TVR - why-o-why do I love you
Discussion
The day: Sunday 30 June 2002
The Location: Langdale, Lake District
The Destination: Crewe, Cheshire
The Weather: P***ing Down
You might think that having a destination of Crewe was daunting enough but this journey was bad, real bad.
After persuading my beloved to go to the lakes in the Wedge for the weekend, we faced a simple journey back home after the World Cup Final.
At 3pm we finally set off after I'd cracked a joke, saying that the windscreen wipers would pack up on the way home. HA HA, how I chuckled to myself as she laughed at my little quip.
As we headed off in the pouring, seriously hazardous rain, we reached Windermere where the traffic started to slow as people made their way towards the M6. Lucky enough, the flow of traffic kept moving and it was at this stage that I thought it would be a good idea to stop at the upcoming BP garage for my Bensons before we hit the motorway.
The garage appeared shortly after a purple Griff had passed with a waving hand of TVR recognition. I pulled in and hopped out to get my fags. At least if we got held up, I'd have some cigs to pass the time.
It was at this point that things started to go a bit wrong. As I lowered myself into the car, strapped myself in and started the engine, I was convinced I'd left the wipers on intermitent - but they did'nt come on. Nor did the demist blower. Nor did my usually smiling mouth. "Whats up?", she said. "The Wipers!", I said. The temptation of fate, I thought.
It was'nt the fuse or the relay and I'm afraid my checklist stops there as far as ideas go.
After 20 minutes of debating things, I thought I'd try to drive without them - anyone who's done this will know its not a good idea. As it happens, in a Wedge the screen slopes sufficiently well enough that water half clears ar 55mph so I thought I'd keep going.
It did'nt matter too much as the M6 was crawling so I thought I'd try to keep going at least to the next junction. O.K, one more junction was achievable, then another, then another and so on. The fact was that the traffic was that bad, it took 4 hours to get to junction 29 near Preston. The fan was managing to keep the engine cool but steam was coming out of my head faster than the Flying Scotsman. If the wipers were working, I still would'nt have been able to see as the windows were so misted up that people must have thought I was shagging whilst on the move!
Half my Bensons were smoked.
I was approaching breaking point by the fourth hour but then, could it be, YES the traffic started to move as we passed through the unmanned roadworks. I think we're gonna be O.K now I said, as the rain lashed down hard enough to dislodge the other rain blocking my vision.
By Junction 21 I was tired, battered and defeated but I kept going. What's this, I thought to myself as the clutch pedal seemed to be different to normal. Could it be another problem? I pressed it in again.
"The clutch is on its way out", I said in a monotone, zombie type voice. "HA HA", she said, "Dont fool around". I did'nt need to say anything else. I just let the crunching / revving / crunching sounds do all the talking for the short bit of journey that was left.
5 Hours and 20 minutes after my original joke about the wipers, I finally managed to back the means of transport into my garage.
Now - excuse me if I'm wrong but are'nt fags supposed to do you harm and TVR's are supposed to be a release of pressure ?????
It Will Be Back .........................
The Location: Langdale, Lake District
The Destination: Crewe, Cheshire
The Weather: P***ing Down
You might think that having a destination of Crewe was daunting enough but this journey was bad, real bad.
After persuading my beloved to go to the lakes in the Wedge for the weekend, we faced a simple journey back home after the World Cup Final.
At 3pm we finally set off after I'd cracked a joke, saying that the windscreen wipers would pack up on the way home. HA HA, how I chuckled to myself as she laughed at my little quip.
As we headed off in the pouring, seriously hazardous rain, we reached Windermere where the traffic started to slow as people made their way towards the M6. Lucky enough, the flow of traffic kept moving and it was at this stage that I thought it would be a good idea to stop at the upcoming BP garage for my Bensons before we hit the motorway.
The garage appeared shortly after a purple Griff had passed with a waving hand of TVR recognition. I pulled in and hopped out to get my fags. At least if we got held up, I'd have some cigs to pass the time.
It was at this point that things started to go a bit wrong. As I lowered myself into the car, strapped myself in and started the engine, I was convinced I'd left the wipers on intermitent - but they did'nt come on. Nor did the demist blower. Nor did my usually smiling mouth. "Whats up?", she said. "The Wipers!", I said. The temptation of fate, I thought.
It was'nt the fuse or the relay and I'm afraid my checklist stops there as far as ideas go.
After 20 minutes of debating things, I thought I'd try to drive without them - anyone who's done this will know its not a good idea. As it happens, in a Wedge the screen slopes sufficiently well enough that water half clears ar 55mph so I thought I'd keep going.
It did'nt matter too much as the M6 was crawling so I thought I'd try to keep going at least to the next junction. O.K, one more junction was achievable, then another, then another and so on. The fact was that the traffic was that bad, it took 4 hours to get to junction 29 near Preston. The fan was managing to keep the engine cool but steam was coming out of my head faster than the Flying Scotsman. If the wipers were working, I still would'nt have been able to see as the windows were so misted up that people must have thought I was shagging whilst on the move!
Half my Bensons were smoked.
I was approaching breaking point by the fourth hour but then, could it be, YES the traffic started to move as we passed through the unmanned roadworks. I think we're gonna be O.K now I said, as the rain lashed down hard enough to dislodge the other rain blocking my vision.
By Junction 21 I was tired, battered and defeated but I kept going. What's this, I thought to myself as the clutch pedal seemed to be different to normal. Could it be another problem? I pressed it in again.
"The clutch is on its way out", I said in a monotone, zombie type voice. "HA HA", she said, "Dont fool around". I did'nt need to say anything else. I just let the crunching / revving / crunching sounds do all the talking for the short bit of journey that was left.
5 Hours and 20 minutes after my original joke about the wipers, I finally managed to back the means of transport into my garage.
Now - excuse me if I'm wrong but are'nt fags supposed to do you harm and TVR's are supposed to be a release of pressure ?????
It Will Be Back .........................
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