serves me right...
Because I'm such a lazy ass mofo, I finally broke down on my way too work this morning on the worst possible road you can break down on.
People in Bristol will know of Beaufort Road in St George, the 'short cut' which is used by everyone & their poodles so in reality it is probably more stuffed with traffic than the 'stuffed with traffic' main road and therefore not much of a short cut really.
Anyway, residents park their cars up one side of this road, there is traffic calming measures all down it & if 2 cars want to pass each other in opposite directions you have to inch very slowly past hoping your wing mirror doesn't want a full on hump with the other, or the side of your car. So there's me, trundling down this road, stop, start, stop, start when my car stalls. And it won't bloody start. And then the sickening realisation when I'm desparately praying for it to start on the next try is that maybe going out & freezing my tits off in the icy, crappy weather, buying petrol the night before instead of snuggling down on the sofa in the warm with the cat, a large bowl of crisps & Eastenders on catch up TV was probably a really good idea.
I counted 30 beeps, 3 effing & blinding white van men, 4 middle fingers & a wanker sign while I waited for my dad with emergency petrol.
Honestly, I never knew the british public could be so warm & understanding. Fuckers.
People in Bristol will know of Beaufort Road in St George, the 'short cut' which is used by everyone & their poodles so in reality it is probably more stuffed with traffic than the 'stuffed with traffic' main road and therefore not much of a short cut really.
Anyway, residents park their cars up one side of this road, there is traffic calming measures all down it & if 2 cars want to pass each other in opposite directions you have to inch very slowly past hoping your wing mirror doesn't want a full on hump with the other, or the side of your car. So there's me, trundling down this road, stop, start, stop, start when my car stalls. And it won't bloody start. And then the sickening realisation when I'm desparately praying for it to start on the next try is that maybe going out & freezing my tits off in the icy, crappy weather, buying petrol the night before instead of snuggling down on the sofa in the warm with the cat, a large bowl of crisps & Eastenders on catch up TV was probably a really good idea.
I counted 30 beeps, 3 effing & blinding white van men, 4 middle fingers & a wanker sign while I waited for my dad with emergency petrol.
Honestly, I never knew the british public could be so warm & understanding. Fuckers.
posted by LMPP at 1:03 PM
