after a rush to get people to the station i’m off in the bus, heading south, although i’m going to a gallery preview in dartmouth i’m still in with the general flow of traffic heading to run to the sun in newquay.
i trundle through the outskirts of bristol heading for the M5 with the clash and crystal method on the stereo and the hum of the exhaust in my ears, life is good. i smile inwardly to myself thinking of all the dead bugs and buses that should be littering the roads between here and cornwall. predictably enough, as i round the corner driving through sea mills with the M5 insight the accellerator pedal twists under my foot and falls flat to the floor. after a moments panic i roll the bus over onto the side of the road and up onto the pavement – taking a chunk out of the front alloy wheel in the process-
if its the throttle cable i’m stuffed. i don’t have another cable with me and its a pain in the butt job to do. i hope that its just a linkage. i crawl under the font of he bus. as i thought. the pedal arm linkage has fallen off its pivot. it’s so lucky that i greased all this only last month. the grease has had a good month to pick up al the mud dust and crap that it can and now is a nasty think black gunk congealed around the parts in question just aching to nestle its way into the fibres of the clean clothes i’m wearing.
the split pin through the end of the throttle arm pivot pin has sheared and the arms has just dropped off. a simple job, lucky i brought the full tool bocks with me. sadly the one spare i don’t carry is any split pins. after a bit of rummaging i find some copper wire i can improvise with. funny how volkswagens teach you that, how to improvise by the roadside. they also seem to ensure that no matter how short the jouney or how clean you are when you set off. before you get where you’re going you’re going to get covered in oil or grease or some such mechanical noxion (noxion, is that a word, noxion as is the stuff of noxiousness- a blob of something that is noxious???) maybe it’s just to make sure that later in teh evening, in the bar, the restaurant, the gallery the exclusive soire?… wherever its is – when you go to shake hands or wave you look down at the ingrained noxion that mere soap and hot water will not remove (in fact nothing short of amputation or a major skin graft will not remove!) and are gently – playfully- reminded of the antique toxic waste receptacle without heating that’s parked in the carpark waiting to freeze you to death on the journey home….