Yesterday I took my car shoe shopping and, like any harmless 'I'll just get the one thing I need' retail-based expedition, by the end of the day I swear my under-sized, over-used Nine West wallet was emitting a faint smell of burnt plastic. The worst part was that I didn't have pretty things in pretty bags to show for the damage incurred by my bank balance. Instead, my car had new tyres and break pads, and Puckles (yes, she has a name) had been balanced, aligned and skimmed. Glamourous? No. Necessary? *sigh* Unfortunately so.
Hubby's been saying "We've got to get you new tyres" since Christmas and I've been saying "Yeah, yeah, I'll pop into that Tiger place or the um, Supa-something, when I get a chance" since February. While driving back from a meeting in Randburg yesterday Puckles started making a very unattractive grinding sound (think Cruella De Ville's nails on a blackboard when you've got a cactus juice hangover) whenever I had to hit the brakes. I knew it was really bad when the sound persisted even though I was driving so slowly I hardly needed to break at red lights and stop streets. So I pulled into the first Supa Quick I saw, grabbed the closest parking bay and yelled 'help!' at the first manly man with engine grease under his fingernails.
Thankfully, he was very kind, spoke in words I could understand and when the words caused me to frown in confusion he was happy to show me what the issues were –
Manly man: "You see, this is what a new brake pad looks like... you see the padding-type stuff on this new one?"
Me: "Yes..."
Manly man: "Well the ones on your car don't have any left. See?"
Me: *embarrassment* "Yes. So that's why it's screeching?"
Manly man: "Yeah, ma'am, you'd have been lucky to get another couple of days' driving out of your car until you totally buggered up the brake disc"
Me: "The what?"
Manly man: :"This big shiny silver piece that's much more expensive to replace."
Me: "Oh. I see. Best you replace the brake pads then..."
I will be 100% upfront, I am not very good at motor vehicle maintenance. I never get my car booked in for a service before it exceeds the mileage milestone thingee, I hate it when the petrol attendant tells me that I actually need to put oil in my car and I've been driving around without a working radio/CD player or electric window on the driver's side for months.
Yes, for months I have been driving around in silence telling myself that it's good to have a little holiday from Jeremy Mansfield. I just don't see the point in buying a new radio/CD player when I have a fully functioning iPod and as a plan B (to my already in place Plan B) a Blackberry media player that works fabulously through my hands-free kit. I have also been driving around having to physically open my door to grab parking lots tickets, press gate buzzers etc. since mid-March, because I can't wind down my window. Why? Well, apparently there's a little wire that's fizzled out and it's connected to the mechanism that makes the window go up and down at the push of a button. That little wire needs to be ordered from Italy and because of its mediterranean origins will cost me more than a three-course meal for six people at Luca's including fabulous 'soooo gonna regret the fourth glass tomorrow morning' Merlot.
I know I have to bite the bullet and give Fiat the go ahead to replace the radio/CD player and order the silly little wire but right now I'm for more likely to allocate that particular amount to chew toys and a Science Plan diet for my 4-month old pavement special. Don't judge me... just smile, nod and quietly applaud my honesty. Thanks.
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