Saturday, 7 July 2012

Driving Miss Daisy

A couple of weeks ago my landlord/ friend/ surrogate-father-figure/ sort-of-older-brother-type-person had an operation on his knee. [Sigh. It's no good, none of those labels really works or explains anything] 

This is not a good thing for anyone, but especially not good for someone like Mr C. 
Mr C. makes him sound like he is 90, when in fact he is very roughly half that. However, Mr C it is.

As a very active, busy person who runs his own construction company as well as being half of the duo that runs the smallholding I live on, it is tough for Mr C. to sit back and smell the roses. 
Mr C. does not do sitting back or smelling roses.

Anyway, as I am enjoying [cough] a period of 'funemployment' (goodness, I'm really beginning to hate that term with a passion), Mr C. decided that he would 'employ' me as a driver.


Now, it is not that I am not a good driver.
I am, thanks.
It is just that I drive an ancient automatic Mazda hatchback.
Mr C. drives a Land Rover. 
It is a manual.
And the gearbox is weird.

Now, I can drive a tractor ish and I have driven Land Rovers and Range Rovers before.
I have even been employed to drive golfers in a luxury Mercedes people carrier thing. My CV is fascinating.
But for some reason, my confidence has plummeted when driving Mr C. around in his own car.

I think it has got to the point that Mr C. is regretting his decision to give me something to do, especially as it is taking approximately 3 times longer than normal for him to get anywhere because I do not like going over 50 miles an hour.
And I can't park (in his car. I am very good at parking in my car).

It was also quite amusing to turn up to pick up some supplies [something to do with roof panels? Oh I don't know, they were grey and heavy and came in pairs. And they are to be put on a roof somewhere] and be the 'muscles'.
I am actually much stronger than I look. 
The man at the yard did not believe me and insisted on carrying most of the things to the car.
I look like a runner bean. 
Except I'm not green. Or bumpy. Much.

There really is no point to this story, except to show you what was hiding in the shed at the roofing supplies yard:

A vintage Massey Ferguson tractor!
Whatdoyoumean you're not excited?
What a beauty.
Trying to be subtle when taking a picture = not very successful photography attempt.
And, as long as I kept throwing his wood block, this little chap did not care if I looked like a bumpy runner bean with string instead of arms and pipe cleaners for legs, or that I kept putting the car into third instead of first and once accidentally put it into reverse whilst driving at full-speed.

So that was fun.
I will probably not become a chauffeur when I grow up.


Gesci said...

I want to chuckle and call you a farm nerd now. So I will. :)

bonbon said...

I totally feel you on the driving someone else's car- especially when they are in the car with you! So much pressure! And it's hard to get used to a car. Also, I LOLed at your story about your mom using a winky face in her text. Yes, there is something a bit strange about that isn't there? Just found your blog and have really enjoyed getting to know you better! I'm excited to follow along!

new follower :)