Today at 2:30 i kick-off against the Old Beal’s for my football team. The last time i played them, was the last day that my car - a Rover 620ti - actually ‘ran’.

inline update: I just realised that the last time i played the Old Beals was 12th April. Today is the 11th October…exactly 6 months later. Life amuses me…

On that day, i think that i muddled up the KO time, and seeing as i had the unpredictable A406 North Circular road to traverse, and several other jam hotspots, i arrived about 5mins into the game.

I pulled in to the ground; switched off my engine; got my bags; jumped out of the car and started to jog towards the pitch when i heard the most incredible hissing sounds and saw steam pouring out from underneath the bonnet.

Being the true sportsman i am, i wanted to jump into the game, not mess about with my car, so i lifted the bonnet to have a quick check. I saw that there was a rubber hose that had split, spewing coolant on the engine block. Nothing too serious i thought, so i closed the bonnet and ran off to join the game; embarrassingly changing on the sidelines.

I can’t remember the score, but i remember there was an unnecessarily physical, tall defender, with a chip on his shoulder and a point to prove. I also remember i hit the crossbar. Apart from that, the game wasn’t to be the highlight of my day.

As i already mentioned i was in NE London, past Hainault in the type of area i usually refer to as ‘the sticks‘. *raises eyebrows and sighs* ANYway, back to my car.

After the game finished i had another look at the now car and decided to tape up the split in the tubing and drive down the road to a Halfords or something, where i could repair the problem. I exit the ground and turn right.

After a short journey - during which the insulating tape came off, rendering my car an embarrassing ball of steam - i reach a Tesco supermarket where i re-tape the hose and fill up the coolant tank with cold water, to at least slow the rising temperature gauge needle.

After asking for directions to the nearest car parts ‘place’ i make the most foolish and maybe costly mistake i had made for a long, long while. (This is assuming that taping up a hose on dry performance car and driving off into ‘the sticks’ doesn’t count as foolish.)

I exit Tesco, and instead of re-entering the dullness that is Hainault high-street, i turn left and decide ‘i should be able to make it’ to the Halfords on the North Circ. (I know…*hangs head in shame*…I know)

Just as i am pulling into a petrol station for another cool water refill (bear in mind that all this while, water keeps spewing out steaming up my car, windscreen and the local vicinity) the temperature gauge redlines and the car begins to behave as though it has stalled. I fill it up again with some cool H₂0 and after a very difficult restart, continue my - now very short - journey to Halfords.

I run in just as they are about to close, to there visible annoyance. But hey…it was an emergency. I buy the tubing i need, a screwdriver and a Stanley Knife and go out and easily fix the split tube on the car.

Again my journey restarts. I manage to travel about 2 1/2 miles when in a queue of traffic, that stalling feeling emerges again. This time however i am not cruising at a speed at which the car jump starts itself. Instead i stall on the North Circ - just before Wood Green and miles from home. Joy of joys!

Something that really pisses me off about people is that they will happily sit in their car, and watch little me struggle, trying to push my heavy beast of a car out of their way. A guy in a van stopped and helped me get it down into a conveniently placed side-road…where my car sat for a couple of days.

For the first time in a very long time, i caught the bus home. It wasn’t too bad though as i got to see a better view of ludicrously large and expensive mansions on The Bishops Avenue (or Millionaires Row as some call it. I think it is the road referred to in John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s “Give Peace a Chance”…which incidentally is the basis of the Nigeria football teams’ fans’ favourite chant: “All we are saying/Give us a goal”).

Optimistic me thought that maybe - defying all my logic, mechanical knowledge and common sense - the battery may have died. So that night i returned, Napa’s car at the ready, jump cables in hand…to no avail. I again re-visited my car with Bethel…we went back to the Halfords mentioned before to try and get a new dizzy cap. Still no luck.

So a couple of days later with my cousins help, i towed the car from Wood Green…one of the most harrowing experiences i had had for a while due to my cousins unnecessarily hard braking manoeuvres. I towed it to my mechanic in Harlesden, but when i went to see him the next day he wasn’t to enthusiastic to fix what i thought was a small problem.

nosa: So what do think the problem is?
mechanic (Jamaican accent): Will bway…me kyant tell ya praparli but me kyan say dat de compresharn feel arf. Ya si mi? Unna gat a pafarmance kyar so dat likkle drive unno a drive, a dun mash-up di ‘ead-gasket. True di engine camplex sa, mi nah whan fi touch it really.
nosa: So how much do you think it’ll cost?
mechanic: Passably, you might find sam-baddy to fix it fa tree a far ‘undred.
nosa: Seen seen. Thanks for looking at it.

What i then did was join the AA, and call them out the next day to have a look at my car, and if they couldn’t start it…diagnose the problem and tow it to my house. As soon as the mechanic hears the engine he says, “No compression. You done ya fuckin ‘ead gasket mate. Ooh it’s gonna cost ya!”. He tows me home.

Weeks go by and on the 7th May, on the advice of my best friend Bethel i decide to use his friend Michael to fix my car. The job had been costed to me at ?700+ by several garages, but as it was mainly just labour-intensive, Michael could save me literally hundreds; he’d done work for me before so i trusted him. (On writing those two sentences I can almost feel people sighing knowingly). Just so happens that on the same day as i was to give Michael my car to fix, i was helping Napa run some errands for uni stuff i think. Those closest to me know that while i was out running these errands, business turned bad…real bad.

So i had given Michael my car, and ?350 to fix it…but simultaneously lost ?*500. (The asterisk is there so i can avoid re-living the pain i felt that day. I was fucked basically. You can rest assured the * doesn’t stand for 1. I’ll come back to what happened on the financial side that day…someday. What i will say is that my summer, my health, morale etc was ruined. Maybe that’s how/why i found blogging to keep me company in my 6 months of a reclusive, poor, hungry and depressed lifestyle.)

Over the following weeks i spoke to Michael several times…on one occasion he drove back down to London from Letchworth to get another ?200. I was eager for it to be fixed as my car was a cash-cow for me, in the sense that, if business ever did go ‘bad’, i’d be able to recoup money by selling my car, and starting over. The head gasket needed to be fixed for me to cash-in the cow.

A month, a journey to Michael?s house with Michele at 4-in-the-morning and several ‘it’ll be done soon mate’ stories later i decided enough was enough. I told him to return the car to my place and reimburse me so i could get my car fixed elsewhere.

One day while borrowing Napa’s car to pick her up from an exam; completely out-of-the-blue Michael rings and says he is outside my house with my car on a trailer…where should he leave it. Keeping calm i ask him to wait 20mins for me to return home, as he didn’t give me any warning. Plus remember, he owes me money. I get home and my car is parked illegally, doors unlocked, key on my other cars (Mitsubishi Sapporo) rear wheel. I was pissed.

I suspected that he had bumped me. I knew at the time that his brother had been hospitalised into ICU after being ‘done over’ (two broken arms, two broken legs that type of thing) but either way, ultimately, business is business…simple. Regardless of family issues, there was no reason to deceitfully scam me. I know people who i may have recommended to him, that would have left him in a state that would have made him pray to be as healthy as his ICU’d brother…or simply killed him for the disrespect in the way he treated me and my car.

He begins to ignore my calls, requesting my money, so frustration filled, my older brother and i travel to Letchworth to ‘resolve the situation’. One of the highlights of my year, is seeing Michael pull up outside his house, get out his car and momentarily freeze as he sees two negros, ‘who obviously aint from round here’. He recognizes me…but who’s the big guy next to me? My brother is 6-foot-something about 15st and built. He used to be amateur boxing champ of the UK, and people have called him Tyson since he’s been a teenager. He’s probably one of the baddest mofo’s i know, in the sense that he looks capable of taking on anybody. The stories i could tell you!!!

Anyway, Michael after initially trying to call our bluff decides to pay over half the money back. At this point it is clearly evident, without question, that he deliberately bumped me. Cunt! He had assured me that he had done the head gasket, but the car wouldn’t stay running, but now i suspect that although the gasket may have been done, he didn’t un-gunk the thermostat, meaning he blew the gasket again. Another AA callout…which involved an impressive backfire due to wrongly connected HT leads showed the compression was far too low for the gasket to be ok.

So I ring up one of two mechanics i usually use (not the Jammo one in Harlesden), but the large, established mechanics at the end of my mum’s road. I remember the guy who i deal with there sweeping the floor, while i was on my way to school, when he was just an apprentice…now he runs the gaffe. He agrees to have a look at the botch job done by Michael, which is a hard thing to convince a reputable mechanic to do.

So it costs me another ?200 to remove the cylinder head. When i receive the call back from my mechanic he say that the head was so badly damaged, that they won’t put another head gasket on that head…i need to buy another cylinder head. But…due to the amount of business they have, and the fact they are trying to fix an incredibly complex botch job, they refuse to work on Michael?s mishaps any further.

So i pay another ?60 to tow my car to Willesden, to another garage that i have been recommended highly. We are now in early/mid-July. On seeing their premises and their professionalism, i was reassured that they were a quality outfit, so i left my car with them, for a recon cylinder head to be sourced and fitted by them at a cost of ?600. After they examine the engine however, they conclude that the damage done…by Michael…was so severe that the lower half of the engine can not be trusted to be reliable due to the immense prolonged heat it likely (from the looks of the cylinder head) experienced. I need to get another engine altogether…at a cost of probably a grand including fitting.

Even expletives are not concise enough to explain the base emotions i felt at that point. I actually felt to go and torch Michael?s house, car and person. Maybe i didn?t because he has a kid…or maybe i didn’t because ‘i’m not like that’. Either way my anger was bubbling hotter than any engine he’s ever cooked. My brother also said to me that i should just to learn from the experience; that i would never allow myself to be bumped by a tradesman like that again. I nodded, but deep down probably disagreed in the sense that by outsourcing i am placing trust, however small into someone else?s hands…trust which they may (un)intentionally abuse for personal gain…like i said before: business is business. I’m just not as crooked as some.

My car is still sitting at Barry’s Garage Willesden, 3 months later, waiting for me to instruct them to purchase the engine. I haven’t been able to afford to eat, let alone buy an engine for my car. In about a week though, my financial situation should allow me to fix my car, and buy them a couple of bottles of alcohol to say thank you…hopefully.

They probably don’t even realise my situation, and are probably pissed that my car is on their property, but not being fixed or claimed, but they haven’t done anything (yet!!!). I’m thankful though. Angel’s don’t always float down on a cloud with pretty wings and a halo. It’s the small sacrifices others have made that have maintained me this summer…Barry’s Garage included. You may want to read this poem again…it might make a bit more sense now.