Runaway

I don’t generally blog about people I work with, but I couldn’t resist this one.

A close colleague told me today that he had to take his car in to be assessed for a paint job on the doors. “So what happened,” I asked, like you do. I couldn’t help but laugh as the story unfolded.

Close colleague is having a new kitchen installed. He had bought complete himself and then paid someone to put it in and this left him with lots of chipboard and formica to get rid of.

He decided to do it himself, taking it to the tip in the back of his car. There were several uneventful tip-trips. Until the last one.

His drive is a steep one, front of car pointing downwards. He loaded the last bits of wood and was left with a piece of worktop. “Yeah, I can get this in,” he thought to himself and forced it through tailgate.

Said piece of worktop shoots over the lowered seats and hits the handbrake. Car moves gently forwards.

Meanwhile, both the driver and passenger doors are open. At the bottom of the slope is a stone driveway post on either side. Colleague gives up trying to haul the car back and dives in the driver’s door and hits the brake — which doesn’t work.

Then BANG! Car doors hit the driveway posts, but on it continues across the road. A car and a bus screech to a halt on either side, and the car comes to rest against his opposite neighbour’s wall, bits of kitchen strewn behind.

Colleague’s wife arrives ten minutes later. “Had a bit of an accident?” she observes. “Can you get this lot to the tip?”

“She was angry for about ten seconds,” he said. “Then she said this sort of thing always happens to you.” I know how he feels.

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

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