RLI
Member
Nightmare Part 2.
After purchasing the D22, on the trip back from Orange the one thing that stuck out about this Navara was the amount of grunt she had. I could not wait to get her back to Coffs Harbour and see what this baby was capable of, off-road.
A mate of mine (Neil), father-in-law (Dave) and I had just joined the Coffs Harbour 4 x 4 off-road club in February and before you are allowed to attend any 4 x 4 tag along trips, firstly, you must be able to demonstrate and pass the clubs safety & 4 x 4 handling course. Early one Sunday morning in late February my father in-law and I hooked up with Neil and the Coffs Harbour 4 x 4 club in the Coffs Harbour CBD. All up there was twelve trainees with ten vehicles and 3 course instructors with two vehicles.
That morning we headed out to one of the instructors properties in the Mount Coramba area to practiced hill stall recoveries, snatch trap recoveries, various winch recovery techniques and equipment safety protocols. After the first part of the course the club then decided to take all trainees on a trip to the Morbid Trail to test and assess our various skill levels, (for me it was about testing the D22’s 4 x 4 capabilities).
When we arrived at the start of the trail and looking at the very steep terrain, I knew power was not going to be an issue for me! However, looking at the facial expressions and body language from the other trainees, I knew this was going to be an interesting afternoon. (Recoveries here we come!)
First up was me, “f- - k it” I said to my father in-law, I looked at the poor old coote and said “tighten your trouser belt, seat belt and f- - king hang on you old focker! I put in high range and drove like the f- - king clappers and up we went, dodging, weaving, wheel spinning, I casually looked at my father in-law who appeared to be f- -king praying! (I am thinking to myself that’s strange he is not a religious person). I jumped on radio and notified the next driver to come up. The 2nd and 3rd stages were easy, however the 4th and 5th were hilarious with 4 of the trainees loosing traction, getting bogged and resulting in me and the Navara completing all the recoveries. (What a pisser, I just love towing Toyota’s)
After witnessing me completing all the stages and reaching the summit of the Mt Coramba look-out first. The instructors were a little stunned and one of them was even speechless by my speed and driving technique, pissing themselves laughing, they informed the group “Do not drive like that” at that moment my father in-law staggered out of the Navara and collapsed on the grass with both legs up in the air play acting for the group, and with everyone laughing no wonder the instructors picked on me! (Pricks)
Unfortunately in May, I became extremely ill. I thought I had a boil on the entrance of my arse! Me being stupid failed to inform my wife and failed to go seek medical advice due to my male pride. (What a Dick-Brain) Two days later the pain started to increase and I finally got my wife to take a look and she advised me to see the doctor straight away. I said to my wife if the pain gets worse I will, this was on a Friday. Sunday night ambulance was called; meanwhile I was pacing up and down in our kitchen/dinning area in agony. The paramedics arrive five minutes later and gave me a morphine injection and off to hospital we went.
My father-in-law (Dave) looked after our children while my wife followed the ambulance in her car to Coffs Harbour hospital. By this time I am starting feel real goooood!!!!!!! The morphine had kicked in. Two hours later the doctor arrives and for the next 3 hours he and other doctor’s debate amongst themselves to what is causing my discomfort. 4 hours later the pain is starting to come back, the treating nurse shoves a rubber hose down into the Wang! (The Old fella) f- - k meeee I said. (I nearly broke the world record for the high jump in a stationary position whilst the hose was being shoved down inside of the old fella).
Suddenly, the Indian doctor advises me that he thinks the pain is coming from inside my arse-hole, (I am thinking to myself I could have told you that) so he recommends to the nurse to give me a pain suppository! I asked “what the f- - k is a pain suppository” Quick as a flash the wife pipes-up and says; “there going to stick a painkiller tube up your arse my darling”! (I am thinking to myself “so much for dignity”) Two hours later back to square one, the pain is coming back with a vengeance; this time my temperature is now at 39deg.
The Indian doctor and two interns arrive around my bedside; the Indian doctor advises that he is going to inject local anesthetic into the boil in my arse, to hopefully stop the pain. I reluctantly roll over to assume the dreaded position with my teeth bit together! As soon as the needle entered the boil, I suddenly yelled out a classic “f- -king hellllllllllll” (for a split second I felt like the Cat out of the Tom & Jerry cartoons, only this time it is me with my tongue flapping two foot in front of my face, and with my eyes balls extended six foot into the air).
Two hours later the Indian doctor advises both my wife and I that I may have a fistula and it will require surgery. (Hooray I said to my f- -king self after 12 hours the tosser gives us a diagnosis) Then he shocked everyone present including the nursing staff, by stating I could go home and come back in one week’s time to be operated on. Both the charge nurse and accident and emergency nurse were very upset by the doctor’s decision.
We left the hospital at 11.30am on the way home in the car I was lapsing in and out of consciousness. Arrive at home collapse onto bed out cold. My wife, god-bless her, rang Berringa private hospital. My wife contacted the director of nursing explaining the outcome at Coffs Harbour and further advised I was now unconscious with a temperature of 40deg. The director of nursing at Berringa advised my wife and father in-law to bring me in ASAP.
Arrive at Berringa Hospital at 1.30pm, this time my temperature was 41deg and I was lapsing in and out of consciousnesses. The arse surgeon Dr Andrew Sutherland (Brilliant man.) decides to operate straight away. It turned out it was not a boil; it was an abscess/fistula. I had an infection / abscess 9inch’s inside my right hand-side rump towards my pelvis. The boil was actually the infection trying to force itself out. I nearly did not make my trip to Cape York.
The month of May 2010 required me to lay on my side on the lounge at home with a six inch straw sticking out of my arse whilst watching the World Cup Soccer. The straw was the drain for the abscess and had to be in for a month. I could not sit down or drive. However, I did read a shit load of 4 x 4 magazines.
MESSAGE FOR ALL YOU GENTS, TOUGH GUYS, WHAT EVER YOU WANT TO BE CALLED. SHOULD YOU FEEL ANY DISCOMFORT IN YOUR REAR END! PLEASE SEE A DOCTOR ASAP AND LEAVE YOUR PRIDE AT HOME. IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE!
Tragedy struck one late afternoon in November 2010, only 3ks from home. I had just filled my Navara with fuel and was heading home from a service station on the Pacific hwy. A B-double semi trailer was overtaking another B-double semi trailer when one of the trucks tyres exploded. This resulted in rubber shrapnel flying through and exploding my windscreen. Before I had time to say f- -k meeee, I was down the embankment performing the classical roll-over waltz; oo-haa crash bang oo-haa thump oo oo haa hurties hoo-ha (followed by “shit that hurts!”)
All the hard work was gone in a matter of seconds. The Navara was a total write-off, not one panel escaped damage. What saved me was the aluminum roll bar in the back of the Ute. It stopped the roof from totally collapsing in on me. (I have now gone religious and on Sundays, I like to sing hymn 69 thank the good lord for aluminum, aluminum, aluminum, aluninummmmmmm).
I was lucky to have walked away with only small cuts and abrasions and dented pride. My mates could not believe the amount of damage done to the poor Navara. (“Back to the drawing board” I said.)
In December 2010 I suddenly had more pain in the arse. This time I contacted the surgeon (Andrew) ASAP and he got me into hospital for a check and it was decided that we had go in and check for any tearing inside the bowl. At the same time I had just located a D40 Navara in Victoria a 2005, 5 speed, turbo-intercooled diesel with all the bells and whistles on it. Friday morning in surgery check-out bowl, everything is fine just the scar tissue causing the pain.
That afternoon I did the deal on the Navara, only one problem I had to pick it up on the Saturday due to over parties being interested in it. I rang my wife from my hospital bed and asked if she could organise a flight to Melbourne the following day. F- - k me she hit the roof (Women have know understanding when you have a good deal) God bless her she had me on 2.30pm flight from Coffs Harbour to Melbourne. All I had to do now was convince the doctor to release me from hospital!
A mouth full of pain killers and I landed in Melbourne to pick up the Navara. I could not believe the condition of the car it was perfect! It turned out the Navara belonged to ARB and Haley Brown was the daughter of one of the owners. Finally my luck was starting to change. 18 hours later I arrived back at Coffs Harbour, a little sore in the rear-end, but my morale was extremely high with the new toy!
For those of you that have not read my first thread in the Have A Rant section of the forum. Read the thread titled nightmares and more thread and yes I made it back to Cape York and that my friend is another story.
Stay tune for RLI’s family’s trip to Cape York!
PS, See you all at the Bull-slapping Muster Yehaa baby!
Regards,
RLI.
After purchasing the D22, on the trip back from Orange the one thing that stuck out about this Navara was the amount of grunt she had. I could not wait to get her back to Coffs Harbour and see what this baby was capable of, off-road.
A mate of mine (Neil), father-in-law (Dave) and I had just joined the Coffs Harbour 4 x 4 off-road club in February and before you are allowed to attend any 4 x 4 tag along trips, firstly, you must be able to demonstrate and pass the clubs safety & 4 x 4 handling course. Early one Sunday morning in late February my father in-law and I hooked up with Neil and the Coffs Harbour 4 x 4 club in the Coffs Harbour CBD. All up there was twelve trainees with ten vehicles and 3 course instructors with two vehicles.
That morning we headed out to one of the instructors properties in the Mount Coramba area to practiced hill stall recoveries, snatch trap recoveries, various winch recovery techniques and equipment safety protocols. After the first part of the course the club then decided to take all trainees on a trip to the Morbid Trail to test and assess our various skill levels, (for me it was about testing the D22’s 4 x 4 capabilities).
When we arrived at the start of the trail and looking at the very steep terrain, I knew power was not going to be an issue for me! However, looking at the facial expressions and body language from the other trainees, I knew this was going to be an interesting afternoon. (Recoveries here we come!)
First up was me, “f- - k it” I said to my father in-law, I looked at the poor old coote and said “tighten your trouser belt, seat belt and f- - king hang on you old focker! I put in high range and drove like the f- - king clappers and up we went, dodging, weaving, wheel spinning, I casually looked at my father in-law who appeared to be f- -king praying! (I am thinking to myself that’s strange he is not a religious person). I jumped on radio and notified the next driver to come up. The 2nd and 3rd stages were easy, however the 4th and 5th were hilarious with 4 of the trainees loosing traction, getting bogged and resulting in me and the Navara completing all the recoveries. (What a pisser, I just love towing Toyota’s)
After witnessing me completing all the stages and reaching the summit of the Mt Coramba look-out first. The instructors were a little stunned and one of them was even speechless by my speed and driving technique, pissing themselves laughing, they informed the group “Do not drive like that” at that moment my father in-law staggered out of the Navara and collapsed on the grass with both legs up in the air play acting for the group, and with everyone laughing no wonder the instructors picked on me! (Pricks)
Unfortunately in May, I became extremely ill. I thought I had a boil on the entrance of my arse! Me being stupid failed to inform my wife and failed to go seek medical advice due to my male pride. (What a Dick-Brain) Two days later the pain started to increase and I finally got my wife to take a look and she advised me to see the doctor straight away. I said to my wife if the pain gets worse I will, this was on a Friday. Sunday night ambulance was called; meanwhile I was pacing up and down in our kitchen/dinning area in agony. The paramedics arrive five minutes later and gave me a morphine injection and off to hospital we went.
My father-in-law (Dave) looked after our children while my wife followed the ambulance in her car to Coffs Harbour hospital. By this time I am starting feel real goooood!!!!!!! The morphine had kicked in. Two hours later the doctor arrives and for the next 3 hours he and other doctor’s debate amongst themselves to what is causing my discomfort. 4 hours later the pain is starting to come back, the treating nurse shoves a rubber hose down into the Wang! (The Old fella) f- - k meeee I said. (I nearly broke the world record for the high jump in a stationary position whilst the hose was being shoved down inside of the old fella).
Suddenly, the Indian doctor advises me that he thinks the pain is coming from inside my arse-hole, (I am thinking to myself I could have told you that) so he recommends to the nurse to give me a pain suppository! I asked “what the f- - k is a pain suppository” Quick as a flash the wife pipes-up and says; “there going to stick a painkiller tube up your arse my darling”! (I am thinking to myself “so much for dignity”) Two hours later back to square one, the pain is coming back with a vengeance; this time my temperature is now at 39deg.
The Indian doctor and two interns arrive around my bedside; the Indian doctor advises that he is going to inject local anesthetic into the boil in my arse, to hopefully stop the pain. I reluctantly roll over to assume the dreaded position with my teeth bit together! As soon as the needle entered the boil, I suddenly yelled out a classic “f- -king hellllllllllll” (for a split second I felt like the Cat out of the Tom & Jerry cartoons, only this time it is me with my tongue flapping two foot in front of my face, and with my eyes balls extended six foot into the air).
Two hours later the Indian doctor advises both my wife and I that I may have a fistula and it will require surgery. (Hooray I said to my f- -king self after 12 hours the tosser gives us a diagnosis) Then he shocked everyone present including the nursing staff, by stating I could go home and come back in one week’s time to be operated on. Both the charge nurse and accident and emergency nurse were very upset by the doctor’s decision.
We left the hospital at 11.30am on the way home in the car I was lapsing in and out of consciousness. Arrive at home collapse onto bed out cold. My wife, god-bless her, rang Berringa private hospital. My wife contacted the director of nursing explaining the outcome at Coffs Harbour and further advised I was now unconscious with a temperature of 40deg. The director of nursing at Berringa advised my wife and father in-law to bring me in ASAP.
Arrive at Berringa Hospital at 1.30pm, this time my temperature was 41deg and I was lapsing in and out of consciousnesses. The arse surgeon Dr Andrew Sutherland (Brilliant man.) decides to operate straight away. It turned out it was not a boil; it was an abscess/fistula. I had an infection / abscess 9inch’s inside my right hand-side rump towards my pelvis. The boil was actually the infection trying to force itself out. I nearly did not make my trip to Cape York.
The month of May 2010 required me to lay on my side on the lounge at home with a six inch straw sticking out of my arse whilst watching the World Cup Soccer. The straw was the drain for the abscess and had to be in for a month. I could not sit down or drive. However, I did read a shit load of 4 x 4 magazines.
MESSAGE FOR ALL YOU GENTS, TOUGH GUYS, WHAT EVER YOU WANT TO BE CALLED. SHOULD YOU FEEL ANY DISCOMFORT IN YOUR REAR END! PLEASE SEE A DOCTOR ASAP AND LEAVE YOUR PRIDE AT HOME. IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE!
Tragedy struck one late afternoon in November 2010, only 3ks from home. I had just filled my Navara with fuel and was heading home from a service station on the Pacific hwy. A B-double semi trailer was overtaking another B-double semi trailer when one of the trucks tyres exploded. This resulted in rubber shrapnel flying through and exploding my windscreen. Before I had time to say f- -k meeee, I was down the embankment performing the classical roll-over waltz; oo-haa crash bang oo-haa thump oo oo haa hurties hoo-ha (followed by “shit that hurts!”)
All the hard work was gone in a matter of seconds. The Navara was a total write-off, not one panel escaped damage. What saved me was the aluminum roll bar in the back of the Ute. It stopped the roof from totally collapsing in on me. (I have now gone religious and on Sundays, I like to sing hymn 69 thank the good lord for aluminum, aluminum, aluminum, aluninummmmmmm).
I was lucky to have walked away with only small cuts and abrasions and dented pride. My mates could not believe the amount of damage done to the poor Navara. (“Back to the drawing board” I said.)
In December 2010 I suddenly had more pain in the arse. This time I contacted the surgeon (Andrew) ASAP and he got me into hospital for a check and it was decided that we had go in and check for any tearing inside the bowl. At the same time I had just located a D40 Navara in Victoria a 2005, 5 speed, turbo-intercooled diesel with all the bells and whistles on it. Friday morning in surgery check-out bowl, everything is fine just the scar tissue causing the pain.
That afternoon I did the deal on the Navara, only one problem I had to pick it up on the Saturday due to over parties being interested in it. I rang my wife from my hospital bed and asked if she could organise a flight to Melbourne the following day. F- - k me she hit the roof (Women have know understanding when you have a good deal) God bless her she had me on 2.30pm flight from Coffs Harbour to Melbourne. All I had to do now was convince the doctor to release me from hospital!
A mouth full of pain killers and I landed in Melbourne to pick up the Navara. I could not believe the condition of the car it was perfect! It turned out the Navara belonged to ARB and Haley Brown was the daughter of one of the owners. Finally my luck was starting to change. 18 hours later I arrived back at Coffs Harbour, a little sore in the rear-end, but my morale was extremely high with the new toy!
For those of you that have not read my first thread in the Have A Rant section of the forum. Read the thread titled nightmares and more thread and yes I made it back to Cape York and that my friend is another story.
Stay tune for RLI’s family’s trip to Cape York!
PS, See you all at the Bull-slapping Muster Yehaa baby!
Regards,
RLI.
