Excerpt from “It’s a Rum Life" Book Two....
THE ACTUAL RELIANT EPISODE
Summer 1966
It was during my
initial weeks learning the ropes at E.C. Stanwell’s garage in Main Ridge that I
had my memorable first experience of a Reliant Robin.
I had recently left
the ‘Boston Standard’ after a lengthy interview with prospective employers
Firestone Tyres and was ‘gaining experience in the motor trade.
E.C. Stanwell’s were
the old established Rootes Group (Hillman, Humber, Singer cars) Main Dealers in
the Boston area and my task as junior salesman was to be general dogsbody to
Herbert Stanwell who worked from the Main Ridge Garage.
This particular day, I
was working in the showroom cleaning the floor or polishing a car and
intermittently serving fuel if “Mot” our
regular, trusty, retired steam engine driver, forecourt attendant, had a busy
spell.
The Reliant Robin was
not a regular client and unsuspecting of what the future held in store, just
pulled in to top up his tank.
“Mot” was quite busy
at the pumps with a queue. After several
months practice, I had completed the simple task of putting a fuel nozzle into
the car tank and dispensing the fuel hundreds of times without any problem; so
I stepped out confidently to the aid of this unsuspecting client.
This time fate took a
hand. How many things would you imagine could go wrong with this simple task?
THE PUMPS
Perhaps I should
explain that petrol pumps at the Main Ridge Garage were rather more basic in
the 1960’s than pumps are today.
They were a square box
with simple clock dial of either side to register the fuel flow in gallons. One
complete revolution of the “clock” was one gallon.
Located half way down
one side was a simple access hole to locate your winding handle in case of
electricity supply failure!
An illuminated globe
sat on top to advertise the make of fuel and provide light on the site when
open.
The dispensing nozzle
with its hose was located on the side and held the spring loaded, pump
actuating lever in place. It is worth mentioning that the hose was relatively
short and did not extend and retract as they do today. It was fixed from the
nozzle to a pipe coming out of the same side of the pump near the top where it swivelled
round a little to assist delivery of fuel.
It is important to
explain that on lifting the nozzle from its rest the pump lever was released,
sprang into a raised position, and the pump actually started in motion.
Not squirting fuel
yet, but the pump motor was working.
This was one of the catalysts
that contributed to my catastrophe; that and the short fixed hose!
CATASTROPHY
I can still picture
the situation clearly today. There is also something I have not mentioned; the
pumps were mounted on a small concrete island. It was necessary to step up and
step down to fetch and return the hose and nozzle.
The filler on the
Reliant was on the side of the vehicle away from the pump; which meant that the
hose had to be stretched to its fullest extent to reach.
First of all, somehow,
stepping down from the pump, I managed to get the fuel hose wrapped around my
legs. Then just as I approached the Reliant Robin from the back, it finally
entangled my feet with the grip of an eel.
I lost my balance.
My hand reacted quite
naturally by gripping onto whatever it could; in this instance the fuel nozzle
dispensing lever. A rapid flow of 95
octane two star petrol fountained from the end of the nozzle and jetted in a
steady stream over the centre of the roof of the car.
The owner stepped back
quickly, eyes staring wide, mouth agape and speechless.
My automatic reactions
engaged rapidly to tell me something was not quite right here and my hand
released the nozzle.
My first thoughts
were, “how am I going to enter this on “Mot’s” petrol sales sheet?
The car owner and I
stood there for just a moment side by side totally stunned.
HELP IS AT HAND
It seemed like ages as
we stared at the petrol streaming down off the roof of the car over the windows
and beginning to drip gently from the doors onto the ground.
My next thought was
that it was a good thing we were all non smokers.
“Mot” was a brick. On
realising what had happened, he sprang to my rescue with the forecourt watering
can, used normally for topping up large radiators.
“ It’s a good job
these motors are made of plastic,” he said in his friendly obliging voice, and
with no hesitation, just as if this type of thing happened every day, he
pouring the contents of the huge can all over the car and quite literally
washing the petrol away.
He deftly completed
the job, wiping away the last traces of fuel with a piece of waste cloth he
always kept in his pocket, “for just such an eventuality!”
This is where my
memory fails me.
Did the car owner
remain among these “lunatics” long enough to actually fill his tank? I think not!
I do remember the
wasted fuel was put down to the workshop for cleaning something or other!
Ends
Copyright KS 2009
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