So we have a car.
We've had it for almost a month now and I am still quite excited about it. Mark's parents came to visit us on the 21st of October. That friday we went to meet a man about his car because he was selling it cheap and I like cheap. Paul and Colette met us and looked it over and gave us the okay so the following day we gathered up the coin, got the insurance, paid the road tax and we had our car! Paul drove it home and parked it as I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to drive on the British roads just yet. They're really strange and backwards and all that, not to mention the car itself.
That's not where I live but Stepney Lane off of which I do live. And that is my bright blue car.
The following day Mark and his parents piled into the car and proceeded to give me a driving lesson. The roads are narrow, with cars parked on each side of the road and they have roundabouts which are crazy, insane and nothing like what we know, in CA at least. My first lesson went okay but Paul kept reminding me that I needed to keep both hands on the wheel and not to have a hand on the stick shift. He used to be a cop and he drives like one. In the end, however, they left and it would be up to Mark to help me get used to these British roads and I have to say he has done a fabulous job of it.
A week or so later Mark and I were heading home from my monday class and I made a right hand turn and the engine drops out and suddenly we have no power. It is all I can do to limp home and park the poor baby. A few days later the guy I bought it from came over, changed out the spark plugs and changed the oil but nothing worked.
I signed up for the British version of AAA which is, funnily enough, The AA and last weekend I finally got around to calling them to get someone to come out and take a look at the car. The tow truck came out and the driver was unable to figure out what was wrong as the car was not communicating with his diagnostic thingy. So he had to tow it to a garage. The garage is owned by a guy who has been working on cars his entire life and at the sight of him I was sure that if there was one thing he can do, it was work on cars. To my surprise he told me that he'd call me the following day. No one is open on a Sunday, at least things we take for granted aren't. The driver asked me yet again if I can get my way home and tried to tell me which direction to go to in order to get to Beverley (off of which I live). I had no clue where I was or how to get home but I am a firm believer in my phone's GPS and the power of the cab company to know how to find me and how to get me home. The tow truck driver must have felt sorry for this poor Californian since he took me back home, right after he made sure I understood that he isn't supposed to drop people back home. I thanked him profusely, signed the thing he needed me to sign and Mark & I went about our day.
Sure enough Sunday evening I get a call from him telling me that I can come and pick it up the next day. So Monday morning I call for a taxi and go to pick up my car. The cabbie engages me in political conversation in which I learn that all the political parties in the UK are all the same... save for one... the anarchists. The mechanic said that the cam belt was all gungked up and had we driven on it then it could have fried the entire engine. But now it runs really well and doesn't even complain. But that doesn't explain how I got from there home.
Now then, I have only been driving in the UK for a very short amount of time and I don't know where everything is yet and, just to make things interesting, they have one way roads! Isn't that fun? When the tow truck had taken me home on Saturday he tried to tell me how to get back onto Beverley but he said right on this and right on that and I had no idea what he was saying because I don't know the roads or their names.
I got lost.
At one point I was heading towards the docks and instead of continuing on through to the docks and following it back onto the main drag, I turned around and turned down a few more streets until I managed to somehow, miraculously get onto the main drag and find my way home. Since then I have managed to get to the St. Stephen's shopping center and back on my own and have I have been able to get Mark to and from work without getting lost either. We've also gone around town for one thing or another and, thanks to my phone, we've not gotten lost either.
In a couple of weeks we shall be making our way to Harrowgate (no, not sure where it is) for Mark's cousin's wedding and I have every confidence that the car will get us there and back safely. And then we'll have fun going to Birmingham to spend Christmas with his parents after which we'll head down to Derby to spend Boxing Day with his maternal family and then back home to Hull.
The only problem is, the car does not yet have a name! Mark & I aren't sure what to name our new baby.
We've had it for almost a month now and I am still quite excited about it. Mark's parents came to visit us on the 21st of October. That friday we went to meet a man about his car because he was selling it cheap and I like cheap. Paul and Colette met us and looked it over and gave us the okay so the following day we gathered up the coin, got the insurance, paid the road tax and we had our car! Paul drove it home and parked it as I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to drive on the British roads just yet. They're really strange and backwards and all that, not to mention the car itself.
The following day Mark and his parents piled into the car and proceeded to give me a driving lesson. The roads are narrow, with cars parked on each side of the road and they have roundabouts which are crazy, insane and nothing like what we know, in CA at least. My first lesson went okay but Paul kept reminding me that I needed to keep both hands on the wheel and not to have a hand on the stick shift. He used to be a cop and he drives like one. In the end, however, they left and it would be up to Mark to help me get used to these British roads and I have to say he has done a fabulous job of it.
A week or so later Mark and I were heading home from my monday class and I made a right hand turn and the engine drops out and suddenly we have no power. It is all I can do to limp home and park the poor baby. A few days later the guy I bought it from came over, changed out the spark plugs and changed the oil but nothing worked.
I signed up for the British version of AAA which is, funnily enough, The AA and last weekend I finally got around to calling them to get someone to come out and take a look at the car. The tow truck came out and the driver was unable to figure out what was wrong as the car was not communicating with his diagnostic thingy. So he had to tow it to a garage. The garage is owned by a guy who has been working on cars his entire life and at the sight of him I was sure that if there was one thing he can do, it was work on cars. To my surprise he told me that he'd call me the following day. No one is open on a Sunday, at least things we take for granted aren't. The driver asked me yet again if I can get my way home and tried to tell me which direction to go to in order to get to Beverley (off of which I live). I had no clue where I was or how to get home but I am a firm believer in my phone's GPS and the power of the cab company to know how to find me and how to get me home. The tow truck driver must have felt sorry for this poor Californian since he took me back home, right after he made sure I understood that he isn't supposed to drop people back home. I thanked him profusely, signed the thing he needed me to sign and Mark & I went about our day.
Sure enough Sunday evening I get a call from him telling me that I can come and pick it up the next day. So Monday morning I call for a taxi and go to pick up my car. The cabbie engages me in political conversation in which I learn that all the political parties in the UK are all the same... save for one... the anarchists. The mechanic said that the cam belt was all gungked up and had we driven on it then it could have fried the entire engine. But now it runs really well and doesn't even complain. But that doesn't explain how I got from there home.
Now then, I have only been driving in the UK for a very short amount of time and I don't know where everything is yet and, just to make things interesting, they have one way roads! Isn't that fun? When the tow truck had taken me home on Saturday he tried to tell me how to get back onto Beverley but he said right on this and right on that and I had no idea what he was saying because I don't know the roads or their names.
I got lost.
At one point I was heading towards the docks and instead of continuing on through to the docks and following it back onto the main drag, I turned around and turned down a few more streets until I managed to somehow, miraculously get onto the main drag and find my way home. Since then I have managed to get to the St. Stephen's shopping center and back on my own and have I have been able to get Mark to and from work without getting lost either. We've also gone around town for one thing or another and, thanks to my phone, we've not gotten lost either.
In a couple of weeks we shall be making our way to Harrowgate (no, not sure where it is) for Mark's cousin's wedding and I have every confidence that the car will get us there and back safely. And then we'll have fun going to Birmingham to spend Christmas with his parents after which we'll head down to Derby to spend Boxing Day with his maternal family and then back home to Hull.
The only problem is, the car does not yet have a name! Mark & I aren't sure what to name our new baby.
