Beautiful gearbox

Neil, of auto gearbox services, re-affirmed that it would have been impossible for the overdrive to have ever functioned properly. The operational valve was missing completely, the cone was also split. The linkage was sloppy and the thrust nut worn. The gearbox had been re-sealed and built up properly for £245.00. The total cost of the finished unit being £495.00.

This price, compared with other suppliers, is slightly less favourable, but not having an exchange box would consequently incur an extra surcharge, in any case this factor may have pushed the alternative choice over budget. Nonetheless, knowing that the work has been expertly and professionally undertaken categorically out ways the monetary issue. Returning excitedly with the box I found Chris finalising the assembly of the rear hubs. As more parts are added to the chassis the workshop is gradually emptying, larger areas of floor space have gradually been revealed. The past five days of graft, that initially appeared to be fruitless, was there to be examined, tenderly explored. Not at first sight a dramatic display of development but subtle unsung changes. “Don’t worry Ni, we’re getting there” and, we are!             

Even after ‘un bon douche’ and vigorous scrubbing with my new nailbrush I still carried, like an ASBO, the badge of dirt from the morning; aluminium polishing definitely leaves its mark. The past life of clean, sanitised working environments, silk ties, groovy shirts, pressed suits, shiny shoes, behind me I proudly showed off my grubby workman’s hands. 

At every opportunity I was more than happy to wave, point, scratch casually gesticulating to anyone around the bar. Flapping a twenty pound note I wasn’t really asking friends if they wanted a drink but was actually saying, “look, everybody at my grimy, blackened knarled fingers, I’ve worked damn hard today, with my hands, powerful electric man tools, not like you cissies, poncing and mincing about all day pen pushing, sitting in warm air conditioned offices. I am a real man”. The reality of this false boasting is that I genuinely detest having the slightest bit of shite under my fingernails, but it is probably the same adage to that of an ‘artist without an audience’ who cannot function. It is the recognition of ‘work’ by others that ultimately drives people on. Or, perhaps, just like Monica with a cigar, Posh spice with her solo singing career, ugly Welsh Maureen, who couldn’t drive and that fat loud bird from Rochdale with eight kids who was claiming 36 grand in benefits, it is the modern demise of talentless, self promoting slappers seeking celebrity with absolutely nothing to offer.