4 December 2015
Community Service Public Warning: Doing battle with
solid objects in parking stations is unlikely to end well and should be
avoided.
I
didn’t take too much notice of the crunching sound of my car’s bumper panel
scraping on the concrete bollard stopper thing at the end of the parking space
when I parked my car in the morning( I have heard this noise on more than one
occasion in the past – what could possibly be a problem?). On leaving in the
afternoon, it took me a couple of rounds of the parking station, descending the
levels, to work out that the rattly, scraping noises accompanying my descent really
required me to stop and investigate the source. Diagnosis, even for the
mechanically challenged, was obvious – a front bumper panel half detached and
dragging on the ground. Score: Me – 0, Concrete bollard stopper thing – 1.
Summoning
all my mechanical skills (read “non-existent”) I worked out that: 1. My car was
not driveable in this state 2. I needed
either to remove the offending panel (I couldn’t) or reaffix it to where it was
supposed to be (I couldn’t). Note to self – put stash of baling twine back into
boot (which I had, uncharacteristically and in contravention of almost every
other facet of my existence, cleaned out).
Summoning
all my problem-solving skills (read “level slightly above non-existent”) I
phoned the NRMA. On explaining the situation to the operator, she helpfully
suggested I get a tow truck. Summoning all my diplomatic skills (the levels are
dropping again here) I helpfully suggested that this sounded excessive, and
sending around a nice NRMA person might be more appropriate to the situation. After
the requisite hour of penance, the extremely nice NRMA man arrived. My initial
disappointment that he didn’t come complete with stashes of baling twine was
quickly replaced with gratitude when he produced his cache of cable ties. In my
defence, it seems this was not the first bumper-bar-in-car-park malfunction
that he had attended. Cable ties in place, I was able to drive home, with only
the occasional scraping-on-the-ground sound, and very cautious traversing of
those speed humps that I usually largely ignore in favour of a normal
acceleration rate.
Once
home I did add some baling twine to the cable tie arrangement, for extra
strength as well as aesthetic value. Though it was tempting to adopt this as a
permanent arrangement, good sense prevailed (for the first time in this saga),
and I phoned the insurance company. Three phone calls and a total of 2 hours on
hold resulted in a deep and abiding aversion to the jaunty whistling GIO theme
tune, interrupted at about 5 second intervals by the pleasant-sounding, but
increasingly annoying, assurances of the recorded voice, telling me that my
call would be answered by the first available operator….it would seem that GIO
has only one operator for the greater Asia-Pacific. The effect of this cruel
and unusual treatment is, I imagine, something akin to water torture, and had
me yearning for any alternative aural input, such as the call of the Wonga
pigeon.
The
good news is that my car is now ensconced at the car doctor being repaired. I
only hope they can tell that the current “paddock brown” colour of my car is
not the colour to which they should be matching the new bumper…. and if it
turns out that they wash the car, the $650 insurance excess will have been
money well spent (the previous wash coinciding somewhat coincidentally with the
last smash repair).
