Thursday, August 13, 2009

vehicular haemorrhage


Fuck.

So my car’s engine fell out.

Let me start again: Fuck.

When someone tells you bad things happen in threes, do remember, that they’re usually all within mere hours of each other.

It all started with a sneakily executed spray-on tan, roughly 2:00pm yesterday afternoon. Which rapidly transgressed into All Hail Ye, It’s The Oros [Wo]Man.

She promised me I wouldn’t look like a naartjie. She swore on her life.

And yet, say hello to your little orange friend. I’m a walking, living, breathing, stressing, Tangerine Machine – mainly because I thought getting a subtle spray-on tan during my lunch hour, would be a suitable launch pad into summer, and like next week, a bikini.

And to think, I rather liked the disposable doondies they handed to me, and the ass cream I bought got coerced into forking out a shitload for.

Bootcamp For Butts….Because Lipo Sucks, it’s called. Good one, I mean, I fell for it. Were the product’s copywriters on crack? (geddit? Crack.)
Crisis.

Yet, not completely and overly bothered about my new skin tone, I retire after a long day to my car.

Now, I don’t care much for suspension. Speed bumps aren’t something I slow down for, and for this much I take responsibility. In fact, I swerve and hump the pavement to avoid them on the office park streets.

So as normal yesterday, went full speed over the little fuckers, much like how my colleague does it in his Land Rover and looks decidedly austere, when suddenly.

A loud kathonk interrupts Julio Iglesias (Don’t Ask. Just don’t), blaring, in Spanish, from my speakers.

That can’t be right. Beetles are built for offroad. Mine’s taken it up the batty on embankments before, coming off [relatively] unscathed.

A horrible dragging noise pursues. My car, however, is, at this moment, still rolling, albeit sounding like a combine harvester scraping over concrete. While collared-shirt consultants look on, in shocked bemusement.

Shit.

Get out, look at the tyres. Nothing.

Two dudes stop and say, ‘Ma’am…I saw it drop off.’

That’s never a good thing to hear. In any circumstances.

(Was waiting for ‘Say….did you just holiday in Orange County? snigger snigger?’)

They peer under my car, and good news. It’s not the engine. Just the entire fucking undercarriage. It’s dropped clean off. And is now wedged between my exposed exhaust system and some other large hydraulic-looking thingies.

I reverse, and they tug at it, pushing beads, until they yank out this large metal-carbon thing.

That can’t be good. The car’s still running though, so maybe I don’t need this thing anyway. Maybe VW just sticks it in there because they’re German and they can.

Jumping about saying things like ‘For love of Cunty MacCunterson’s ballbag!’ while waving about a giant chunk of sheet metal, I kind of lurk about wondering what the fuck to do next.

Fold it, and stuff it, alongside other mechanical detritus that has fallen off, into my boot, using my foot.

It’s a tight squeeze getting a cooler box into my boot, nevermind a fucken engine.
Check it out – my engine’s in my boot, just like in the old model Beetles.

Of all the fuckness. Good thing this happened in the office park and not while going at 150km/h down the frigging highway.

My car noticeably lighter, I drive off, and start giggling hysterically. Well what else are you gonna do? Uh, the entire underside of my car decided to fuck off – whatchagonnado except giggle and not drive over potholes/gravel/bumps/a stone, like, ever again?

The shock finally sinks in and I’m coasting along, and fail to notice a robot going red and by inches, inches miss t-boning a bloody S-Class Mercedes.

I nearly collided with an expensive car, without an undercarriage, so I probably would’ve sublimed on impact, and being tangerine, I wouldn’t have looked good in the body bag.

Just five minutes later, I nearly fucking had a horrible and expensive car accident.

So, yeah, a little rattled.

About as rattley as my car, what with shit just falling off – willy-nilly – from it.

Cool party trick though: ‘Wanna see something wicked?’ Open the boot, ‘Yeah, it’s my car’s undercarriage. It’s just not under the car anymore.’

Realised that driving/cars, in general, have dealt me as much trauma as men have. Tossed and turned and started to wonder. Hang on – things don’t just fall off cars. Do they? Things have to be unscrewed or tampered with. Don't they?

My God someone is trying to kill me.

Paranoia or truth?

15 comments:

The Levi Store said...

Peas, so good seeing you yesterday, gllad you enjoyed the swallow! OK, its public now..

As to cars? They are similar to boats.. a car is a black hole in the road that you throw money into.. once you understand the fact its all plain sailing.. just throw the cash.. and it will be ok!

Peas on Toast said...

Yeah I do realise that - cars just suck money out of you, bad investment etc etc - but do undercariiages just FALL OFF??

I SMELL SOMETHING MOST FOUL.

Secret said...

My grabdfather used to have a beetle - an old one which he driove until it literally fell apart. On one occasion the back window flew out on the highway and then sometimes later the battery just dropped out of the car - not to mention that the floor was so rusted away, it was almost a flintstone car.

As for accidents, I only have one midly amusing story...I drive into a boat 3 months after getting my license! Remembering it still makes me howl with laughter.

Peas on Toast said...

Secret - shit your comment made me laugh!
1) You drove into a BOAT?? Dude...sorry, but hysterical. Most of us drive into poles/other cars.

2) The battery just fell out? wahahahahahahahahaha

Sorry, but that's fucken funny :)

paul said...

Obviously that crazy psycho bitch who was copying your blog is taking revenge on you for outing her!

Peas on Toast said...

Obviously!!

She didn't cut the brakes, she thought she'd be sneaky by unbloting the entire undercarriage.

Clever little bitch. :)

icepick said...

I was watching some of the latest episodes of Top Gear last night...And just thought id inform you that Mr Hamster has quite the noticeable receding hairline... ?
The girl/man is going bald Peas... Are you seriously attracted to bald men who drive slower than Jeremy?

Ps.. My old school VW beetle didn't wana start yesterday after some heavy hail :(

Peas on Toast said...

icepick - yup, still very much in love with The Hamster.
Even if he's receding, he's still better looking than Jeremy and frankly I don't blame him for driving slower - I mean for 1) he could lose an undercarraige at the drop of a hat, and 2) he nearly died.

Sorry to hear about the Beetle hail damage - I'll call Hammond and ask him his personal advice on the matter. Purely for your benefit of course :)

icepick said...

haha yeah im pretty sure if u got the Hamster's attention, he'd rather be inclined to investigate your undercarriage... hehe

Peas on Toast said...

icepick - any idea of how I could make him forget about his wife and kids for, you know, maybe a few hours?
(a day would be optimum though.)

icepick said...

I'm pretty certain he'd only last a few seconds.. haha

Dam Peas..So you serious about your mojo making a comeback lol

Peas on Toast said...

icepick I am indeed!
Which is why I got the tan - to show off some leg and get into the vibe.

I also cleaned my house.

It ties in with mojo. Somehow :)

DelBoy said...

Forget the car, I want to see a pic of the Tangerine Dream!

"Never mind Orange County, do you come from the Orange Free State?"

Peas on Toast said...

hahahahahahahahaha! ;)

Chris said...

Awesome article, I enjoyed this.

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