Over the last few days I noticed the brake warning light flickering on and off. I thought maybe the handbrake wasn't fully down. A quick call to my brother in law confirmed that I would be needing new front brake pads asap. I've known him for about 25 years and in my humble opinion he's the best mechanic on the planet. Every problem has a solution and he won't give up until he's beaten, which hasn't happened yet. The brakes were a doddle for him and they were done within the first half an hour. Then I started pointing out minor problems that had been building up and he got to work solving them. My glove box had a rattle, he fixed it. The boot was catching on the rear bumper, he fixed it. The rear bumper foam was cracked (I reversed into a post last year) he filled it and sprayed it. This job alone will save me a couple of hundred pounds as my cab garage would probably put a new bumper on in order for the cab to pass the inspection in June. As mentioned a couple of posts ago, my wheelchair ramp was jammed, he unjammed it and lubricated it all. The front body panel was a dull black, he buffed it up nice and shiny. An interior door reflector had dropped off, he fixed it so that it would never drop off again. My drivers seat was all loose, he made it firm again. My front grill was damaged and was rattling, he fixed it up real good. A door rubber kept dropping down, he attatched it permanently. I suppose you could say that most of those jobs are minor and easily solvable but I tend to let stuff build up to the point where it all gets too much, so Dean, well done mate and cheers. And also to Dianne for supplying the teas. And commiserations to Stacey for dropping her phone down the toilet.
I went straight to work after all the repairs but it was really uneventfull. I did have two nice jobs though. One of them was a wait and return from Oxford Street to Lotts Road. The guy was meeting someone there and when we arrived he got out on the roadside and left the door wide open. A 4 x 4 almost took the door with it as it sped by. I got a bit of a fright and shouted out to the guy angrily to come back and shut the fucking door. I think it pissed him off a bit that I had shown him up in front of the people he was talking to as he gave me an angry look, but fuck him, was he gonna pay to fix my cab? I don't think so. He stood there talking for a few minutes then got back in for the return journey and never spoke a word to me. The meter clicked onto £30.40 when we arrived and I told him that £30 would be fine. Needless to say he threw the money at me and stormed off. Am I bothered?
The next job was the last of the night and by far the best in a while. 3 drunk ladies going three totally different ways but wanting to get there in the same cab so they could chit chat. (More like slag their work mates off, as thats all they did the whole trip) One went to Queens Park, close to where I live, another went to Kensington High Street and the last one went on to Mitcham where I started my shift from my brother in laws house. Together with a £5 tip the last lady gave me £52 in all. I could have carried on but as I'd started the day a lot earlier I felt a little ratty and needed to get back to my home comforts.