Club Arnage

Obviously the UK is pretty widely accepted as the home and cradle of motorsport technology and skill. Just listen to all the English accents in the pits at LM, and have a look and see where most of the worlds F1, CART, sportscars and so on are built. It makes a man feel proud and provides a glow in his trousers, very welcome this time of year. I was reminded of this illustrious inheritance only just last Friday, when I needed to purchase a tyre for my car at the local tyre and exhaust centre, a place I romantically believe to be a hotbed of spanner talent and genetically connected to those legendary names that echo around Goodwood and Brooklands:

H - Hello, I'd like you to give me a quotation and stock availability check on a tyre please.
KF - Certainly Sir, this is Darren speaking, sniff, how can I help you?
H - Like I say, could you give me a quote, please.
KF - No worries, what size is it?
H - It's a Dunlop Grand Trek 255/75 R15 110S
KF - Cool. Are there any numbers with that?
H - Numbers?
KF - Yeah, cheers mate, y'know, after, like, the name.
H - Well yes! 255/75 R15 110S. Fancy that.
KF - right 255/75 R15 110S (shouting into what I assume is the pristine, sterile, clinically clean neon world of the office or workshop) Oi! Mike! Dunlop Grand Trek, who makes them then?
H - What!!
M - Dunno!
(There's then a burst of sound over the receiver of what sounds like a cross between a scaffolding tower collapsing and a massacre in a shopping mall involving a disgruntled postal worker)
KF - Goodyear innit?
H - If you can hear me, may I suggest that it could be Dunlop?
M - Try the catalogue mate, or ask Velroy.
H - (off phone) oh f*ck me!
Co-worker - Really! I do not wish to hear that language, pullease!!
KF - I'ts in the book! Dunlop do one!! Large, mate. I need to know if there's a number after the size y'know, like have you got a number?
H - 110S...
KF - That's it! You alright Mike?
(there is the sound of what may be an angle grinder and live pig in the background now)
H - Perhaps you may be able to give me an idea of price?
- this gets a bit tedious now, anyway after a bit of haggling, and an explanation of VAT, I place an order.

The next morning, I poodle down there to find, and I know you're ahead of me here, a tyre reserved for me whose only resemblance to the one I ordered is the colour...
BRM eat your heart out.
H

As the ad says H, 'You can't get better than a kwik fit fitter' or is it a crap fit fitter. Reminds me of the time when I dropped a puncture of in the morning and returned in the evening and they had'nt had time to do it but one of the lads had spent all day painting the floor. As the saying goes 'They might be crap but they're sh*t'

Relax H, the UK is not the sole domain of ineptitude. Forgive me for relating a similar escapade with FL's very own Action Gator Tire Co.
MH - you had my car in earlier today to fix a front puncture...
AGT - Sure did, man, that car needs new tires!
MH - Yes I know - can I get a quote for direct replacement of all 4 tires
AGT - Oh, sure! I got a special deal on Falkens right now...
MH- No, no... see, I need a DIRECT replacement price for the Goodyears
AGT - How about BFG's?
MH - No! I need the Goodyear run-flats that are on it now.
AGT - They ain't run-flats on your car, sir.
MH - Yes they are - Goodyear EMT Eagles - original tires - they came on it new.
AGT - Oh shoot, we ain't supposed to repair EMT's
MH - Why not?
AGT - Voids the wuh-haren-tee.
MH - But you just told me the tires were shot anyway
AGT - Um, yessir - we put too much air in that tire also
MH - Don't worry about that - I'll sort it out. Can I just have your best price to replace all four tires please?
AGT - Do you want the Falkens or the BFG's?
MH - Goodbye.......
AGT -

Oh Lordy, it's time to bite on that bullet.
Maybe the b*stards do it on purpose, like Yossarians efforts to drive the chaplain crazy. Maybe, when we leave staggering from the premises, with our heads reeling and a previously sound belief in logic, communication and Darwin shot to pieces and rattling around in the lobe marked "Junk" they go off to the tea room round the back to discuss string theory and finish that review off for 'Big Bang Monthly'. How else could we have won the War?
H

If only it were true, but alas - and at serious risk of coming to blows with any tyre-fitters we have amongst our exhalted throng, they are a bunch of neanderthal, knuckle-dragging morons with brains the size of California raisins and possesing similar processing power.
I have never, ever had a happy experience at a tyre outlet either in England or USA. They are a sub-species all to themselves. c**ts, the lot of 'em.

LMFHO  ;D ;D ;D

Shame this but i supose we can all relate to this at some time or other  ::)

I too had some experience as described above. Again a wonderfull colorfull story directly out of life. I need a new coffee now, the other one is spilled right over the keyboard.  ;D ;D ;D

I know a good mechanics here in Le Mans who seems to be more efficient than yours  :P

Able to work on french cars (Espace, Peugeot,...) but also really keen on exotica (Makda, 4WD, MG B,...)

About 10 years ago I took my wifes Truimph Spitfire to that tyre and exhaust place that are supposed to be Quick in Fitting - know what I mean.

The Spitfire has a cast manifold with a flange, connecting to a two branch downpipe.  This flange is a bit of a sod for leaking, but, if the job is done correctly, isn't a problem.

Any road up, the YTS monkey set to on the exhaust replacement, the old system came off no probs (thanks to the gas axe) and then on with the new.

He managed to loose the UNF fine thread brass downpipe nuts on the floor somewhere so, unbeknown to me, used steel metric course nuts / nylocs and an air wrench set on max, to refit the flange.............and sheared the f**k*ng studs.

So he then attempted to remove the broken studs and fit a bolt - which seemed to do the job of sealing the flange.  I came along to collect the car, was told nothing of this, and tootled off down the road.......and the new f**k*ng downpipe dropped off.

I had to have the car recovered to my house, I inspected the "job", was stratospheric with rage, phoned the company and wrote to the MD.

I received an apology / offer of repair / replacement / refund etc. but decided to do the job myself as my trust in these so-called 'specialist' companies had finally been washed down the toilet.

This national company prides itself on it's 'quality' - you know the jingle...........but why do they employ school drop outs and inbeciles to uphold their quality.


H, theres a cople of good online tyre company we use who are good on price and have a good range of tyres, you just need to have them fitted by your local monkey shop.
http://www.mytyres.co.uk/ (http://www.mytyres.co.uk/)
or http://www.e-tyres.co.uk/ (http://www.e-tyres.co.uk/)

Thanks Steve, too late though. I'm now the proud owner of two new front tyres. The colour is just right, and the way my vision blurs, fillings fall out and wrist bones rattle when I approach 30 mph is just great. Items on the dash develop the St. Vitus Dance. Chuck Yeager must have felt like this when he approached Mach 1 for the first time. I love it, it makes a trip to the High Street seem like another sortie from Edwards Air Force Base in a prototype.
H

On holiday in Yorkshire last year, my disc pads wore out.  Usual grinding noises  ???  Anyway I found a local Tyre, Exhaust and Brake place, who happily said they could do it, but the pads would have to be ordered in because my car is an import.  (I live with this all the time  ::) )  Two days later I'm back there, and this young lad sets to with gusto.  Total bas**rd of a job with siezed up retaining pins etc.  He worked like a trojan, and got the calipers off, only to find one piston on each side was seized.  So he gets the boss to order up two new ones for immediate delivery, and an hour later they arrive (The lad had knowlegebly said that mine were the same as the UK version). Sadly he was wrong by a couple of very important thou!  We scratched out heads, and I suggested that he might free up the pistons by careful use of the vice, and a very long screwdriver.  He wasn't keen to wreck my calipers, but I was desperate, and he was doing well so far.  He suceeded in freeing them off, and got the whole lot re-fitted in good order. :)  So he then buggers off on a test drive, and I waited............and I waited........and I waited.  When I asked one of his mates where he'd gone, he said "He's fallen in love that thing of yours, mate, he might be a while"  I didn't know how to take this, so I had a fag, and said a prayer.  10 mins later he rolls up with a smile on his face, and says everything was fine.  He'd only gone and taken it to a mates garage, and put it on the rolling road to make sure the 'renovated' calipers were OK!!!  Bl**dy hel* I thought this kid is dedicated.  He must have spent 5 hours doing a half hour job, and never complained.  I didn't get charged anything extra, and I gave the lad a £10 tip.  he bloody deserved it.

There are some decent ones out there  :D

Arrhh, these are for your Hummer!
Are you entering the Paris - Dakar again?

I suggest you try to stay on the black stuff down the middle of the road  with the white lines on and keep off the pavements.

The rattling you are expreriencing is the walking sticks of the little old ladies tapping against the wings as they ricochet off the running boards.

This guy must work at a Tyre and Exhaust shop.

Gibbo, I don't believe you. Had you been drinking? I suppose it's unfair to turn this into a 'slag off the tyre fitters' thread, even if there is a warning written on the step into our local fitting shop "Please mind your knuckles"

If this lubed up urchin did indeed exist, then his days are surely numbered, he'll get bored very quickly and either release nerve gas in the underground or move on, and therein lies the problem.

Shifting slightly, this reminds me of The Most Boring Job I Ever Had. Let me know if this becomes The Most Boring Post You've ever Read. Anyway....

As a youngster I got a summer job working in a bakery. I was shown a guage on the side of a wall, and it was my job to watch it (this is before PC's and stuff were around that could do it automatically). If the needle moved outside of two marks, then I had to give the foreman a shout. Within two minutes I was an expert. After two hours first break came round, and off I went, eyes watering, for a bit of scran in the canteen.
I'd done some serious staring, not much blinking, and it took a few minutes to get my eyeballs at least most of the way back into my head, I'd sussed it was a tough job, but reckoned I was up to it. In conversation with my new workmates I learnt that the needle had never ever moved, at least not in their lifetimes. No one really seemed sure what it was the guage was measuring anyway.
I did this for six weeks, working 6 nights a week, and I can tell you that the things that go through your head are scary. My mates thought I was on drugs, I'd started to stare at everything. A trip to the Gents in the pub had to be timed carefully or things could get ugly. No one ever told me, but I'm sure I'd started to drool as well, that's the only way I could explain slowly expanding damp patches on my shirt front wherever I went.
All in all, I was glad when it finished.
The smell of fresh bread still strikes the fear of God into me and my eyebrows start doing a little dance.
H

Aah! Jobs at bakeries. Hmmm, a veritable feast of tales available. During the heady heights of my 6th form education, spent most Saturdays and school hols working at RHM Foods (Mother's Pride etc.) in Erith, Kent.

My God!! Some of the sights I witnessed when the plant was producing almost put me off eating mass produced loaves for life. Not to mention airlines hooked up to the orange juice machines! What a hoot!

We were employed to clean the machinery at weekends and needless to say. As a late-teenager raging with hormones, we had more important things on our minds (like Le Mans of course - what did you think I meant?), so actual cleaning of the equipment wasn't quite as effective as it should have been. Remember being close to getting the sack (from my £6 for a whole day's graft "job") when a customer found half a piece of "Scotchbrite" in her cake. The only thing that saved me is they couldn't pinpoint which one of two machines it had come from.

Oh how we laughed!

Here below a letter I sent just last week to the robbing bastards at Gatwick Subaru. I used to have a Honda and it was an absolute pleasure to deal with the dealer in Crawley. But these people really take the biscuit, permanently trying to stitch up their customers. They charge £67.50 per hour plus VAT for a grunting spotty teenager, who resembles and smells like a badly shaved oran-utang, to change the oil and filter and prod a few bits and bobs with an old screwdriver.

Anyway, they tucked me up like a kipper last year on the 10,000 miler, so I took my own oil rather than pay the £48.00 plus VAT per gallon they charge for Castrol GTX. IE, they charged me £20 for two Rust Proof Stamps. I asked what had happened to the old ones, had they dropped of the bottom of the car? Oh no Sir, these are the stamps we put in your service book to show the Corrision Inspection has been carried out. I open the book to see two stickers sized 1 inch x 1/2 inch that just said "Subaru" on them. Nothing else, no code, hologram, nothing. £20 for christ's sake!!! And why two of the buggers?

Anyway I was ready for them this time, I just knew this would happen:

Gatwick Subaru
X
X
X


26 February 2004
 


Dear Sirs,

Subaru Impreza WRX GX52 xxx
Invoice Noxxxxx

I refer to the invoice posted last week in respect of the 20,000 mile service carried out on 17 February.

I have the following queries:

• Can you please explain why I have been invoiced for 2.2 hours of labour when the vehicle was only in your possession for exactly 1.5 hours? This is taken from the time I dropped the keys over the counter until the time your member of staff called me to tell me the vehicle was ready for collection. I was by that time sitting in your reception area waving at him from behind the coffee machine. Unless there was a tremor in the space/time continum, and of which I was unaware, I assume the extra time invoiced must be a clerical error.
 
• I was somewhat surprised to note that you had been able use 1 x unit of screen wash @ £1.92 per unit plus VAT. The reason for my surprise is that that very morning I had personally topped up the washer bottle to the point that it would have not been possible to get so much as a further teaspoonful of washer fluid in there. I wonder therefore if you could explain to me this apparent discrepancy.

• When checking the screen wash, I was similarly careful to check the level of other under bonnet fluids and they were all on or at maximum capacity. I was therefore unable to understand how you were able to use a unit of brake fluid. Reference is made in the invoice to the cleaning and adjustment of the brakes, but unless they have been bled (which is not on the invoice) I do not see how this amount of fluid could have been used. Incidentally, what constitutes 1 unit? At £10.98 plus VAT per unit, it must be very special brake fluid indeed.

• I am unsure as to what is a “Pitstop OL”. I’m sure it’s vital, and you’ve used 1 x unit of it, but can you please let me know what it is, because I'm losing sleep about it.

Upon receipt of your revised invoice and explanations I will be happy to pay for the work by return. Having said the above, your increasingly imaginative attempts at fleecing your customers never fails to amaze and amuse.

I look forward to hearing from you as soon as possible.

Yours truly,


Andrew Zarse
Director



So there you have it. I'll let you know their response.

PS Guys, nyone know what a Pitstop OL is? I reckon it's that bit of a broken plastic you always find they've left in the ashtray, and whose origin and purpose is know only to a selct few.

Wotcher Andy,
Well, the best of luck, but I think we know what the outcome will be, main dealers are kipper stitchers extraordinaire.
I guess it's fair to say you're not one of the many that puts Subaru up there in the JD customer satisfaction surveys every year then.
Hands up any one who has left a main dealer, after shelling out his own hard-earned, thinking "my, what wonderful service, and a bargain too, I wonder how they can do it for that price, I must return here sharpish"
H

I think you've read it wrong Andy. It's obviously a reference to the fact that your car was seviced over the pits by Topol, that well know grizzled Czech hambone of an actor. Who can forget his performance in Fiddler on the Roof? How the mighty have fallen eh, if you'd been in the workshop instead of reception you'd have seen him hammering in your spark plugs with his battered old Oscar.

There's a joke in there, somewhere between 'battered old Oscar' and 'underbonnet fluids', but I think i've popped my rectum again, and I better be off....
H

Thanks for the advice H, I never looked at it like that. Now you mention it, I thought I heard the MD of the dealership, a rather portly and swarthy looking foreign gentleman, whistling "If I was a rich man". Fiddler on the Hoof more like. The bastard.

However, I can't help feeling you wouldn't be being so pleasant if you'd seen what i had posted here:

http://www.clubarnage.com/yabbse/index.php?board=4;action=display;threadid=1413;start=15

Sorry for letting the cat out the bag.

Zarse, you're incorrigible. Or is it corrugated.
Our whole party in the public domain. I mean, really.
You have to admit though, some of them are pretty damn cute. Apart from our pimp that is, I'm sure it's Geoffrey Dahmer.
Co-incidentally, I was in a ladies afro wig specialist on Walthamstow High Street on Saturday night, I picked up a lovely little number with mid length ringlets for £20. The asking price was £25, so we reckoned it was a bit of a bargain, human hair and all. It looked lovely on the tube.
H

 :o

Thought you were supposed to wear them on your head ... unless it's THAT sort of wig!!!

Well, I didn't bring up merkins!

Thanks for the lookalike Andy - however if you really want to see what I look like as a girl, below is a photo taken of me at 17 (a few weeks after my first LM - there's as tory in there, more of that in a mo'). This picture appeared in my local rag back then to highlight the 250 miles I'd cycled over 3 days for the local hospital. This caused my Maths teacher and her husband to have a furious row apparently as he staunchly refused to believe that the photo was of a young man!

As for the story of looking like this at LM, anyone who was there in 1981 will remember it for there not being a cloud in sight all weekend (v. similar to 2000). By Sunday I was bollocksed and taking a well deserved nap in the wooded area down by the Esses. Shirt was a buttoned affair and this was undone to reveal my chest (no man-tits in those days, I was a skinny fecker) and I awoke to 2 dirty old bastards trying to get a glimpse down my top!!

 ;D

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My Lord! I do believe I have an erection!
H

H, do you have an Elswick Chopper?Remember them they weighed in at about half a ton, not built for speed.

Sorry H, it's all true  :o  As for drinking.......well I did discover a nice local brewery, but that's another story  ;)

Rick, that looks uncannily like me circa the same era. I was still at school then, and I had the obligatory lank hair and centre pating. Actually, I still do have the parting, it's just that its about four inches wider these days....

H, I think I need some sort of Afro wig too, although I would choose to wear it on me bonce and not on my tube. Walthamstow you say? Is that the shop next to the International House of Merkins?

Brian, I thought Elswick Chopper is a genito-urinary disease. Indeed one of our crew has recently had a dose of it due to "overuse".  Chris, whose face looks like a Japanese helicopter pilot, has taken the art of self manipulation to a whole new level. His devotion to the practice is such that he is lobbying the IOC to have it included as an Olympic sport. A Gold for GB in the bag if they agree. And people wonder why the Queen wears gloves when dishing out the gongs to sucessful sportsmen.

I never noticed it, but there may have been a small department round the back, as it were. It was next to a fruit stall/shop which appeared to sell only melons. After embarrasing ourselves with some Latvian women in an extremely rough pub watching the rugby, the melon stall proved a good hiding place.

See, I tried to start off a nice little thread where we could discuss motorsport talent in the UK, and within no time at all it's moved on to Latvian women, melons and the Queens attitudes toward bodily fluids.
H

It always seems to go like that.  It's like life really.  You try to be serious, but it doesn't work, so you get drunk.  You try to get a tyre changed, and end up becoming an expert on pre-cambrian neanderthals.  Makes sense when you think of it.

Or maybe not.