A Sad Tale of a Frustrated Man. Part 2.

Now where was I.
As the Haynes manuals always say, reassembly is the opposite of dismantling. Or something similar.
So it’s me versus the small springy thing again. Hold tightly in pliers, screwdrivers at the ready. Nope, need to wipe the sweat off my brow befrore i can face this.
Grip, wiggle, wiggle again. And ping.
There’s the bugger, lying in the bottom of the door.
Grip, wiggle, wiggle again in a slightly different way. And ping.
There it is, this time it’s trying to hide from me behind the central locking motor. Just where i can’t reach it with a screwdriver. Rummage in the garage, come up with a bit of wire and it’s free.
Grip, wiggle, wiggle again in a slightly more tentative way. Nope it’s slipped off. But at least I’ve still got it in the pliers. Better wipe off the sweat again, this is getting fraught.
Grip, wiggle, wiggle again, I can see it’s nearly on, wiggle with just a smidgen more force. Oh hell it’s gone. Freeze, don’t move a muscle, etc.etc.
Can’t see it. Gingerly step back. Still can’t see it. Ok gently shake yourself, it could be caught up in your clothes. Still can’t see it. Fetch a torch. Still can’t see it. There’s a degree of panic rising now. This is exactly why me and small springy things have such a history. Feasibly, where could it be? It must be inside the door. Five minutes of torch searching, gently shaking the door and searching again and it’s nowhere in the door.
Ok, could have gone into the Land Rover. There’s a lot of stuff inside this Land Rover, and it takes a while to remove it all, bit by bit and examine it minutely looking for the small springy thing. Nope it’s not there either. Or if it is, it’s far too good at the game of hide and seek for me.
I have to face up to the worst possible outcome for missing small springy things, it’s got to be on the ground. The uneven, tarmac ground that passes for my next door neighbours drive. Mine is even more uneven and has another Land |Rover parked on it,
Never mind, it could be worse, I’m trained in search techniques. Slowly, methodically and I’ll find it.
Sod that, I’m getting madder and madder by the second so logic has been replaced by the need to find this small springy thing, right this second. Nope, can’t see it. I’ll have to try being all sensible after all, searching in a nice pattern, looking carefully under the wheels, radiating the search outwards. By the time I’m lying face down under my wife’s Land Rover, about 10 feet from where the small springy thing was last seen, I have to admit defeat.
It’s gone. Forever.
Lunchtime. And, pragmatically, over a muture cheddar cheese and red onion chutney sandwich, I know that this small springy thing will only cost a couple of quid. And there’s a Land Rover specialist just over the hill and he’s boound to have an old door knocking about, even if he doesn’t keep said small springy thing in stock. So it’s not too bad. And I’ll be doubly extra careful when I fit the new one and it’ll all be fine.
Said Land Rover specialist doesn’t have this particular small springy thing in stock, although he does have an impressive number of different small springy things for Land Rovers on the shelves. None of them will do, but I consider buying one of each, just as a precaution for the future. Nor does he have an old door knocking about. So, I’m going to have to travel to Sheffield or Wakefield, to the nearest franchised dealer to buy a small springy thing. My mind fills with dread at the idea of having to describe exactly what the small springy thing is to the parts sales assistant there. If I do it over the phone he won’t have the right part and will have to order it in. And then he’ll get the wrong one anyway. I’ll have to go there in person, and see how many failed attempts to describe it it’ll take before he finally lets me look at his version of the Turin Shroud.
The parts microfiche.
And he still won’t have the right part and he’ll still have to order it in, so I’ll end up having to go back another day and no doubt it’ll be a different parts sales assistant and he won’t have a clue what I’m on about.
I give up.
The small springy thing wins.
I’m defeated, a broken man. I can’t face any more today.
So I put enough bits back together that the blasted Land Rover door is shut and locked and take it back to base.
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be able to summon up the willpower to face the Land Rover parts sales assistant. In the meantime I’m off to waste half the evening searching eBay in the vain hope that someone will be selling exactly the small springy thing I need.
Grumpy. Damn right I’m bloody grumpy.
Grumpy Iain.