It all started off as a pretty normal Monday. Work not quite kicked in for the week and the gentle fall of drizzle outside. I try to fill quiet days with Landy activity and am starting the lengthy process of preparing my Carawagon for a trip to Libya in Jan ‘09. Rather than leave things to the last minute I try and get the truck well sorted at least a month beforehand. There has been a slight rumble in the back axle for years and it has been fine for the last few Sahara trips, but I found a ‘new, old stock’ one on the internet at a main dealers in Chester. We did a deal over the phone and I set off. I noticed the old girl seemed a bit lacking in power, but would plod along at 50 and got me there okay. On the return journey though it got progressively worse. A call to Landy supremo - eldest son Matt, suggested a failing fuel pump. In rush hour traffic on the A51 I was becoming a liability so, 20 miles south of Chester I pulled into the car park of The Old Barbridge Inn and called Matt for assistance. Poor chap was already running around taking the boys to football/rugby practise, but he was up for it later. Not a problem. I went in the pub and had two lovely pints and a 10 oz Ribeye steak with all the trimmings, then fell asleep in the back of the truck until he arrived at 10.15. It was actually quite easy getting the Land Rover back to his place in Matlock. Up over the Peak District, black roads, no traffic and no sign of any coppers. I seem to have ended up with his Land Cruiser and the relieve that the breakdown was here and not there.
15 comments:
"To our family, he's the fourth service...."!!!
Yep. Top man. First service actually! I've never been in the AA or RAC argueing that the thousands of pounds I've not paid them will cover virtually any tow home.
The last time I inadvertently broke down, at Newport Pagnell services, I ended up sleeping in the waiting room at Manchester Piccadilly station.
But they're miles apart! Go on Peter, tell us the full story......
Yes full story please and Tobe...what was the ale you supped? Every other bastard details their boozing now so no reason for you not to either.
My Vauxhall Viva blew a gasket on the M1 in 1970. I limped into Newport Pagnell services where I abandoned it. A very pretty girl said did I want a lift and I'm not really sure what happened but I think she misheard me when I said 'Leicester'. Anyway she lived in Birkenhead. Is that enough?
Ron, They had three proper draught bitters on, so I felt it prudent to try all of them. Kicked off with a pint of Bombardier to take the edge off, then an Old Speckled Hen that washed down my steak a treat. There followed a snooze in the Land Rover till Grumps (his nick name, others) turned up. We then had a sharpener for the long haul home. He had 'wife beater' (Stella), I had Boddingtons. Three very different beers when you try them back to back. Cheers
I'm actually thinking of drinking even more, just because I can.
When I collected you off the Turin-Piacenza motorway (water pump) I brought a bottle of Glen Grant for the journey back and you drank most of the bleeder.
Yeah, but I needed it. My life was in ruins.
Never let Ron drink behind you in a car. The last time I let him I got out at the Hare Arms in Stow Bardolph and thirty five bottle caps fell out of the back of my shirt.
I can picture it.The old 325i, bottles of Newky Brown littering the back seat. God, how we lived. Off for a couple of pints of Timmy Taylor's Landlord shortly. Wonder how Ron's feeling.
Four and a half Originals tonight Ron. And a kiss from a complete stranger in the pub. Wonder how he'll feel in the cold light of day.
Eff off, the lot of you.
GBJ 141T I believe?
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