It seemed simple enough at the time. A simple oil change on a truck. I was a lube operator at a new and used car dealers. I had for many years desired to be a motor mechanic and so, at the age of twenty-eight, applied to a dealership for the position of TA (tradesman’s assistant). I prided myself on my mechanical abilities and was quite often found under a friend’s car most weekends.

The used car world is notorious for shonky business practices and this particular dealership was no exception. There was a saying going around the pits in those days. "Whack them in, whack them out and wipe them."

This meant less work for overworked mechanics and more time for the important things in life, like running outside every time a lady walked past the garage.

Doing a good job meant doing as little as possible and not getting caught by the customer. "Thou shalt not get caught," is the first rule of business in the world of the used car dealer.

Anyway, this particular day I was scheduled to change the oil on a light truck. I use the ‘light’ guardedly, it had a sixteen-foot tray and I was engaged in major surgery for half an hour just trying to fit it into the lube bay. Being new on the job, I’d been exiled to a separate lube bay away from the main bays. This suited me fine as I could get on with the job without being interrupted, although I was closer to the clicking heels of adventurous women.

It took some time to fit this truck into the bay and as I looked at the clock I realised that I would not finish the job before the magic hour of 5.00pm. This was not a great problem to me however; I would just drain the oil, put in new oil, and lock up the bay and leave.

With this in mind I backed the truck out and rolled under it on a creeper. I had forgotten one ‘minor’ detail however, the handbrake.

You know that lever inside the vehicle that prevents it from rolling backwards down a ninety degree incline? I had left it off in my haste to finish the job before knock off time.

To make matters worse, I was already on a slight angle and as I drained the last the oil, I reached up and grabbed the cross member, hauled myself forward. I must have been stronger than I realised, although maybe the slight incline worked in my favour.

The truck was not there when I sat up and when I turned around to look for it, there it was, sailing effortlessly across the road towards the spare parts window. For a moment I was frozen with horror, this couldn’t be, hadn’t I left the handbrake on?

Being a ‘man of action,’ I leaped to my feet and raced across the road just as the truck hit the window. The plate glass was no match for four tonnes of runaway steel, neither was the brickwork or spouting. The truck literally bounced of the wall, amid the carnage of what had been the spare parts shop. I seem to recall the words of an advertising jingle for the insurance company AAMI running through my head at that point in time. Funny how the most horrifying incidents can bring out the wag in me.

The woman who had been standing at the counter a few seconds before had turned the same shade as her shirt but whiter. There I was, with a truck bouncing off the window and coming back for a second try, as if once wasn’t enough to make a complete idiot out of me. This time however, ‘action man’ was ready and leaping into the truck, I managed to start it and drive the vehicle back into the bay. I dismounted from my trusty steed and surveyed the damage.

The spare parts shop was looking decidedly the worse for wear. Divine retribution for overcharging the customer all these years? The manager didn’t think so unfortunately and failed to see the humour in the situation. I spent the night going over the incident over a beer or two dozen, trying to undo the damage.

My reputation was to follow me a few days later when I ‘forgot’ to check the wheel nuts on a Laser before we took it for a test drive. The vibrations from the left-hand front caused the mechanic driving the car the pull over and check the wheels.

A few days later, it was official; I was no longer in the employ of the dealership. In that time, one mechanic had written off a customer’s car whilst taking it for a test drive. The fact that he was doing an impersonation of racing car driver, Peter Brock, at the time was overlooked. I left the dealership a little wiser than I went in. the amount of ‘mistakes’ I’d witnessed in that time made an episode of The Three Stooges,’ look relatively bland in comparison.

The incident with the truck could have had tragic consequences I must admit, but as I sit at the computer dreaming up new plots and different ways of saying things I remember the lube bay and manage a slight grin.

"Lucky your car isn’t being fixed by yours truly."

Written by Alastair Rosie ©
 

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