Bodge JobsIf you can't fix it with a hammer and a roll of duck tape, it's not worth fixing at all, my old mate said minutes before that nasty business with the hammer and a roll of duck tape. Tell us of McGyver-like repairs and whether they were a brilliant success or a health and safety nightmare.
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 10 Mar 2011, 11:58)
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third bikeI needed a new bike. I was 9 or 10, it was the mid eighties. We were out walking one day and my dad spied a bike in a ditch. Yessiree a bike. In a ditch.
Dad could/can fix anything with a roll of wide black electrical insulation tape and unlimited profanity, so he set about refurbing this bike. It was in the old racer style, so it was stripped down, resprayed and sorted, even had some comedy hand grips at the end of the handlebars.
I loved that bike; this was before the days of brand-snobbery and as long as it enabled me to cycle to the other side of town or to perform some great skids on damp grass I was well happy.
So where is the bodge? Our school insisted on getting the filth in to do a cycling proficiency course. My bike failed on so many points the rozzer overlooking the whole thing needed to continue on the back of the form. He even made me promise that I would walk it home that evening.
Upon reading the long list of misdemeanours presented to him, Dad toiled on Sunday to ready it for inspection the next week. It passed. Just.
(, Fri 11 Mar 2011, 12:58, 1 reply)
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