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STORIES AND EBAY SALES
1 AN OLD LAND ROVER
STORY 9 SELLING A LAND ROVER HOOD
I sold the hood through the Landover Lightweight club. It sold to a gentleman named Steve in Preston who works for the local council.
Email from Steve
Hi Dave. Is the canvas reasonably thick? I know not much can be expected for the price. I will send a cheque for £35.00
I will send it tomorrow morning
May see you on the road sometime
My Email Answer.
The hood is as thick as a thick thing and I do not think you will be dissatisfied.
I await your cheque and will send my accountant, (the mother in-law), off to the bank with it as soon as it arrives. I will mail you as to how and when it is being delivered.
I am sure it will be by Royal Mail as the Post office is just down the road. The parcels heavy so the Mother in law will only be able to manage it that far. She has a tray on the front of her Zimmer frame to hold shopping etc, although with this weight she may tip up if she goes too fast. I would take it myself but she likes to get out now and again.
You may not see me on the road, but may see my cherished one, as she likes to play "Sleeping Policemen". This game consists of lying down in the road pretending to be a sleeping policeman, when a car comes along you leap up in front of the vehicle, put your hand up, and say "hello hello where’s the fire then sir" then run off. My wife’s problem is that with her bad knees her leaping up is rather slow, so the game tends to turn from sleeping policemen to lets play road kill. However, it does keep her busy what with the bandaging and plasters etc.
Cheque arrived with a compliment slip.
I received the cheque. My mother in law was waiting by the front door in classic Greek Olympian “Relay runner waiting for the baton” stance. As soon as the post arrived I took the envelope, placed what I thought was the cheque in her gnarled hand, and shouted into her hearing trumpet GO GO GO. She took off like a Cheetah, (well not so much a Cheetah as a decrepit asthmatic aged lioness whose legs have been withered by liopresy. This is similar to leopresy but that attacks leopards). She hobbled back an hour later with your compliment slip, silly me in my haste I had given her the wrong bit of paper. Oh how we laughed as she hit me about the head with her enema insertion tool, a very big, smelly, and scary object she carries about as she suffers from chronic piles.
The cheque is now safe in the bank after a second trip, made by myself this time.
So that I may send the canvas off ASAP I am having the cheque fast tracked, the price I find is quite reasonable and breaks down as.
Armed Guard £ 1.00
Special vetting £ 3.50
Clear cheque with 150 point £2.50
Telephone call to confirm clearance £32.00
Not bad is it, its lucky we know the telephonist at the bank as the charge could have been a lot more
The telephonist is a neighbour who drives a Ferrari, and here is me thinking bank wages were low, you do wonder how they afford to live sometimes.
The missus has just thrown a wobbly as the mother in-law just informed her I have sold the hood. Do not worry though young Steve the hood is yours.
It transpires that my wife, who has great millinery expertise, was thinking of using the hood as a hat for the next Ascot meet. She has been attending for many years, showing off her often outrageous headwear. She always uses Land Rover parts as much as possible. Last year she created a 3-meter high extravaganza of spare wheel covers mounted on top off each other, much in the form of the baskets carried by the old time Billings Gate fish porters. The year before that, it was a gearbox, complete with transfer casing and drive shafts, with wheel rims as earrings. This year it was to be the frame and hood from my Land Rover, with the sides over her ears and the front part that sits over the driver as a peak. The frame being supported on her shoulders, I mollified her somewhat by suggesting she used instead the front wings and bonnet with the grille as a necklace and wing mirrors as earrings. Although she is thinking of wearing WiFi ariels instead.
My wife’s fascination with the turf is not the horses or betting, but the jockeys. On her first visit to the Leicester racecourse she was chatted up by a jockey, a dashing young man all of 4ft 3inches tall. He may have thought my wife a fine filly, or admired her large posterior, which with her long ponytail hairdo looked uncannily like the view a Waggoner would have of his team. He may just have fancied the challenge of saddling her up for a jump over Beeches. We will sadly never know, because the affair lasted for only a fleeting traumatic few seconds. After a few chat up lines he romantically touched her knee, (it was the highest part of her anatomy he could reach), which immediately jerked up due to her spasm attacks, and hit him in the chin with such force that he was propelled backwards into, (I do mean into), the rear of a large horse being trotted around the ring.
It took four hours to extract him, and he was last seen wobbling bow legged from the course never to ride again. My wife so upset but thrilled by this episode, attends races often in the hope that a small man may again become flirtatious, she now wears a knee brace to control the spasms just in case.
The Hood was dispatched
E mail to Steve
As we speak our trusty mail carrier, Bernard Entwhistle, is pedalling as fast as he can go on his trusty bike up to Preston I have computer probs so will spkek tu i littttter im weeg sury boooot tis.
Email to Steve when I got a computer that worked
Hope Bernard got there all right. He’s not back yet but its downhill all the way so he should have no problems. You must tell me if he tried to cadge any oil for his chain, he is always doing it. I think he is hooked on sniffing 3 in 1 oil and rubbing it on certain body parts, but we have yet to catch him at it. His cycle trouser clips, hold up most of the drips, so it is hard to tell. He is getting better though as he was on the real hard stuff, EP90 gearbox oil, and that is heavy stuff man.
Sorry about the terse message, but my computer went belly up on me and I had to get another one. The old one ran on steam power, and although still operable the screen was steaming up on the inside. As all the characters on the keyboard are completely eroded off due to the roughness of my dear ones fingers, I had difficulty in knowing what I was typing. So I apologise for any risqué words that may have got through.
To stop the screen steaming up I turned the valve down, this caused boiler pressure. (That is the steam boiler in the cellar. Not to be confused with the old boiler, the wife), which blew a gasket and par boiled the mother in law who was stoking the furnace.
So it’s an all singing all dancing gas powered one now. We where looking at those new fangled electricikity thingies, but the wife is getting a bit old to keep pedalling the crank on the generator. Also with the mother in law in bed suffering from third degree burns we have a ready supply of gas. With her numerous operations, (hushed tones “down there”), and various bowel part additions and removals her production of methane is prodigious, she is a one-woman global warming machine. Therefore, with a little plumbing, we can run a pipe from her nether regions into the gas main and as well as heating the whole house, we can run all the appliances. The only cost is a ready supply of baked beans, onions and cabbage. In this case “Beanz meanz gaz”. We may even sell the surplus.
The new computer is a real daisy state of the art jobby. It came fully loaded with up to the minute games like that ping pong bat and ball game and Lotus 123, the man also mentioned WYSIWYG but the wife thought he was being rude and gave him a Glasgow kiss followed by a knee to the groin. How we did laugh.
Getting the parcel to the Post office was not without mishap. The mother in laws walking frame had a tendency to tip up. This was due to the Tesco wobbly/stiff wheel syndrome, not to be confused with the Morrisons wobbly/squeaky wheel syndrome. The wobbly/squeaky wheel just does as the name implies, the faster you go the wobblier and squeakier it becomes. This has the effect of making you go slower and therefore buy more. The wobbly/stiff Tesco wheel actually gives the trolley a life of its own, and applies Newton’s third law about opposite and opposing forces. In this case the wheel does exactly the opposite of what you want and opposes any corrections you try to implement, this means you go down the aisles with the most expensive goods, and cannot turn in time, therefore completely missing the 2 for 1 offers in the cheap aisles. (Cunning people these Tesco Walla’s). I had a spare Land Rover series one axle in the yard. I took off the old wheels and with a bit of nifty welding and modified her frame to take the new axle. It was a bit heavy, but once moving what with inertia and kinetic energy rolled along quite easily, the problem was in stopping it.
There is a natural law that says. “If a really heavy object like a 2 tonne boulder starts to roll, it is mans instinct to try to stop it even though it will crush him”. You see it on “off road” days, where a Landover is about to tip over and the person standing guiding tries to stop it, he instinctively puts his body between the Landover and the ground with the inevitable gory consequences.
So it was with the ma in law and her frame. Off she and the frame went on its maiden voyage down the hill to the village. All went well at first, but as inertia took over and the frame went faster, the mother in law clutching the handlebars tried to pull it back. She would not let go, and as the frame gathered momentum, she gripped tighter; her legs were like bees wings trying to keep up. I had rigged a temporary cable brake system to the drums, worked by holding the wire in her teeth and pulling back the head, but when in desperation she tried it her false teeth were yanked out with such force that they went straight through Plate glass window of Mr. Ned Alnib the local newsagent, narrowly missing his left eye, and embedding themselves in a block of Tibetan Yak dung pipe tobacco. Ned for some strange reason dived to the floor, grabbed an AK47 rifle he had hidden under the counter and started blasting away indiscriminately through the broken window. He was a refugee from Afghanistan and probably thought it was a terrorist attack poor man. Obviously traumatized by his experience there no doubt. After this incident he disappeared along with the butcher’s daughter who had a thing for bearded dark eyed gentlemen.
I was so proud of the ma in law, as with true British bulldog spirit she would not let this thing beat her. Even though as she reached warp speed, with her slippers dragging on the ground producing copious amounts of black smoke as they smouldered, she tenaciously held on. Until with unerring accuracy, steering with her knees, she guided the projectile through the doors of the Post Office. Completely demolishing a nice display of self lick envelopes, (the posties wife has a fetish about licking envelopes mmm). On the way through.
Momentum took over
She then disappeared out of the back door in a cloud of smoke, steam, prit stick pads and biros.
There was a lot of talk in the local press about ram raiding, road rage, and the Women’s institute. The police want to question several “Hoodies”, seen selling poppies and collecting for age concern outside the post office minutes before the incident. The fact they were old age pensioners was of no consequence, it’s the hoods the police are after. This has taken the heat off the mother, who up until dinnertime was resting heavily sedated, but soon chirped up when I produced a mobility scooter. Ok its second hand and the commode seat smells a bit, but with a V8 3.5 engine with auto box, pink seat and furry dice it should get up to 90mph, which is plenty fast enough in Sainsbury’s. I disposed of the damming evidence by burying the frame and axles in the garden. I wonder what a thousand years from now the then equivalent of Tony Robinson and his Time Team will make of it, probably what they do now, which is a lot of surmising on very little evidence.
Front page of The Glenflield Finger (Pointing the way)
Steve received the Canvas hood and was really pleased and asked what I used to refurbish it with
Hi Glad you like it young Steve.
I used a product called Mystox TSP Supplied to NATO by a company called Catomance, and used extensively in the third world for the refurbishment and treatment of tents.
The only way I got some was through the Landover 101 club. A mate is a member. I put it on a few months ago hoping it would seal the holes. Before that if you laid in the back of the Landover in the sunlight and looked up at the canvas it showed a striking resemblance to the night sky, in fact it was so realistic the local Astronomy club used it as a planetarium. Before I cleaned it; it was an arboretum, and I belong in a sanatorium. (Lots of "ums" starting to appear must be the weather, or could it be a nasty flu type virus, I will investigate.)
Just Google Mystox TSP and you will get all the info you want.
All the best Dave.