When Nelson Mandela was released from prison, 25 years ago in February 1990, he said he felt that he'd climbed a very big hill only to see many hills ahead. This after 26 years of incarceration. He went on climbing the hills. I know this detail because there's a newspaper cutting paying tribute to Mandela's life, dated 8 Dec 2013, three days after his death, pinned to the wall of our toilet.
In my down times, which are not all that frequent but can be persistent- with a tendency to snowball till shaken off- that is how I feel, that life is a succession of problems. I feel tired, of one problem after another, I feel trapped by external forces, dragging me down and grinding away my peace of mind. Tired of constant harassment and demands that deprive me of 'freedom'. Small things the size of a pea seem like a football. The proverbial molehill looks like a mountain.
Yet unlike Nelson Mandela I have never been incarcerated. I have freedom of choice every day to use my time however I wish. I can indulge in a glass of wine, watch television, go for a walk, kiss my wife, enjoy home cooking, take a hot bath, talk to friends, rub my dog's velvet ears, or smell the fresh air or rain or sit and watch the sunset, every day of my life if I so choose.
The point is that it is up to me. I can choose to dwell on negatives or problems and let them dominate me, or I can revel in the freedom I have and the beauty around me and just deal with things as best I can as I have the need to.
Yesterday I met a man who had recently fought a battle with cancer. He has fully recovered but there are no guarantees. He said every day is a bonus and he lets nothing get him down now.
None of us have any say in where we are born or the circumstances. Much of what comes to us is out of our control. How we respond is up to us.
I'm enjoying life. We have booked a flight to Europe and a Mediterranean cruise and a week on Crete for later this year. How good is that for something to look forward to?
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Frank's Stone
Since my last post about Frankston I have been trying to remember who told me a story about how Frankston got its name, but it still escapes me.
I think it was a local person, whose great/great grandfather was a carpenter (or a ship's captain with a team of carpenters). He had the contract to build the original pier at Frankston, this before there was anything much there at all, and before it was named Frankston. He had a number of blokes working for him and an aboriginal youth named Frank. At the end of each day's work Frank took a walk on the hill above the pier and sat on a large stone on the hill and watched the sunset. The stone became known as Frank's stone, as did the locality as time went by, and over time it was shortened to Frankston.
I'm sure that whoever it was that told me this story was not pulling my leg, and they firmly believed it to be true. For the life of me I can't remember who it was, but as I have been writing this it came over me that I was told it in the corner store/supermarket in Emerald on the Monbulk Rd corner. It has also just come over me that the person telling me shared my surname, Williams, but I still can't put a face or identity to the person.
The mind can play tricks and start you believing things that are not accurate when you try hard to remember things, so I may be barking up the wrong tree away from the scent, but I'm sure the story is what I was told, not something I dreamed. I think it was an old bloke I got chatting to in the supermarket perhaps.
I always liked the story.
I think it was a local person, whose great/great grandfather was a carpenter (or a ship's captain with a team of carpenters). He had the contract to build the original pier at Frankston, this before there was anything much there at all, and before it was named Frankston. He had a number of blokes working for him and an aboriginal youth named Frank. At the end of each day's work Frank took a walk on the hill above the pier and sat on a large stone on the hill and watched the sunset. The stone became known as Frank's stone, as did the locality as time went by, and over time it was shortened to Frankston.
I'm sure that whoever it was that told me this story was not pulling my leg, and they firmly believed it to be true. For the life of me I can't remember who it was, but as I have been writing this it came over me that I was told it in the corner store/supermarket in Emerald on the Monbulk Rd corner. It has also just come over me that the person telling me shared my surname, Williams, but I still can't put a face or identity to the person.
The mind can play tricks and start you believing things that are not accurate when you try hard to remember things, so I may be barking up the wrong tree away from the scent, but I'm sure the story is what I was told, not something I dreamed. I think it was an old bloke I got chatting to in the supermarket perhaps.
I always liked the story.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Frankston and Ghani
Last Tuesday we took Gord's Skoda to the dealer in Frankston. I had booked it in the previous week, having to wait till Tuesday as apparently they are busy and have no vacancies for days ahead. They said the earlier we get it there the better chance there would be that it would be finished that day as it would give them more time to source what part they may need. We left a little after 6am and were waiting at the gate 5 minutes before the place opened at 7.30.
By this time we knew what the problem was. A broken plastic elbow at the base of the windscreen washer bottle. The previous week in an attempt to avoid a day wasted going to Frankston I jacked the car up and took off the front right wheel and the panel lining the wheel area and the engine and found the broken elbow. I glued it (which didn't work, I found out later), and put it back and the panel and the wheel having wasted two hours but at least I knew what the problem was. I had hoped it might be as simple as a loose hose. I rang them at Skoda Frankston and told them what the problem was in the hope they would get the necessary part in before we went there, to avoid wasting a day going down there to be told what I already knew, and that we we would have to come back when they got the part. The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (Robert Burns 1785 Steinbeck 1937).
The service people were polite and suggested we wait in the lounge, which we did, while the mechanics, who start work at 8am, examined the car and would give us an estimate on how long it would take. We discovered when booking the car in and providing them with the VIN that there had been a recall on that model and they would look into that too when we brought it down, to see if our vehicle had had the defect fixed. I sat in the plush lounge suite and read a Wheels Mag for ten minutes before falling into a blissful warm sleep (having an erotic dream) before being woken by the service clerk to tell me the car would take 2.5 hours, would we like a lift into town, and they could pick us up again later.
"How far is it?" I asked, to be told it was 5 or 10 minutes walk.
"No we'll walk," I replied. "We'll walk back about lunchtime."
"That'd be good, it will definitely ready by then," he said.
It was warm already at about 8.30 when we set out. The joint at the base of my big toe had been giving me buggery for a few days, to do with the RA, but walking slowly was not too bad although I limped to keep the pain minimal.We had a cooler bag and waterbottles and I was feeling strangely relaxed and pleasant. It was a day off for me, and here we were exploring what seemed like Car City. In my imagination I was in a foreign land, so different was it to my usual environment. We went past Suzuki, Kia and Mitsubishi dealerships, various mechanical repair shops, tyre fitting places, car upholstery, brake specialists. None of these were open as it was before 9, the street had litter everywhere, there was a railway line on the other side of the road. The grass in the nature strip was brown and what plants were in front of businesses were stunted and usually damaged and misshapen. It was real grungeville. A guy in a hurry passed us, he had short hair and a tattooed scalp I could plainly see as he went past, and various rings in his face and ears, otherwise we walked almost with the footpath to ourselves except for an Asian couple I suggested we follow as I reckoned they'd be going to the mall or shopping precinct.
The Asians turned at a corner where there was a big motor bike shop which advertised 'Harley rides on the Bayside'. Behind it was a tattoo shop, then a pawnbroker. We continued down to the Bayside Mall which was quiet and almost empty at the early hour. Shop keepers were arriving. We found a food court that had a 'Healthy Habits' eatery open and we indulged in a not so healthy egg and bacon roll and coffee. It was lovely having nothing pressing to do. As the people numbers increased I watched them walk by and noted their clothing. All shapes and sizes and ages. There were a lot of security people, most of whom looked like they could not secure nor stop anything but they had walkie talkies so I guess they would quickly have numerical advantage for most eventualities.
I was most impressed watching the two ladies working in the 'Healthy Habits'. They were pleasant when they served us and worked diligently when there were no customers preparing rolls carefully and arranging them for display with real purpose. It was early in the day but I thought how hard it would be working there all day on your feet dealing with food and people and then having to clean up. It looked like a franchise type shop, I don't know if one or both were owners or employees but I could feel nothing but admiration for them. This feeling extended to other employees in this mall and shops. It would not be easy working all day in this enclosed environment. There was a general good feeling about the whole place and the people working and shopping there. People getting on with their lives the best they could with no sign of disharmony. In fact there was a friendliness exuding that surprised me. I did not expect to find this at a mall in Frankston.
I wanted a hair cut, and to shop at Chemist Warehouse type place, these were two other objectives of mine for the day. There was a 'Big Chemist' in the mall so we headed there first thinking we'd check prices there and compare with 'Priceline' which was close by. I found all I wanted easily at the 'Big Chemist' and the price seemed good so with my basket loaded with a tub of Glucosamine, some CoQ10, Ethical Nutrients liquid fish oil and Gord's stuff, we went to pay. The young lady serving me had a name tag 'Ghani' and my curiosity roused as she did not look at all of ethnic background as I would expect if I came across a name I had not heard before in my nearly 63 years.
"That's an interesting name."
"Yes, it's Arabic, my mother got it from a book she liked. 'Dunes', by Frank Herbert, there was a series of about six."
"I haven't come across them, although I am a keen reader."
"They're science fiction, they were popular when I was born."
"I'm not into science fiction, but I'll look out for them. You must have an interesting mum."
"Yeah, she's a physicist."
"What does your dad do?"
"He's an electrical engineer, but they're both unemployed at the moment. I didn't get any of those science genes."
"My son has an honours degree in biotechnology but can't get a job in that field. Science education is not necessarily the answer. People skills are important."
This charming lady Ghani was about my sons age, and as attractive as I found her myself, I could only think how lovely it would be if I had such a daughter in law. I envy my peers who have this, whose children have married and brought them new family.
We said a warm farewell. Ghani asked me my name, which I took as a compliment. I told her I was not from around here and was unlikely to come back, but it was a pleasure meeting her. She was one of those people that we all meet from time to time who have an impact on you. Just some chemistry.
From there we found another food court, pretty much deserted at that hour, and I found a nice quiet corner to catch a nap while Gord checked out JB HI FI and some other. Gord found me at eleven and had a salad rap but I was not yet hungry and passed. We walked back to Skoda, the car was not ready, I had another nap on the lounge suite till they called us.
There was no charge, but they could not source the part locally, they have ordered it from Germany it will take three weeks, they'll call us, we'll have to come back to have it fitted no charge. They had sealed the old broken elbow they said, it should be OK till the new part comes in. I was not concerned. At least eventually, it would have a happy ending. Another day off, another little holiday.
I picked up some bulk honey at Dingley on our way home, then went to Fountain Gate where i had a lamb burger for lunch and a haircut. It was a Sri Lankan lady that cut my hair. She was very nice and had a lovely smile, all teeth.
So the dreaded trip to Frankston turned out to be a great day. In Narre Warren a large paunchy young fellow walked past wearing a T shirt that read, " Fuck you, I'm from Frankston." It did not offend me. I realized that, having just spent a morning there, the problem was with him, not Frankston.
I look forward to going back to get the the Skoda washers fixed. One thing's for sure, I'll be going to see Ghani.
By this time we knew what the problem was. A broken plastic elbow at the base of the windscreen washer bottle. The previous week in an attempt to avoid a day wasted going to Frankston I jacked the car up and took off the front right wheel and the panel lining the wheel area and the engine and found the broken elbow. I glued it (which didn't work, I found out later), and put it back and the panel and the wheel having wasted two hours but at least I knew what the problem was. I had hoped it might be as simple as a loose hose. I rang them at Skoda Frankston and told them what the problem was in the hope they would get the necessary part in before we went there, to avoid wasting a day going down there to be told what I already knew, and that we we would have to come back when they got the part. The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (Robert Burns 1785 Steinbeck 1937).
The service people were polite and suggested we wait in the lounge, which we did, while the mechanics, who start work at 8am, examined the car and would give us an estimate on how long it would take. We discovered when booking the car in and providing them with the VIN that there had been a recall on that model and they would look into that too when we brought it down, to see if our vehicle had had the defect fixed. I sat in the plush lounge suite and read a Wheels Mag for ten minutes before falling into a blissful warm sleep (having an erotic dream) before being woken by the service clerk to tell me the car would take 2.5 hours, would we like a lift into town, and they could pick us up again later.
"How far is it?" I asked, to be told it was 5 or 10 minutes walk.
"No we'll walk," I replied. "We'll walk back about lunchtime."
"That'd be good, it will definitely ready by then," he said.
It was warm already at about 8.30 when we set out. The joint at the base of my big toe had been giving me buggery for a few days, to do with the RA, but walking slowly was not too bad although I limped to keep the pain minimal.We had a cooler bag and waterbottles and I was feeling strangely relaxed and pleasant. It was a day off for me, and here we were exploring what seemed like Car City. In my imagination I was in a foreign land, so different was it to my usual environment. We went past Suzuki, Kia and Mitsubishi dealerships, various mechanical repair shops, tyre fitting places, car upholstery, brake specialists. None of these were open as it was before 9, the street had litter everywhere, there was a railway line on the other side of the road. The grass in the nature strip was brown and what plants were in front of businesses were stunted and usually damaged and misshapen. It was real grungeville. A guy in a hurry passed us, he had short hair and a tattooed scalp I could plainly see as he went past, and various rings in his face and ears, otherwise we walked almost with the footpath to ourselves except for an Asian couple I suggested we follow as I reckoned they'd be going to the mall or shopping precinct.
The Asians turned at a corner where there was a big motor bike shop which advertised 'Harley rides on the Bayside'. Behind it was a tattoo shop, then a pawnbroker. We continued down to the Bayside Mall which was quiet and almost empty at the early hour. Shop keepers were arriving. We found a food court that had a 'Healthy Habits' eatery open and we indulged in a not so healthy egg and bacon roll and coffee. It was lovely having nothing pressing to do. As the people numbers increased I watched them walk by and noted their clothing. All shapes and sizes and ages. There were a lot of security people, most of whom looked like they could not secure nor stop anything but they had walkie talkies so I guess they would quickly have numerical advantage for most eventualities.
I was most impressed watching the two ladies working in the 'Healthy Habits'. They were pleasant when they served us and worked diligently when there were no customers preparing rolls carefully and arranging them for display with real purpose. It was early in the day but I thought how hard it would be working there all day on your feet dealing with food and people and then having to clean up. It looked like a franchise type shop, I don't know if one or both were owners or employees but I could feel nothing but admiration for them. This feeling extended to other employees in this mall and shops. It would not be easy working all day in this enclosed environment. There was a general good feeling about the whole place and the people working and shopping there. People getting on with their lives the best they could with no sign of disharmony. In fact there was a friendliness exuding that surprised me. I did not expect to find this at a mall in Frankston.
I wanted a hair cut, and to shop at Chemist Warehouse type place, these were two other objectives of mine for the day. There was a 'Big Chemist' in the mall so we headed there first thinking we'd check prices there and compare with 'Priceline' which was close by. I found all I wanted easily at the 'Big Chemist' and the price seemed good so with my basket loaded with a tub of Glucosamine, some CoQ10, Ethical Nutrients liquid fish oil and Gord's stuff, we went to pay. The young lady serving me had a name tag 'Ghani' and my curiosity roused as she did not look at all of ethnic background as I would expect if I came across a name I had not heard before in my nearly 63 years.
"That's an interesting name."
"Yes, it's Arabic, my mother got it from a book she liked. 'Dunes', by Frank Herbert, there was a series of about six."
"I haven't come across them, although I am a keen reader."
"They're science fiction, they were popular when I was born."
"I'm not into science fiction, but I'll look out for them. You must have an interesting mum."
"Yeah, she's a physicist."
"What does your dad do?"
"He's an electrical engineer, but they're both unemployed at the moment. I didn't get any of those science genes."
"My son has an honours degree in biotechnology but can't get a job in that field. Science education is not necessarily the answer. People skills are important."
This charming lady Ghani was about my sons age, and as attractive as I found her myself, I could only think how lovely it would be if I had such a daughter in law. I envy my peers who have this, whose children have married and brought them new family.
We said a warm farewell. Ghani asked me my name, which I took as a compliment. I told her I was not from around here and was unlikely to come back, but it was a pleasure meeting her. She was one of those people that we all meet from time to time who have an impact on you. Just some chemistry.
From there we found another food court, pretty much deserted at that hour, and I found a nice quiet corner to catch a nap while Gord checked out JB HI FI and some other. Gord found me at eleven and had a salad rap but I was not yet hungry and passed. We walked back to Skoda, the car was not ready, I had another nap on the lounge suite till they called us.
There was no charge, but they could not source the part locally, they have ordered it from Germany it will take three weeks, they'll call us, we'll have to come back to have it fitted no charge. They had sealed the old broken elbow they said, it should be OK till the new part comes in. I was not concerned. At least eventually, it would have a happy ending. Another day off, another little holiday.
I picked up some bulk honey at Dingley on our way home, then went to Fountain Gate where i had a lamb burger for lunch and a haircut. It was a Sri Lankan lady that cut my hair. She was very nice and had a lovely smile, all teeth.
So the dreaded trip to Frankston turned out to be a great day. In Narre Warren a large paunchy young fellow walked past wearing a T shirt that read, " Fuck you, I'm from Frankston." It did not offend me. I realized that, having just spent a morning there, the problem was with him, not Frankston.
I look forward to going back to get the the Skoda washers fixed. One thing's for sure, I'll be going to see Ghani.
Sunday, February 01, 2015
The Roomster
Yesterday, Saturday,31 Jan, Gord and I, accompanied by Pip who rode behind the cargo barrier in Lib's Hyundai, set out on our mission to Tullamarine to inspect a vehicle with a view to purchasing. Lib went to work in Ian's Subaru so that we could take her car better suited to travelling with Pip, as she's confined to the rear and cannot come through and want to sit on my lap which is a distraction.
We met Rob at the MacDonald's on the corner of Wellington and Springvale Roads then picked up the Monash and found our destination easily in an industrial complex not far from Melrose Dve which runs off the freeway. Parkhill Consultants Pty Ltd is the name of company we were meeting, and we looked around the car park to see the 2012 Skoda Roomstar we had travelled to inspect, but no sign of 'John', whom we had talked to on the phone to arrange the appointment. Gord had come across the Roomstar on the internet while researching Skodas as a possible suitable vehicle for him.
Gord sold his Mazda 2 about a month ago to Jod. The Mazda is a little beauty, a 2011 model that Gord bought new and has only done 25.000km. Jod needed a car because his Suzuki Sierra, which I bought new in 1990, needed considerable repairs in the end to keep it running and roadworthy and it was not worth it. Jod gave it to the mechanic who had helped him, and it is still is use as a farm vehicle, a 4x4 motorised wheelbarrow if you like, on the mechanics father's farm.
When his Suzuki was no longer viable as road transport, we loaned Jod Ian's Subaru Forester as a temporary solution till he found another car. Ian approved, happy to help. As he lives in Canada he's pleased we use his car now and again, to keep it in good running order. Gord uses it mostly, as he has a sentimental bent, and he takes it if going to a mall where he was not comfortable leaving his Mazda, as it was damaged once by unknown other vehicle in the car park. It cost him about $1000 to repair. It's a sad fact of life most of us can relate to, the dings and scratches that happen to your car in parking lots while we shop. Also the Subaru is bigger than the Mazda and Gord uses it to take his whipper to the repairman or purchase something large. Just to round off this explanation, the Subaru we purchased in 1998 and Ian bought it from us sight unseen in 2010, when we were about to trade it in to buy our current Hyundai. He was coming to Australia for three months with his son and thought he'd buy a car and sell it when he left. He drove the Subie to Qld and WA but left it with us and returned in 2013 with his other son and used it again. He plans to return in 2016 and use it again. Jod wanted to buy it but Ian did not want that, so we have had this vehicle shuffle, with Gord happy to help Jod out by selling him the Mazda, and look around for something with a little more carrying capacity.
Which is how we found ourselves in Tullamarine yesterday shortly before the appointed noon meeting time.
A man approached after a while and introduced himself as Saintjean. He said that over the phone he just calls himself John as he's tired of explaining every time how his name is spelt, and where the St. comes from. Apparently his grandmother was French. He gave us the keys and said "take it for a drive" which we did. We all liked the feel of it- good firm ride, punchy turbo petrol 1.2 litre engine, 5 speed manual. The car itself is a little odd in its design- small front side windows and windscreen, while the back windows are large and the feeling is roomy. It apparently was designed by two different people in front and back halves which were joined together. Definitely a quirky car, but as the back seats are easily removed it is quickly converted to a small panel van which is what Gord was looking for.
Returning to the factory site we decided yes we'd buy the car. That is Gord would buy the car, Rob and I supported his decision. The asking price was $15000 plus stamp duty transfer fee about another $660 all up. St.John quickly said he'd take $15000 flat when we pointed out that the rego expired on 20 Feb. So we went upstairs and did the paper work and handed over the $13000 bank cheque and $2000 cash and came home. Rob followed me in the the Skoda, Gord not being confident driving across the city in unfamiliar territory.
Unfortunately when we got home Gord could not get the windscreen washers to work. He put more water in but it leaked out the bottom to a puddle underneath the car. There's no way to get at the water bottle reservoir to see if it has a leak or if a hose loose or disconnected. You can't even get to it from underneath, it's completely sealed off. I rang St. John, he really didn't want to know, but said I should take it to Skoda as the car still has new car warranty, or if they were difficult he'd get the mechanics in the factory next to him to fix it, if I brought it back.
The nearest Skoda dealer is in Frankston, and I loathe the thought of another trip to Tullamarine. Either will cost me a day. It may be cheaper getting the local bloke to fix it at our cost than driving about wasting time to have it done at no cost out of pocket.
There's always a risk, when purchasing anything. Let's hope we get over this without anymore surprises.
We met Rob at the MacDonald's on the corner of Wellington and Springvale Roads then picked up the Monash and found our destination easily in an industrial complex not far from Melrose Dve which runs off the freeway. Parkhill Consultants Pty Ltd is the name of company we were meeting, and we looked around the car park to see the 2012 Skoda Roomstar we had travelled to inspect, but no sign of 'John', whom we had talked to on the phone to arrange the appointment. Gord had come across the Roomstar on the internet while researching Skodas as a possible suitable vehicle for him.
Gord sold his Mazda 2 about a month ago to Jod. The Mazda is a little beauty, a 2011 model that Gord bought new and has only done 25.000km. Jod needed a car because his Suzuki Sierra, which I bought new in 1990, needed considerable repairs in the end to keep it running and roadworthy and it was not worth it. Jod gave it to the mechanic who had helped him, and it is still is use as a farm vehicle, a 4x4 motorised wheelbarrow if you like, on the mechanics father's farm.
When his Suzuki was no longer viable as road transport, we loaned Jod Ian's Subaru Forester as a temporary solution till he found another car. Ian approved, happy to help. As he lives in Canada he's pleased we use his car now and again, to keep it in good running order. Gord uses it mostly, as he has a sentimental bent, and he takes it if going to a mall where he was not comfortable leaving his Mazda, as it was damaged once by unknown other vehicle in the car park. It cost him about $1000 to repair. It's a sad fact of life most of us can relate to, the dings and scratches that happen to your car in parking lots while we shop. Also the Subaru is bigger than the Mazda and Gord uses it to take his whipper to the repairman or purchase something large. Just to round off this explanation, the Subaru we purchased in 1998 and Ian bought it from us sight unseen in 2010, when we were about to trade it in to buy our current Hyundai. He was coming to Australia for three months with his son and thought he'd buy a car and sell it when he left. He drove the Subie to Qld and WA but left it with us and returned in 2013 with his other son and used it again. He plans to return in 2016 and use it again. Jod wanted to buy it but Ian did not want that, so we have had this vehicle shuffle, with Gord happy to help Jod out by selling him the Mazda, and look around for something with a little more carrying capacity.
Which is how we found ourselves in Tullamarine yesterday shortly before the appointed noon meeting time.
A man approached after a while and introduced himself as Saintjean. He said that over the phone he just calls himself John as he's tired of explaining every time how his name is spelt, and where the St. comes from. Apparently his grandmother was French. He gave us the keys and said "take it for a drive" which we did. We all liked the feel of it- good firm ride, punchy turbo petrol 1.2 litre engine, 5 speed manual. The car itself is a little odd in its design- small front side windows and windscreen, while the back windows are large and the feeling is roomy. It apparently was designed by two different people in front and back halves which were joined together. Definitely a quirky car, but as the back seats are easily removed it is quickly converted to a small panel van which is what Gord was looking for.
Returning to the factory site we decided yes we'd buy the car. That is Gord would buy the car, Rob and I supported his decision. The asking price was $15000 plus stamp duty transfer fee about another $660 all up. St.John quickly said he'd take $15000 flat when we pointed out that the rego expired on 20 Feb. So we went upstairs and did the paper work and handed over the $13000 bank cheque and $2000 cash and came home. Rob followed me in the the Skoda, Gord not being confident driving across the city in unfamiliar territory.
Unfortunately when we got home Gord could not get the windscreen washers to work. He put more water in but it leaked out the bottom to a puddle underneath the car. There's no way to get at the water bottle reservoir to see if it has a leak or if a hose loose or disconnected. You can't even get to it from underneath, it's completely sealed off. I rang St. John, he really didn't want to know, but said I should take it to Skoda as the car still has new car warranty, or if they were difficult he'd get the mechanics in the factory next to him to fix it, if I brought it back.
The nearest Skoda dealer is in Frankston, and I loathe the thought of another trip to Tullamarine. Either will cost me a day. It may be cheaper getting the local bloke to fix it at our cost than driving about wasting time to have it done at no cost out of pocket.
There's always a risk, when purchasing anything. Let's hope we get over this without anymore surprises.
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