I took the car to the Romanian lads in the next town, slipped them a couple of tenners (not tenors, that’s something quite different) then sat on the chair away from it all, go my Kindle out and cracked on with one of the books I’m currently reading.
About 40 minutes later (it could have been sooner or later, I was very engrossed in my book) I was called over to inspect the car. It shone. It glistened. It gleamed. And that was just the inside. Outside, it looked like a brand new car.
I did my little walk around (the Romanian lads expect this) and stopped at the rear offside quarter panel. The layers of dirt and mud had concealed that someone had swiped me. It’s only paintwork damage, not panel damage, and I know a paint technician who will come out and cover it up so professionally you’d never know it had happened.
But this is the 3rd (maybe 4th) occasion that my car has been bumped while it was parked outside the house (I assume it happened here, the previous 2 or maybe 3 bumps all happened here). I reckon it’ll cost about £100 to fix. Why are some people such absolutely hateful examples of humanity? And why aren’t they capable of driving properly?
The Romanian lads up our way do a very good in and out for twenty quid, too.
Don’t go there that often: either when I want to give the car a bit of a treat or when I just can’t be arsed to do it myself.
You should have seen the state of the car after Sunday’s muddy dogwalk!