One sunny day the ould lad took delivery of a vehicle for funeral activities and it was sitting outside the shop that afternoon with the ould lad gazing at it like it was a page 3 model.
“Where the hell did you get that piece of Shiite” says I
“It's a Mercedes” says the ould lad, like that made it all right.
“The badge doesn't change the fact that it's a piece of Shiite” says I
“A little tweaking and servicing will sort it” says he
“That's like saying a new suit would change the nocturnal habits of Jack the Ripper” says I
“Feck off and let's get started” says he
“Whoa Superman, remember the last time you tried to fix the car” says I
“This is different” says he
“Yeah it's a Mercedes” says I, deftly avoiding a sweeping right hand
Anyway I persuaded him to take it to a proper garage explaining that it would be money well spent in the long term. Apart from nearly fainting at the prospect of spending money, he was quite relieved I think, that he didn't have to do the work. He took off in the contraption and I followed behind.
I had to have the stereo on full blast to mask the snarling Mercedes in front and hold back as my windscreen was getting splattered with oil. The smokescreen the ould lad was putting out would have had James Bond beaming with pleasure. We pulled into the garage and the ould lad proceeded to lay down the rules of engagement.
“OK Liam, do the minimum to get it working right” says he
“Jesus, Michael where did you get this wreck” says Liam
“Just take a look and give me a ring before you start work on it” says the ould lad
We drove back home with the ould lad spouting on about the fact that it was a great piece of German engineering and that people would be proud to be seen dead in it. I left that statement without reply as he was too close to me for any sort of avoidance manoeuvres.
We were home for a couple of hours when the phone rang and by the way the ould lad was nodding and tutting, I guessed it was Liam. When he was finished the phone call he returned to the shop.
“Not bad at all, told you there wasn't much wrong” says he
“How much to sort” says I
“Engine is robust, great motor” says he
“How much” says I
“He was amazed at the exhaust system” says he
“How much” says I
“Under £100, and we can pick it up tomorrow evening” says the ould lad as if to say I told you so.
When I arrived in from work, I had to miss my usual refreshments on the way home, we set off for Liam's. When we got there the ould lad told me to head home and he would sort Liam out and be right behind me. I got home and a few minutes after the ould lad breezed into the yard in the Mercedes. I had to admit that it looked and sounded great. The engine was ticking over nicely and the obnoxious fumes were not to be seen.
“He did a good job” says I
“Told ya” says the ould lad “great car”
Having won this round of one upmanship he crowed and the topic of conversation in the shop all evening was this great conveyance that he purchased. He would drone on about what a great judge of machinery he was and how I was Shiite and couldn't tell the difference between a classy Mercedes and a rusty bicycle.
I popped over to Tulla that night as I was courting a particularly nice girl from that area and we retired to Minogue's for a wee drink. Liam was in there and I bought him a drink.
“Jesus Ger, that jalopy took a while to put right, I was working through the night on it” says he
Now that was strange, how was the cost of repair under £100 if he spent all that time on it, maybe he owed the ould lad a favour.
“If it wasn't for the fact it was your father, and he was paying cash, I would not have touched it, as it was parts alone cost £300 and most of them were second hand” says he
I didn't like to be crass and ask how much his labour was but I reckoned at least another £150. Now as this was 1980, it added up to a heap of money. £100 my arsium, this little snippet was filed away under blackmail and all was well with the world.
Priceless..
