Bloody hell - it's been a while since I have been out on the water on the jetski - so my nephew's Pirate Party at the Spit (beach just south of the Seaway) on Australia sunDAY looked like a great opportunity. Drag some kids on tubes, nick off through the seaway to jump a few waves, couple joyrides - family fun right? Wrong. First of all, when I was putting the ski in at the sneaky little ramp next to the pumping station in the park, the wheels fell off.
Well one of them. Literally.
The left hand trailer wheel basically dropped it's guts, the whole hub was stuffed. Mobile call to some Dads at Pirate Cove (arrgh) got me some volunteers and we manhandled the trailer to the water and slid the ski off. On the phone to SupaCheap and confirmed they have hub sets for a trailer so we figured we'd pop over there closer to leaving time and get the hub, fix the wheel and Bobs you're Aunty. But for now - lets get the ski thing happening.
Ah, or maybe not. Dash lights up, then the Battery warning starts it's shrill protesting whine. Oh crap. Was fine in the garage last weekend when I was doing a checkover in anticipation for this trip. Won't turn over. OK, we have jumper leads. Drive car to ski (thank god for Prados you can hang into the water), hook up jumper leads, nothing. Leave to "charge for 10 minutes that feels like 30, nothing. Give up and call Marshall, who oddly enough actually do have jetski batteries - for $150 including callout. It'll be an hour. OK, I'll wait - you lads head back to the party.
Nearly 2 hours later (as I sat on my arse and read the news off my blackberry) the Marshall arrives, we install the new battery - and guess what? Whatever is wrong with the ski ain't the damn battery. All sorts of wierdness then NOTHING from my readout LCD thingy (I am a technical kinda guy as you can see). No apparently loose leads, wires, or anything else. Mate who has 3 years of a Marine Mechanic's Apprenticeship and years racing his own boats is mystified. Bugger. So we may as well pull it out hey. Oh yeah, bloody trailer is busted. Look, you need a beer, anchor it here, no-one is going to nick it (I'm not that lucky), come to the party and have a spin on my ski, have a bite and a beer (in that order, I don't drink and ride, ever) and try to forget this for an hour or so. Good idea.
Well, I run into a guy I know on the beach with a friend of his and not 1 but 2 ski's out of petrol and the "support crew" on whatever bloody big stink boat they were out on safely ensconced back at Pallazzo Versace where the boat and ski owner lives. They call him and say "Hey bastard, we're out of fuel. Come get us." to which his response apparently was (as I found out later) to call VMR and hand it off to them. Old Mate wasn't feeling so bad by the time I told him what I had in front of me before I could even pull my dead ski out of the water. Mind you at that point he didn't realise his mate had fobbed him off to VMR and was back on the piss in 6 star comfort while they sat around like 2 shags on a rock getting pummelled by the 5 foot wash off all the Gin Palaces steaming past at 200 liters an hour. OK, beer is empty, wife is looking like she's had enough supervising 3 kids in that madhouse on her own, so I better get off to SupaCheap and fix this bloody trailer. Is it a Holden or Ford Hub? Can't read any inscriptions off the old one we have with us in greasy towell. Pretty sure this holden one is the right one. Back to the Spit - what the hell is up with this TRAFFIC??? Operation replace trailer wheel commences - to be immediately de-railed - wrong bloody hub, but we have buggered the bearing ring now. Back to SupaCheap (BLOODY TRAFFIC!!!) get different hub set, back to Spit (several near fatal road rage incidents and third different accident I have seen on the Sundale Bridge that day - what is with people running up each others arses on that bloody bridge? Is it some right of passage I am unaware of? It's more popular than Botox Parties in Paradise Waters) - this one fits. It's now like after 6pm. Wife wanted to be back in Brisbane by no later than 3. We still have to drop the Ski off at Heaths place so he can tow it to his mates who has a jetski place on the Coast later in the week for repairs. At that point I didn't want to look at the bloody ski or the bloody trailer, so I was happy to not have the thing following me all the way back to Brisbane like some faithful but defective hound. Arrive Brisbane circa 7.30 pm. Kids are tired, sandy, hungry and cranky. Wife similar. I'm all of that, with a side order of Guilt too please. I mean this whole thing is obviously my fault right? I tried to find something positive in it all - and all I could come up with was how lucky we were the hub didn't let go at 100km/hr on the M1. It probably decided to pack it in in just about the best place it could have, and at walking pace, going backwards.
Thank God for small mercies right?
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