Mon, 02 Aug 2010 9:31a.m.
By Erin Gallagher
I have never had much luck with cars. There was the time (read, times) my car would just stop and refuse to start again when I was waiting at an intersection.
Typically, a huge line of traffic would back up behind me, most often with a school bus at the rear, the kids on board leering at me and pulling the fingers when they slowly inched around me.
There was the time I poured three litres of oil into the engine, thinking the big oil tub had a direct correlation to the oil stick, so when the tub was full the stick would say “full”. Turns out that isn’t the case, and the following day my car was mistaken for a steam train.
Then there was the time I forgot to put the oil cap back on after putting a much more appropriate amount of oil in the engine, and lifted the bonnet one day to find oil all over the top of my engine and very little left where it was supposed to be.
What about the time a lovely but obviously slightly blind British tourist drove through a red light and into me while I had the green arrow? Or the time I finished my shift at the Wellsford Long John Silver, only to find that some local homie had smashed my window and attempted to nick off with my car. The only reason they’d been unsuccessful was because their screwdriver had snapped off in the ignition.
Then there was the time I ran over a calf, its poor lifeless body rolling and flailing down the road behind me. Not my fault. Oh, and the time I almost ran into a pitch black cow that was asleep, standing up, on the centre line in the middle of the pitch black night. When I was on my restricted license. Also not my fault.
Every girl, no matter how intelligent she is, tends to have something she’s completely and utterly blonde about. My blonde thing is definitely everything to do with cars. When it comes to anything car-related I attract ridiculous situations, most of which are Not My Fault, and it just doesn’t occur to me to think about warrants, registrations, tyre pressures and all that jazz.
Car Number One: super awesome white 1989 Mazda Familia. She was my baby. I can’t remember her name, but she died after I wrote her off on Mother’s Day 2008. I was driving up to Mum and Dad’s when I came around a corner to find a sleek black Holden had crashed into some idiot who had been slowly pulling out of a driveway on a blind corner.
Being on an open road and, well, a blind corner, I careered at about 70 kilometres an hour into the back of the Holden. I should mention now that my worst fear in the whole wide world is dying a horrible death after crashing my car and being trapped inside, flames engulfing me and my helpless screams.
When I realised my door was jammed shut and I couldn’t get out, I panicked. Fortunately my window was wide open so I scrambled out head first onto the road and into the ditch, hyperventilating the whole way and praising the Lord for saving my soul. Good times.
Car Number Two: ancient grey/blue Hyundai Excel. Formerly my Nana’s, this car was meant to save me money and be altogether more reliable than the Familia. Well, that was a big fat Fail. Nana had assured me that the car didn’t use much oil and gas. Well, of course she thought it didn’t use much oil and gas: she never drove the thing. When I was finally over spending more than $100 a week in gas (plus the car was so slow one-legged cyclists would pass me up steep hills) I flogged it off for $300 more than I paid for it, to some unfortunate Canadian who was travelling the length and breadth of the country. A friend told me a few months later that they’d seen the car – still going – up in Whangarei, so it must’ve worked for him.
Car Number Three: little red 1989 Honda Civic; one of those ones that looks like a little bug. Two doors, ridiculously tiny boot, no power steering but not really big enough to demand it. It was constantly flooding itself, never started on a cold day, and always seemed to run out of gas at the most inopportune times. Bought it for a grand, sold it for just less to my father who on-sold it to someone else.
Then we come to Car Number Four: my amazing silver and very mature 1996 Nissan Pulsar sedan. I do love this car. My first grown-up car, I bought it off TradeMe last September. Passed an AA check: good-o. Passed its first WOF: excellent.
Until this week.
I’d noticed some weird vibrations and noises. The wheel alignment was definitely out; in fact, it had now got to the point where I was fighting with the steering wheel to keep the car straight. Finally, a little thought popped into my head telling me to go and get the car looked at, for goodness sakes.
“Hello, Erin speaking.”
“Hi Erin, it’s *** from Albany Automotive here. I’ve had a look at your car.”
“Oh, hi! (opportunity for friendly banter) Any bad news?” (insert hearty laugh intended to be reciprocated)
“Erin, I need to tell you that you’re very lucky to be alive.”
“Oh, ah, yes?” (insert major upward inflection here)
“Yes. All four tyres are so bald, they’re un-roadworthy. They’re actually illegal, and one of the tyres is so worn through that the wire cables on the inside are hanging out.”
“Oh, um, ok?” (insert small pitiful voice here)
“Erin, these are the most dangerous tyres I’ve seen in a long time. You seriously could have died.”
He told me off like a mother would after her four-year-old has just tried sticking a fork into a power socket. I have never felt so awful in my life – well, with the exception of running over that calf, of course.
First of August Resolution: pay more attention to my car, check the oil and water and gas regularly, check the tyre pressure much more frequently (I checked it for the first time in 10 months two weeks ago) and develop a good relationship with my tyres, for crying out loud!
I don’t particularly want to be another road statistic.
What I’m watching: New Zealand’s Next Top Model. One more week to go!
What I’m looking forward to: My first day at my new job. Redundancy has no hold over me anymore!
What I’m dreading: Getting into the swing of fulltime work again, and regular work times at that, after working shift work for as long as I’ve been employed.
What’s made me happy this week: Body Pump is finally paying off and I think, if I squint, I may be able to see some definition in my thighs.
What’s really annoyed me this week: Neighbours who park in the middle of the driveway so I can’t get around them, then get snarky at me for being rude and impatient. Uh, hello, you’re the one parked inconsiderately.
NRL Tipping Score: 80