Sounds good
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You want to read up on the Newcastle one! It was carnage apparently.
Well that’s a first. Can’t drive the car back from mot centre as it’s to bad…..I live 400 yards away.
Brakes plus numerous other things are wrong
£1,000 plus to fix.
Scrappies here we come
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That’s a bit shit.
Yes been a bit worried about this one as had quite a few advisories from last year.
Shame as it’s a really good engine,but lucky I wasn’t out on a long drive if it’s that bad
I used the Government Scrappage Scheme when I binned my CMax 2 years ago. Got £315 for it. Worth checking out?
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Thanks. Will probably sell it to a friend who runs a Vauxhall spares. Though he is waiting to see the failure sheet online to see if it can be sorted cheaper
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Car being serviced, mot and new cv boots fitted today. 8 years trouble free driving to date, fingers crossed for good outcome when collected. Changed garages for convenience sake after 40 years wirh previous one, hope it isn’t a mistake.
That’s a bummer. Hope you can find a cheap fix or replacement.
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Going to sell off most of my excess hifi if I can and try and get a Meriva which will be much better for my back
Does. Not. Compute.
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That feeling when it’s time to let an Astra go to the great breaker in the sky.
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What were the advisories last year?
I once found myself, as an insensitive 18 year old, with unstoppable giggles at my great great aunt (or something)'s funeral. She was mid-90s and passed away peacefully, and had had a pretty unremarkable life. In all, it was as sad as any normal death from old age is, but the eulogisers were treating it like it was the most awful tragedy. I remember thinking it’s like they’re bewailing the untimely and premature passing of a child prodigy, or gifted contributor to humanity taken in their prime. I found the juxtaposition between that and the image I had of the elderly woman I’d known all my life comic, and started to laugh, and then due to the awkwardness of the situation, couldn’t stop. My dad, standing in front of me, angled his shoulder towards me, so I buried my head in his shoulder pad, hoping my by-now guffaws would be mistaken for sobs of anguish.
Note: I may have still been high from the night before/early morning, which may have been a contributing factor.
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Friend of ours is still in bits at every mention of her late mum, gone these past two years - and said friend is normally no attention-whoring drama-queen . . . aaaand her mum lived to sodding 96 and-and had quite frankly had Enough by the time she shrugged-on her chipboard overcoat…
It begins to grow a little thin TBH - loved & missed: sure, but beyond celebrating a very long life well-lived, enough mopping and mowing - let the scab heal FFS!
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Kill Joys.
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