#09 Wheels

Monday last, and my first drive out in my car: the petrol gauge is hovering in the red zone, but that's OK because there's a BP garage at the end of my route. All I have to do is fill her up there, and then I've got plenty left in the tank to get home. Or at least, that was the plan.

The advantage of buying a car off of a mechanic is that you know the car will be in pretty good nick. He's fitted it with new tyres, a new exhaust, installed a new radio. Trouble is, he'd also installed a new petrol cap. One that needs a key. A key that he still had.

As if getting stuck in a queue at the petrol station wasn't bad enough - a white van man and a taxi driver in front of me, both on their mobiles and neither in a great hurry - finding out you can't get the petrol cap open is even more annoying. So I had a car, but I couldn't drive it again until Wednesday.

In-between doing family and neighbours odd DIY jobs for a little petrol money, I finally got the chance to drive out on my own. Nothing major at first - just around the town or through the Longfield lanes - but by Thursday I felt confident enough to drive to Rasell's house for an evening BBQ. Here's where the trouble begins. I was concentrating so hard on missing his next-door neighbour's car when trying to park, that I missed his next-door neighbour's garden wall.

Thanks very much to Rasell, his mate Tony, and his dad for helping change the wheel. Luckily, the tyre was still in tact, so it only needed a mallet to knock the dent out of the hub. At least I know now that I can drive, but more practice at parking is required. And lining up at the Dartford Toll Booths as well: at least I could reach on the second attempt...