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Confessions Corner? Forgive me Father for I can haz sins.


Des

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Range Rover with a 2.4, needs oil change. Right, I'll 'ave a go; how hard can it be? They're all the same...

Drove it in, ready to check all the lights and rack it up, but before I could do any of that I reached down to pop the hood and...no lever. Blast, they must 'ave hidden it like Volvo used to, so I looked under the dashboard...along the kick panel...in the catch-all...under the seat...to find the square root of fuck-all.

After 20 minutes of this, I figured I'd better do something, as I really didn't want my boss out there offering to help me get the hood open...Let's see, where do we keep that blowtorch...

To the glove box I went, reasoning that if they went to all this trouble to hide the damn thing (sodding Ford Transit with its Chubb-key-on-the-grille setup also comes to mind) then they bloody well must have said something about it in the manual.

 

And they bloody well did, too:

HOOD LATCH...(Making it up as I go along from memory): To open the hood, first locate the hood latch ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE... :whacky055:

I didn't have time to read the rest. :oops:

 

WE WILL NOW RESUME NORMAL SERVICE...only... :huh:...Kinell. It's a 2.4. Which means I need a special one-off oil filter. Which the shop doesn't have. And can certainly order, but definitely won't get. "Fine, just put the old one back on," said my boss.

"Well, it was on there kinda tight and... :angry008: ...do you think they'll notice I gave it the black knight treatment with a screwdriver?"

(Boss shakes head, drops same into hands)

 

I guess they never retool any more than they have to, do they?

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About 8 years ago I was working as a Salesman at a Vauxhall dealer. During a shuffle of the used car display I backed an Astra Automatic up until the rear wheel touched the curb that ran along the length of the forecourt backrow. I was distracted by a colleague, jumped out leaving the engine running and, after a 30 second conflab, returned to the car and gave the throttle a momentary blip... Unfortunately I'd inadvertently left the autobox in reverse, and it was only the curbstone that had kept the Astra stationary. The quick burst of power sent the back of the car hurtling over the curb and into a tree.

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Dived in my old Commer years ago for a 50 mile each way drive to Poole , It had a fault where the keys could be removed from the ignition but it still kept running , handy for sticking crap in the back when youve fired it up and forgot to unlock the back , anyway i drove off quite happily and got to Dorchester where i thought it best to get some motion lotion , pull in went to turn it off only to find no keys which were ---- on the kitchen table .

The tale continued thus , i managed to stall the thing at the petrol station as filling up with the engine still running is a no no. to start it i shorted out the solenoid terminals with the wheel brace , got to Poole and stalled it again , this time i removed the + lead off the coil so as no to melt the thing , firing back up was done with the wheel brace again after sticking the wire back on and i got home fine .

We had and still have Yale lock doors at home that just pull shut .

Il give you one guess and one guess only where the bloody house key was  :-(

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I "repaired" (prior to selling) the door and sill on a Cherry Europe using purloined wide Micropore, Scotchcast and black underseal.

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A few years ago I accompanied the guy I worked for on a mission to buy some cars from a classic auction.

 

Came back with the ex 5th gear giveaway 911 Carrera 3.2 and a very shiny Jensen Interceptor III convertible.

 

The 911 had a sticky front caliper which grabbed occasionally, the Jensen had a knackered carb and didn't run well when warm. It did about 6 mpg when being thrashed senseless in order to keep it going. It broke down Six times in 60 miles and drank a fortunes worth of juice.

 

Then it flattened it's battery in a petrol station near Warrington. As an Interceptor weighs in at about 2 tons, has a big battery but not a very big starter, and is automatic, we ended up jump starting it, at the pump, from the 911 which has its battery buried in the luggage compartment and we had jump leads that would struggle to jump start my watch.

 

Ok. Leads connected. Porsche engine at 2000 rpm is time to crank the hot 7.2 V8.

 

At this point a petrol tanker decided to arrive, didn't look over at us and started doing his refilling thing. This wasn't ideal. We cranked over the Jensen and it did exactly what a hot V8 with issues likes to do - spat back through the carb and set the filter on fire. Yeah. Thanks for that. I pulled the fuel pump fuse while it was still being cranked and it started - then ran for 10 seconds before emptying is huge float bowl, but it sucked the fire out and averted removing Warrington from the map. Popped the fuse back in, it started so we got out of there as quickly as possible. It made it home and then shredded its gearbox.

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Many years ago, when I and the West Mercia Constabulary were related as employer and employee, the traffic patrol cars had pyramid-like structures on the roof containing the blue revolving beacon and a stop sign (instead of light bars that seem to be popular today).  At the end of each shift, the car would be refuelled and put through a manually operated car-wash.  It was manually operated for a reason, the reason being that the horizontal roller - by the use of a control button on the apparatus - needed to be lifted over the pyramid on its travel to the rear of the vehicle and its return.  A minor misjudgement on my part led to a few battered pieces of blue and red plastic finding their way into a dustbin and the patrol car being out of service for a day or two. 

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Many years ago, when I and the West Mercia Constabulary were related as employer and employee, 

 

Many years ago, when I and the West Mercia Constabulary were related as employer and employee I was a very junior plod driving a Mini Clubman panda car, I failed to notice a lift-up barrier across the track to the refuse tip and scraped the roof, I think the blue light stopped the car. Much more damage was done when I got out and it came up on the springs. 

 

Not my first cock-up so I wasn't surprised soon afterwards when I was given a letter: "this is your resignation. Please sign"

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I'd occasionally go out to the fire station my dad worked at to use the pressure washer they had to clean my cortina when he was on shift. I put jacket in the boot to keep it dry.

Unfortunately the keys were also in it so after a few futile minutes trying to get in I admit defeat and trudge off to get what will be a spectacularly grumpy cort senior just as the alarm goes off and they fuck off in the fire engines sirens blazing leaving me standing there in an empty yard.

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Many years ago I'd finished some welding on my Nova, lowered it off the jack and put my tools away. Later that day when I struggled to get it to reverse, I thought the brakes were sticking again so gave it some beans. Imagine my surprise when an axle stand burst through the passenger footwell like a rusty red seedling.

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Shorted a brand new battery out by bridging it at both ends with the handle of a ratchet spanner. Having not disconnected the terminals in the first place, I decided to knock the socket handle away by grabbing it. Massive burn across the palm of my hand. 
 

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Last oil change I forgot to remove the bucket containing 5 litres of castrols finest before driving the car off the ramps. Que lots of swearing whilst running around like an idiot trying to find something to stem the oil slick on the drive. I was still swearing 20 minutes later whilst using washing powder and buckets of hot water trying to swill it away!

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After doing that once or twice i now take the cautionary measures of sprinkling cat litter around the area of the bowl and leave the bag on standby! Wife never let me live it down. Along with the time i wondered why the Mondeo took over 7 litres of oil and still not showing on dipstick. Someone forgot to put sump plug in.

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I spent about 5 years carefully restoring my Anglia doing everything properly and to to the best of my abilities. Mojo wore off near the end of the project and I didn't have the time or motivation to finish off all the little jobs, so I put it in at a well known hotrod and kustom shop to finally get it back on the road.

I got the call and went down there, they threw me the keys and I went out for a test drive. Felt great! On the way back in I booted it and span 90 degrees - took my foot straight off the throttle - but it dug in and fired me through the metal fence and into the yard of the shop next door. Amazingly, there was no damage to the car and the metal fence panel had just popped out, so we kicked it back into shape and jammed it back in. Lucky they didn't have a guard dog either, otherwise I'd have got savaged on the way out too.

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Only vaguely VW related, but it's not a cock on a door.

 

Many years ago at a VW show, the entertainment was provided by that bloke from the popular beat combo Dodgy. If its good enough etc...

Now, by the time chap came on, and I'd had a drop of sherry and was merrily heckling, something along the lines of, 'its not fucking good enough you fucking one hit wonder.'

Chap next to me turns and says, 'I say old chap, mind keeping the language down a tad only Im here with my young daughter.'

You can imagine, I was mortified,

'Sorry,' says I, 'how old is your daughter?'

'Fifteen'

'Fucking fifteen?, I bet she knows more fucking words than you do mate'

At which point my fellow partner in this whole sordid business chikes in,

'Ere Dave, that blokes calling you a c@nt'

Turns to chap and launches into,

'Who you fucking calling c@nt? C@nt'

 

I have not returned to that particular show

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At a job interview the be-suited HR mongs went through all the pointless bits of paper they had made me produce.  If only they could read then the "full, clean, UK driving licence" they insisted on was passed on my BSA Bantam rather then the humungus 6x6 I had to drive in some foreign place when they employed me.

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A friend asks me to check the oil level in his Punto. There's nothing showing on the dipstick, so I pour a 5 litre can into the oil filler.

Cue one embarrassed drive to a local garage with plumes of white smoke out of the exhaust, the garage drained 7 litres...and it survived!

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I tried to replace the indicator bulb in the meriva yesterday. I cannot get the fucking bulb holder to twist so it looks like a headlight out job.

 

I may have suggested to swmbo to pop to halfords and pay £3 for them to attempt it... I feel dirty now

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