks of uncensored american hip hop and french speaking west african rap. a better soundtrack could not be had i don't think. the toll roads are awesome, mirror flat and nigh on empty. i was worried about how much they were going to be seeing as the locals appeared not to use them, it was mostly english cars. so i was more than happy to be charged a whole 3 and a half euros for our hour trip! a few wiggly bits through some villages aiming for a place called le boisle, complete with phils 'michael winner face' moment at some old french guy in a kangoo hooning round a corner towards us in the middle of the road, plus oogling ALL the french tat laying everywhere, and we were there.
cool truck and nice story though, I do always feel if the car/part is 'right' then why not travel a bit further to get it? Its only a small extra cost in the grand scheme of things
