Many years of trolling up and down the motorway to and from uni in Leeds has instilled in me a love for a long car journey. If I’m doing the driving I’ll generally be driving solo, giving me the opportunity to sing as loud as physically possible to a selection of show tunes, but more often its me and Mark, which gives time to have a massive uninterrupted chat (some of our best plans have come about after a long drive), some hideous car snacks (for many years I favoured the ginsters buffet bar- basically a long Scotch egg with the added bonus of coleslaw) and an excuse to put together what started as a mix tape, became a mix cd and in our old laziness turned into a massive bag of cds and a chance for me to play dj.
Last week we took a family trip to the forest of Dean to visit my auntie and the road trip was planned in earnest, including a trip to Tescos to buy sausage rolls, haribo and chocolate snowballs and a selection of cds taking in rocky horror, the Beatles and Stevie Wonder. The night before we hopped in the car to get a few last minute bits and horror of horrors, the engine light came on.
Armed with a Haynes manual, mechanic Mark managed to do some magic that got the light off and we high fived eachother and headed off merrily on our 200 odd mile journey. We hadn’t even got off the m25 when the bloody light came on again and spent the rest of our journey in a panic as the car put itself into safe mode and refused to go faster than 50 miles an hour.
Road trip ruined (although we still ate all the sweets), we finally limped to a garage to be told we needed a new coil pack. The mechanic reckoned we should be able to get home without it dying so we decided to wait until we got back and to but and fit the offending part ourselves, which turned out to be a really dim idea of we spent the return journey in an equally stressed state! Ho hum, lesson learned