Purchase and Arrival
Richard (being a sick and Feral individual) has lusted after a Manx
ever since he took his cruddy old Corolla down onto the beach of a Saturday
night to feel up chickybabes in the back, way back when he was a spotty,
snotty-nosed Uni student. Well, actually he spent more time chucking doughies,
running over kiddies’ sandcastles and getting bogged to the axles (on
an incoming tide, no less!) than he did feeling up chickybabes, but why
let the truth get in the way of a good story? Nope, I can’t think of a
One way or another, the seed of Manx desire was planted in those heady
carefree days, and it slowly festered… oops, sorry, grew from there. So
did a lot of other things, but anyway, I digress. Again.
A few years later, when Richard was reading (slowly, with difficulty,
and sounding out the more complicated words) the Trading Post in search
of cheap drugs and free women (or was that free drugs and cheap women?)
he espied an advert for a Manx buggy. The price was good, but the ad finished
with those dangerous words, “as is”. At least it wasn’t “as is, where is”,
which is the wording Richard used to try and sell the Corolla. If he’d
been telling the whole truth he’d have added “can only be viewed at low
tide”. There was nothing like that in this ad, so he went to have a look.
"Mummy, it followed us home, can we keep it? Please?
When Richard clapped his eyeballs on the Manx-thing
it was lust at first sight. He wanted it so badly that he didn’t even
flinch at the price. It wasn’t hugely expensive, but neither was it hugely
complete. In fact, there wasn’t much more than a bodyshell, a floorpan,
and a large lump of filth-encrusted alloy that may or may not have been
originally the motive parts of a VW Beetle. Not only did it not run, it
barely even rolled. All four tyres together only contained as much air
as a good bean fart. The front wheels were mounted backwards and didn’t
point in the same direction. Richard called the usual suspects out to help
him collect the bits. We had a hellish time hauling it up onto a trailer
and carting it back to Feral HQ, but the beers tasted very good indeed after
such a Herculean effort.
Wheel alignment, anyone?