Backstory.
Couple years ago, Alan and I borrowed an outfit and went down south to make up a full grid for the nationals. Had more fun than standing in a pool naked, that's teaming with guppies.
Recently we decided we should buy one together, after my wedding in February. Cool.
Sidecarbob calls me three days ago, fizzing like a kid at Christmas. Informing me that if I didn't buy this outfit right now, he'd do the stuff to my bum, that he Scrivy so enjoys having done. I don't like the sound of that much, so before I get the gory details I buy a very cheap outfit that Alan hasn't even agreed to yet.
That was Thursday night. Friday comes, and after a short day at work, I call Alan so we can come up with a workable plan to get the chair. "What are you doing today"?
"Nothing".
"Wanna go on a road trip"?
"Sweet".
I grab the trailer from TSS Red Baron. (Cheers Stu). We jump in the 'coon' uterus and head to Hastings. Dude who owned the chair didn't know we were coming, but he'd sent an email saying any time except Sundays, so I figured it'd be sweet.
We realise when we get to Hastings, that we're not gonna get a decent pub meal here, so we head to Napier in search of a good steak. I might have had us wandering around on a wild goose chase to find the right spot, but when we did, the $38 steak we had...WAS THE BEST WE'D EVER HAD! Good fuckin job too at that price!
Anyhoo, get hold of the owner at last, and head back to Hastings to grab the chair.
So here it is, back in Wellington, without a garage to put it in yet. Hehehehe. Cheers for the carport space Jimmy. Good cunt.
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