What does an exhaust do?!

The majority of my blogs seem to be about my car troubles, and I am afraid this one will be no different.

This is probably to do with the fact that, as I have said before, my knowledge of the inner workings of cars is non existent.

I don't think my family were aware of the true extent of my ignorance, until early one Tuesday morning.

There was a problem with the exhaust, which resulted in me sounding like a teenage boy racer cruising around in a souped up car.

In typical Laura fashion I decided to leave it for a few days, when I was free to take it to the nice man at the garage.

However, this backfired, literally, and I was left stranded on the hard shoulder of the M5 after an almighty bang caused me to pull over.

So what does this damsel in distress do in her time of need? Call Daddy, or as he is better known in this blog, the car oracle.

On the phone he asked if the exhaust was scraping along the road.

Now, how many of us actually know what an exhaust does? Surely I am not alone in my complete and utter ignorance?

Walking round to the back of the car I saw that the exhaust sticking out the back was fine, and was nowhere near the road.

On reporting my findings I was greeted by a puzzled silence from the car oracle, who asked me to check again that nothing was hanging down on the road.

He then told me to slowly leave the motorway at the next junction and come home.

So I started off again, with my car making the same horrendous scraping noise, but it wasn't long before cars were flashing me to pull over.

I gave up, and after a second SOS call to the car oracle, he was on his way.

On arrival he knelt down to look under the car, and beckoned me over to see a metal pipe scraping the road.

Apparently this was the exhaust.

Now I am serious when I say this, I had no idea the exhaust runs under the car, from the back to the engine.

To me, cars go. I have no idea how, but they do!

After the car oracle had finished tutting at me in disbelief he tied the offending piece of metal up with string and we headed home at a leisurely 30 miles and hour.

This marked the start of a busy day for SuperMum, who spent her lunch break rushing from work to the garage to pick up my newly fixed car.

She too was in disbelief at my lack of car knowledge, and so was my boyfriend Joe when I recounted my sorry tale to him that night.

So I am off to have lessons in vehicle maintenance from the car oracle, so I will know what to do when the next disaster happens.

I will keep you posted!

Bye bye chocolate

I am always up for a challenge, and have done all sorts of crazy stunts like cage diving to see sharks, and a parachute jump. In comparison my latest challenge may seem easy. However, I think it will be one of the hardest things I have had to do. I, a self confessed chocoholic, have given the sweet treat up for lent.

For 40 long days I will not be allowed a single bite of chocolate. This means no more malteaser bunnies which are my latest obsession. It also means no more hot chocolate in the evenings, and I can wave goodbye to the chocolate cereal bars that help me start the day. It will be hard. I am sure I will start to get withdrawal symptoms, and have the shakes through the lack of chocolaty goodness. But I determined to do it. Mainly to prove people wrong, the people who laughed when I told them what I was doing.

Lent is a Christian tradition seen as a time of sacrifice. People give up a treat for 40 days to show respect for Jesus and to identify with his self deprivation during his 40 days in the wilderness. However many other people give something up to challenge themselves.

I have chosen to give up chocolate to mark lent, and to show that I can make sacrifices. Of course, this will mean changes to my daily routine. The chocolate and nut cereal bars I usually start my day with have been replaced with berry and yoghurt. I thought this would be a hardship, but actually they are quite tasty! In our office we have a lady who comes round with sandwiches, and snacks like crisps and chocolate. It was a struggle to stay sitting in my seat, and not lunge at her with my money. Instead, I had an orange. Didn’t really compare to a galaxy bar, but it’s healthier! My evening cup of hot chocolate will also have to go, to be replaced by either tea or squash. But in the words of Gloria Gaynor I will survive!

By the end of the 40 days I shall hopefully feel healthier, and stronger for sticking to my challenge. And there will be the added bonus of it being Easter. Those chocolate eggs will never have tasted better!

My DIY triumph

 

On Monday night I managed to fix screws in the door of the Sunshine radio studios using a pair of scissors, as I couldn’t find a screwdriver.
This small and pretty insignificant act made me feel unbelievably proud, as I considered it a victory over the DIY mountain I had never conquered.
The fact that I had narrowly escaped injury by diving out of the way of the metal tool box as I pulled it off the top shelf was forgotten.
I was a DIY genius!

To say that the art of Do It Yourself does not come naturally to me is a pretty big understatement.
A big part of DIY is coordination, which I seem to have been born without.
Add that to the fact that I also have no common sense and you have a recipe for disaster.

From the fairly common mistake of hitting my thumb with a hammer, to the more unusual act gluing my favourite top to the inside of a drawer I was trying to fix, I have done it all.

At school I was every Design Technology teachers nightmare.
I was always keen to have a go, which always came across in my reports ‘Laura tries everything, but sometimes I wish she wouldn’t!’
To this day I have never seen a teacher move so fast as my year nine DT teacher did when I attempted to use a big power drill.
Granted I had not put the safety guard on and the free standing drill was merrily spinning closer to my head, but I still feel she overreacted!
That incident marked the end of my freedom in class, and I was moved to the bench furthest away from all the interesting tools.

Fast forward a few years to University, when during my second year drama performance I was chosen to work on set design!
The sight off all the power tools lining up in the cupboard filled me with excitement.
However lecturers soon learnt the error of their ways after I managed to glue my hand to a table with a hot glue gun, take a chunk out of my finger with a hammer, and drill through a chair all in one week.
I was moved to painting, and banned from all contact with power tools.

Now I leave the DIY to my dad.
Actually, that is a lie, I am made to leave it to my dad.
He has banned me from entering his workshop without ‘adult’ supervision, and that is where all the tools are kept.

However, after my triumph I wonder if he will rethink his ban?
Somehow I very much doubt it!