I believe Kate has mentioned that we have tried to survive on the use of just one car. We’ve actually got on quite well, though have discovered that if you rely on one car, you probably want that one car to be reliable.
That unfortunately isn’t a description you’d attribute to Kate’s Fiat Panda.
I have to admit that I’m developing a bit of soft spot for that car. Considering a mere 999cc of engine, it drives with a remarkable verve and sounds like a souped up Dyson. However that is when it starts.
A week ago, as I walked out of the door to go to work, Kate noticed that it was raining lightly and remarked that the car might be hard to start. I paid little attention as the car had started relatively easily during the cold dry spell, but soon discovered that damp was the Panda’s achillee’s heel. It took 30 mins to get the car started that morning and for the next few days starting became awkward. The worst examples being last Wednesday night and Thursday morning.
The Wednesday saw me leaving work at 6.30 and leaving the car park behind the office at 7.00. Strangely the car waited for an hour and 20 minutes making no sign of starting, however, once I’d rung for roadside assistance, the car started immediately.
Unfortunately, the following morning, the car decided not to be so helpful and I flattened the battery whilst trying to start it. We later got it started by towing it down the road, but by then I had decided that we needed another car.
Subconsciously, I just had a desire for a worthless hunk of bright red german metal on the drive, but at the time I was seeking a motorcar.
And I believed I had found one in Haltwhistle later that day. I’d initially been attracted by a Metro for £400, but was strangely slightly more interested by an Audi 80 for £250. Apparently it was immaculate and had never missed a beat in the 112,000 miles that Princess Diana had put on it.
Yep. A bargain.
However, I’m not daft and a quick test drive and check over confirmed that I know nothing about cars.
Yep that’s right, the following morning the car wouldn’t start. It did jump start however before stopping again. And again. And again. After about 150 metres, I started walking and arrived at work considerably earlier than if I’d driven. A surprisingly short 30 miles
It only took 24 hours to return the car to hone under it’s own steam. Guess that’s German engineering for you.
I hate to say that today, having got the car ticking over nicely and quite easily, the car started to display it’s true self.
A lot of white smoke and a nasty puddle of water under the exhaust. I’ve seen this before. A mix pf burning oil and water vapour.
Bugger. It’s probably not going to be good. However 2 sachets of Cee-Lit may hold the cure. It’s worked before and hopefully it’ll work again. I’d hate to have to go back to the garage and complain about the car. The bloke who sold it was huge.
Changing subject, Kate’s new jewellery range, www.kaffo.co.uk, enters it’s first gallery tomorrow. We still haven’t decided on how to isplay them, so to play safe I drove down to the river to get some smooth stones which could be used. It was surprising how heavy half a dozen stones can be, particularly when you’ve put them in a feed sack and climbed a fence into a field of hungry sheep.
I’d climbed the fence as gently as you could imagine and touched doen with the faintest rustle of the sack.
“Safe” I thought.
“Bah (feedsack)?” said a sheep
“Bah bah (what’s he doing)?” said another.
“He’s got a feedsack, let’s kill the slapheaded git (He’s got a feedsack, let’s kill the slapheaded git)” said a third sheep.
The last sheep was quite scary.
It was at that point that I guessed the gate was a mere 100 metres away and started sprinting for it. A mere 1.274 seconds later I had slowed to a jog, realising how heavy the sack was. Fortunately, the sheep had just ate quite a lot of grass and had a bit of stitch.