Boy, do I feel foolish. I knew the thing wrong with my car was somewhere near the front, because I could hear a strange rumble when I drove D home last night. I parked up against the wall, and made a mental note to check out under the car in the morning.
This morning, I called the garage first thing, and they said bring it in. So I drove up the Kilburn High Road, getting a few strange looks along the way. The bloke in the garage wanted to drive it round the block, to hear the rumble, but I said I was a bit worried about that. So he got out his yoga mat, and was just about to lie under the car and check it out, when he said to me:
"You've got a flat tyre, love. Shouldn't have been driving on that."
Cue red face, hasty leaving of keys and getting the hell out of there. Women and cars, eh?
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