Sun Lounger Saga
Well. Well well. One of those days I will never forget just happened. In fact it wasn’t even a day, more of a two hour car journey through the pouring rain with a large piece of furniture poking through the sun roof. Ironically it was a sun lounger, and the sun was no where to be seen, but that was the least of my problems. Or at least, it was when we hit sixty.
Yes, I’ll be the first to admit, you certainly wouldn’t think it would be a problem fitting a little old sun lounger into a 5 series BMW. No really, I may drive a large saloon car, but this simply means the rear seats don’t fold down. The boot certainly wasn’t large enough, and short of removing the front or rear screens there simply wasn’t a large enough ‘hole’ to jam the box through. But boy did we try.
Fifteen minutes of panting, grunting and sweating later the three of us decided that it simply would not fit through the doors. The seats were down, windows open, and hinges creaking. Onlookers were laughing derisivly from their Nissan Navara’s and Volvo Estates. Then, a flash of genius. People say these flashes often come from places you least expect, and this was no exception. Yes, you guessed it, Jake, of all people, had found a way out of nightmare. The sunroof!
The most common exit in any nightmare, we immediately leapt into action before the rain really set in, and cranked the sunroof all the way open to eleven. Talk about tight fitting double-entendres, the huge lump barely squeezed into the hole, and there was still some pinching at either side when we wedged it in at an angle… But it was secure (-ish) and we set off. Unfortunately not for long, as within minutes of hitting the open road we encountered our first major problem. The lounger was undressing itself, and we risked dumping large pieces of hardwood and metal onto the vehicles behind us. As well as this, the huge slab of cardboard that had come loose was flapping around like a parachute, and drastically affecting the fuel economy and performance of our ride. After a short stop, and plenty of Duck Tape, we had managed to tame the lounger, and it was secure once more.
There were still problems that we couldn’t fix however, such as the incredible wind noise generated when we passed 50, the flood of water trickling down into the car and onto my head, the annoying as hell piece of tape that kept sticking to my hair, the fact that Lenny was being eaten alive in the back seats by the rear end of this contraption etc. etc. And still we motored on, as with just 40 miles to go it hardly seemed worth stopping… besides, the worst was yet to come.
Picture the scene with me here for a moment; We arrive home, happy that we conquered the sun lounger’s spirit, and battered it into submission. We almost launch it out of the sunroof when we stop on the driveway. Then wrestling it into the kitchen we proceed to unwrap our prize. But, very quickly, a realisation. There is a piece missing. Now, being the pessimistic bastard that I am, I really should have demanded someone double check the box right there in the shop, when I saw it was already taped up and not factory sealed. But no, I foolishly trusted the Homebase monkeys not to sell me a half completed item, and let it slip right by me. Not even when we were furiously trying to hammer the lounger home in the car, and opened up the packaging, did I see a huge empty space where the missing link should have been. Sigh.
Guess we’ll be returning it then guys…
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