There is a different mind set to those who travel for a living. My condition was spoken little about among my colleagues in the previous contract. These workers would travel to work each day from their house. And back to their house at the end of the working day. They couldn't understand a different life such as mine, and so I rarely talked about it.
Working now for a major consulting company where those I am working with will return to a hotel during the week rather than their own home - among this group of nomads in denial, I have experienced no prejudice at all. In fact the opposite - they are inquisitive, supportive and enthusiastic about this way of doing things. Like me they would prefer to return back to their own habitat each evening, rather than an over heated hotel with a limited menu, single window over looking a busy street and a set of rules from hotel management.
And it is a strange thing, to be driving your home into work and back each day from a campsite inhabited by lambs, ducks and tourists. Living in a transit van is a unique experience. There is something special about waking up with a view through the windscreen of a mountain ridge rising into the mists. An environment where the noise of the vehicle is replaced by the rumblings of a farm. The horses, birds, sheep and cattle. And all too often the pitter patter of rain on the transit's tin body.
It is the unexpected noises in the transit that stresses the traveller and tries his patience. And it was a rasping noise of metal against metal that commanded my attention last Tuesday night as I was driving back from the office to the campsite in the Pennines. I drove on a couple of miles until I found a park I could drive into and examine the vehicle. The tail end of the exhaust was scraping against the back axle. The rubber hangar responsible for keeping this section attached to the vehicle had broken apart. I was rather annoyed since it was only last December that I had a brand new exhaust fitted and this should not have happened so soon. I reached for my tool box and suspended the exhaust on its hanger firstly with a cable tie. Then I strengthened this with a section of clothes line rapped around the joint and secured with a knot. This little fixed worked well and lasted until the Friday.
After work on Friday I drove to the nearest KwikFit store and they repaired the exhaust since it was still under warranty. They also performed a tyre examination and suggested one of my tyres needed replacing. Oh well - you can't compromise with safety, so fifty five pounds got me a new front left tyre. They know how to do business. I don't mind this sort of thing - I would rather prevent something from breaking than deal with something that has already broken. The back right tyre will also need replacing soon. I would have got them to replace this also but they only had one tyre in stock and I was eager to commence the seven hour trip back home, rather than wait while they got another delivered from their nearest store.
Working now for a major consulting company where those I am working with will return to a hotel during the week rather than their own home - among this group of nomads in denial, I have experienced no prejudice at all. In fact the opposite - they are inquisitive, supportive and enthusiastic about this way of doing things. Like me they would prefer to return back to their own habitat each evening, rather than an over heated hotel with a limited menu, single window over looking a busy street and a set of rules from hotel management.
And it is a strange thing, to be driving your home into work and back each day from a campsite inhabited by lambs, ducks and tourists. Living in a transit van is a unique experience. There is something special about waking up with a view through the windscreen of a mountain ridge rising into the mists. An environment where the noise of the vehicle is replaced by the rumblings of a farm. The horses, birds, sheep and cattle. And all too often the pitter patter of rain on the transit's tin body.
It is the unexpected noises in the transit that stresses the traveller and tries his patience. And it was a rasping noise of metal against metal that commanded my attention last Tuesday night as I was driving back from the office to the campsite in the Pennines. I drove on a couple of miles until I found a park I could drive into and examine the vehicle. The tail end of the exhaust was scraping against the back axle. The rubber hangar responsible for keeping this section attached to the vehicle had broken apart. I was rather annoyed since it was only last December that I had a brand new exhaust fitted and this should not have happened so soon. I reached for my tool box and suspended the exhaust on its hanger firstly with a cable tie. Then I strengthened this with a section of clothes line rapped around the joint and secured with a knot. This little fixed worked well and lasted until the Friday.
After work on Friday I drove to the nearest KwikFit store and they repaired the exhaust since it was still under warranty. They also performed a tyre examination and suggested one of my tyres needed replacing. Oh well - you can't compromise with safety, so fifty five pounds got me a new front left tyre. They know how to do business. I don't mind this sort of thing - I would rather prevent something from breaking than deal with something that has already broken. The back right tyre will also need replacing soon. I would have got them to replace this also but they only had one tyre in stock and I was eager to commence the seven hour trip back home, rather than wait while they got another delivered from their nearest store.
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