So it was the bus, tonight, to take us to the McGarva household for a brilliant sunday dinner from Ka's mum where many questions were raised watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang such as should the Baroness not have died after her fall to the water from the height she was at after her dress was shot by the Baron? Or where did the Baron learn to shoot like that? Personally I reckon it was from his time under the persona of Goldfinger, but that's a different story. Also, how annoying were the kids in that film? No wonder they were caged up by that Child Catcher (Bet you that's what Russell Brand will look like in 40 years time). Relying on public transport again is a real pain though. We went out to get our bus home and the bus driver ignored us and our stop. Refusing to be ignored Ka and myself ran after him though and after he got a lucky red light we got him at the next stop. Arguing with bus drivers is my favourite past time (not really - but they make me do it) but tonight I just could not be bothered, flicking my ticket in his general direction and taking my seat. Bus drivers are generally very poor, certainly in this Glasgow area. They are always rude, grumpy, stupid (half of them don't know the areas they drive through) and give the impression they have a major gripe with the world and anyone that wishes to use their smelly, slow, creaking vehicle. You try to be polite to them, they growl back. You ask a question such as how much to... they growl back. You accuse them of missing the stop you'd just been standing at and the swear and shout at you. This has given me the impression that generally bus drivers are mostly unpleasant people but, unfortunately for me, they are my taxi service for, at least, the next few days. Unless I phone an actual taxi, but they're just silly money. Some of the folk in work may help me out (fingers crossed) - I may have to pull in a few favours! Please Clio, don't die! If only Caractacus Potts were here.
Sunday 5 October 2008
A matter of timing
Driving along the East Kilbride expressway yesterday at 65 miles an hour the wee clio started making a strange noise and then it's engine suddenly stopped working. Lights blinked up infront of me and the speed began to fall. I was certain this wasn't right. Fortunately we were just approaching the High Blantyre turn off so I managed to coast the car off the busy A725 all the way down the hill, straight through the T-junction and into the layby opposite. Being unused to these kind of engine malfunctions in my car but having seen plenty of them in acquaintance's old cars I had hald a dreaded suspicion of what had occured. Sure enough, when the toe truck turned up, the mechanic immediately identified the problem. A bust timing belt. Possibly the worst thing to go in an engine - so it looks like it's the bus for me this week and a possible fond farewell to the wee clio. You never know there may be some kind of miracle and the damage may not be that bad but timing belt malfunctions are not known for their kindness on the wallet and it may spell the end for the eleven year old clio. Will hopefully find out in the next few days...
So it was the bus, tonight, to take us to the McGarva household for a brilliant sunday dinner from Ka's mum where many questions were raised watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang such as should the Baroness not have died after her fall to the water from the height she was at after her dress was shot by the Baron? Or where did the Baron learn to shoot like that? Personally I reckon it was from his time under the persona of Goldfinger, but that's a different story. Also, how annoying were the kids in that film? No wonder they were caged up by that Child Catcher (Bet you that's what Russell Brand will look like in 40 years time). Relying on public transport again is a real pain though. We went out to get our bus home and the bus driver ignored us and our stop. Refusing to be ignored Ka and myself ran after him though and after he got a lucky red light we got him at the next stop. Arguing with bus drivers is my favourite past time (not really - but they make me do it) but tonight I just could not be bothered, flicking my ticket in his general direction and taking my seat. Bus drivers are generally very poor, certainly in this Glasgow area. They are always rude, grumpy, stupid (half of them don't know the areas they drive through) and give the impression they have a major gripe with the world and anyone that wishes to use their smelly, slow, creaking vehicle. You try to be polite to them, they growl back. You ask a question such as how much to... they growl back. You accuse them of missing the stop you'd just been standing at and the swear and shout at you. This has given me the impression that generally bus drivers are mostly unpleasant people but, unfortunately for me, they are my taxi service for, at least, the next few days. Unless I phone an actual taxi, but they're just silly money. Some of the folk in work may help me out (fingers crossed) - I may have to pull in a few favours! Please Clio, don't die! If only Caractacus Potts were here.
So it was the bus, tonight, to take us to the McGarva household for a brilliant sunday dinner from Ka's mum where many questions were raised watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang such as should the Baroness not have died after her fall to the water from the height she was at after her dress was shot by the Baron? Or where did the Baron learn to shoot like that? Personally I reckon it was from his time under the persona of Goldfinger, but that's a different story. Also, how annoying were the kids in that film? No wonder they were caged up by that Child Catcher (Bet you that's what Russell Brand will look like in 40 years time). Relying on public transport again is a real pain though. We went out to get our bus home and the bus driver ignored us and our stop. Refusing to be ignored Ka and myself ran after him though and after he got a lucky red light we got him at the next stop. Arguing with bus drivers is my favourite past time (not really - but they make me do it) but tonight I just could not be bothered, flicking my ticket in his general direction and taking my seat. Bus drivers are generally very poor, certainly in this Glasgow area. They are always rude, grumpy, stupid (half of them don't know the areas they drive through) and give the impression they have a major gripe with the world and anyone that wishes to use their smelly, slow, creaking vehicle. You try to be polite to them, they growl back. You ask a question such as how much to... they growl back. You accuse them of missing the stop you'd just been standing at and the swear and shout at you. This has given me the impression that generally bus drivers are mostly unpleasant people but, unfortunately for me, they are my taxi service for, at least, the next few days. Unless I phone an actual taxi, but they're just silly money. Some of the folk in work may help me out (fingers crossed) - I may have to pull in a few favours! Please Clio, don't die! If only Caractacus Potts were here.
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1 comment:
I'm rather impressed that you managed to make a broken-down Clio sound interesting. Can't agree more re bus drivers, the ones in the south side are working for satan I think.
Very nice blog :)
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