the holiday of a lifetime part the last...

Came the morning and we were off again. Out of bed into the chilly October air, quick fry up, and ready to go. It was as well we got a proper start to the day.

 Le Patron and his henchman were taking us to the VW dealer, for the money, I had assumed a recovery truck or maybe a suspended tow going to happen. Silly mistake, a small peugeot van and a bit of rope arrived. Fortunately, the trip was short, otherwise the terror,knowing that there was no power assistance on the steering or brakes, might have caused a bathroom moment.

 So by the time we got to the VW agent we were looking a little wild and windswept. Hardly the sorts you might have wanted at a very posh upmarket mainly Audi dealership. Their service manager was immaculate and consummately professional, looking disdainfully at Newton the transporter he regretted that none of his technicians (no mechanics here) would be able to look at the vehicle that day but they "might" have a slot on Monday. A "might" Monday had all the utility of a chocolate fireguard so, with the going getting tough, the tough had to get going.

We had, in reality explored a number of contingency plans in the event of us being unable to repair the van. These had included things like herself taking the TGV, abandoning me in the South of France to sort the situation or hiring a car and running for the coast. The idea of traveling the length of France alone appealed to the management not one little bit so option b won out. With a lift provided from Audi Hilton (presumably to get us off the premises) we were soon at the airport where all the car hire people lived. Next a comparative trip from company to company to determine which was offering the best deal. Cheapest was Budget who offered an amazing deal but could not offer us a car, not much use then. A major issue was the distance we wished to cover, taking a car to Roscoff and leaving it there. Most companies included 250km a day, we were proposing 1000 over 2 days. It turned out Avis would do us a package deal with unlimited mileage, that made them the next cheapest they also had a Clio available (which is almost a car) so the deal was done. A set fee, unlimited mileage, away we went heading to the North coast.

 First of course it was back to empty Newton the van. I had, at the back of my mind a bad feeling that I might end up abandoning the van altogether, that it might just be impossible to get the it back. Everything we could remove from the T4 came out. The little Clio was filled, out onto the peyage and away we went. It was mid morning and we set out to make our little house in Brittany by night fall.

This was my first time driving a left hand drive car on the right. Something which would ideally be approached as a little try out run when you are fresh and refreshed. So a 1000 km run with a driver already running on empty, ending in a night drive along narrow lanes was less than ideal. Time has drawn a merciful veil over this trip, but it was with a certain amount of relief that we rolled up outside our little Breton house, opened the doors lit the fire and put the water heater on so we could have a piping hot shower to wash away a couple of days accumulated grime. Surprisingly we woke late next day and had a positively leisurely day.

Setting off mid afternoon for Morlaix to drop the car and catch the train to Roscoff. A hotel in town booked on the recommendation of the lovely staff in the ferry terminal who helped us reschedule our crossing and reserve a cabin. A pleasant evening in Roscoff, some nice beers, being in Brittany we went for a Vietnamese meal, then a quick early morning walk the ferry terminal. A choppy ferry trip home then a lift from Plymouth to Penole from my youngest daughter. Home and time to reflect on the errors of the last fortnight and decide where to go from here.

Leaving the van in a VW main agent could well have been a recipe for a huge bill. Actually, the fault on the van was not serious and a competent mechanic could have sorted it in a few hours. So even at VW rates it should not have been silly money. This of course assumed someone was about to get some spanners out. Days turned to weeks and still nothing from the VW agent. A contact in France agreed to mediate, being more likely to get sense out of the garage. Repeated phone calls produced a whole variety of explanations. None of which made sense.

While all this was going on, there came a surprise, a huge additional bill from Avis. Had I not returned the car or something?? No, Avis, despite having said otherwise had hit us with a huge bill for mileage. First step try to reverse the payment, the bank said no. Next step complain. This is obviously a standing scam for Avis, they had a slick set of prepared emails which ended up with one that included the "contract" we had signed at the car hire place. This contract was in English, unlike the one I had a copy of, it also didn't have a signature on it!! Requests for copies of the signed contract fell on deaf years. This is obviously a company to steer clear of, or to hire a car off then cancel all transactions the moment the car has left their garage. All in all we got stiffed over by Avis for several hundred pounds, a salutary warning.

While this was all going on, the very future of the van itself was being decided. In many ways it would have been simpler to just walk away, who takes the simplest course every time? With no assistance from the insurance company (complaints procedure ongoing) VW agency busy doing precisely not a lot, and the clock ticking on it was time to look at options. Getting a haulier to remove the truck back to the UK was an option (an expensive option). Repairs in the VW garage were looking less and less likely. There is of course a back story here, the problem with the VW was a failure in the tensioner pulley for the fuel pump drive. It needed a new pulley which would then allow you to set the timing on the fuel pump and the engine would run. Hey ho, a couple of hours work tops. Now, pretty much everyone gets their pulleys made by a big American firm, Gates. So there is someone paid to walk down the production line sticking pulleys in a box with VW written on it. Yet more go out in boxes with Gates written on them. Now, it had come to pass, some months previously that VW had sold the last of their pulleys in boxes with VW written on them and had yet to get round to ordering some more. A VW main agent is not allowed to open boxes with "Gates" written on it, everything they fit must come from a box with "VW" written on it. Anyone who popped their head under Newton's bonnet would immediately spot the problem, causing me to suspect that the myriad tales explaining why the VW garage had done nothing owed a lot to not being able to get the part.

So, it was time to do some serious thinking, by this stage Xmas had been and gone, it was a new year and February was the month. Heading to Merthyr I cadged a lift in a mates VW van which was loaded with tools and spares. Portsmouth was the destination and, at 9 PM one Sunday evening we came ashore in Ouistrheim near Caen. 9 AM next morning, VW Carcasonne opened it's doors and we were there. Out the back, exactly where I had left it stood Newton the T4. Bonnet open and Gerwyn was soon waving spanners at the world. Meanwhile I was inside discussing things with Mr Supersuit the garage manager. He was quite happy for me to take the vehicle, but there was the small matter of a parking fee, 40€ a week parking fee. I responded that, the reason the vehicle was in his parking lot exactly where I had left it owed it's all to inaction on his part and that I was not parting with a bean for parking, but I might charge him vehicle hire. More jolly discussions, supersuit relented, we could have the van with no bill to pay.

Dragging Gerwyn from under the bonnet I suggested we get off the premises before Supersuit changed his mind. Parked on the street outside, a whole 25 minutes spanner waving time later, see if it would start, said Gerwyn, on the button it started. Gerwyn was all for taking it back to the garage to show them it was working, through the showroom window would be ideal... Resisting temptation we set off for Guemene with the chance of a decent nights sleep. Such optimism...

To be fair, the van ran like a rolex, the miles floated by and it was astonishingly frugal too. Something to do with Gerwyns preferred cruising speed being around 60 MPH. Still, the day passed tolerably and by night fall we were in Brittany. Of course if something is going to happen it will happen at night when you are cold, sure enough, we had come off the motorway to find fuel and, the van gave a little splutter then died.

When it comes to breaking down there are places and places. This was smack next to an itinerant camping place, they had clocked the van failing and were on to it like terriers on a rat. People started emerging from all over, the van would probably have been a bare bodyshell in half an hour. Never has a tow rope been attached so quickly, we were out of there in under 4 minutes. Fortunately, I had bought a device called a solo tow which allows you to tow a broken down car like it's a trailer. We stopped up the road an attached that in record time.

A late night nightmare drive up narrow lanes and we were at Guemene for some sleep. Morning dawned and time to investigate, bonnet up and, sure enough yet another tensioner pulley had let go. This was getting tedious... Best get the vehicle back to Wales for serious investigations then. First off a tow up to St Malo, quicker and simpler than calling in the recovery firm. The van had already been booked on as a "large trailer" which was a lot cheaper than booking on as two vans, that's something to note for the future. A quick call was made to the RAC letting them know I would be on the early morning ferry. A quiet night, a decent meal, and a recovery truck waiting in the morning. Vehicle back in Wales and investigations could commence.

The overall issue came all the way back to the mechanic who originally changed the pump belt. For some reason he decided to fit the new camshaft without any oil seals. This had allowed oil to weep out of the cam and on to the nylon adjuster pulley which had broken up causing the problem. Might be an idea to check the rest of his work then. The cam belt was barely hanging on, the water pump,which he assured me was fine,was showing signs of leaking and failure. That was two things that would have potentially destroyed the whole engine. I had a lucky escape,time to take everything off and sort the whole job again from scratch.

I said early on, trying to save money is often a very expensive way of doing a job, how right I was.

Still at least, it's all done now, nearly a year has passed since we set off on that fateful holiday of a lifetime. We have already planned how to mark the anniversary, we are loading the van up, heading for the ferry and going to do it all again. Hopefully it will take less than a year to write that up.

Don't call me grampy....

So yesterday there was a major event in the town next door. Errant builders managed to put a trench through the main power lead supplying half the town. This meant a sudden outbreak of darkness and powerlessness in a household where the step grandchild,  child of Serenity does not go to bed with the light off.

This of course required a night at nanny's, herself being most pleased to come home from uni to find a child just arrived and delighted to see her.

As far as I can see this child knows only one word "Nanny" and has limitless energy which is usually devoted to something she should not really be doing.

The only way we eventually got her to bed was by turning the lights off everywhere else.

She takes up over half the bed, and at least when she fell asleep she stopped talking. Yes she stopped talking and started snoring.

Pity the poor step grandfather, shoved into a miniscule part of the bed, perched trying not to fall out whilst being deafened by snoring at a volume that would have a ZZtop fan complaining at the din.

It was like sleeping in a concrete mixer, that was still running.

Don't call me grampy, grumpy is a far better description.

Must be the state of the moon....

Not having posted for a long time, I'm on a bit of a roll so lets write a bit more. 

 

I had a propeprly strange Saturday night a few weeks ago but to learn of that read on. 

 

Just a normal Saturday night in town but no there was something in the water, the town was infected with something.

The proto pensioner which is me was  working security at a private function in town.  It was a  60th birthday, what could possibly go wrong?

Well mid evening some guy  drunk and falling over and upsetting people (not me or one of my mates)  I was just debating going in and grabbing this fella to chuck him out and the likely shouty shouty fighty fighty repercussions of engaging with that.  when another drunk tried to barge in past me on the door,  a bit of a scuffle ensued and  out he went. 

One of our actual regulars, was  inside being a total nob and getting quite aggressive .

 

Another who has serious MH issues was in the grip of something dark and sinister and needed to be watched all the time. With his meds, he should not  be drinking and he was  errr drinking like they were about to reintroduce prohibition. Not good.

Meanwhile Dylan the local Romeo, (names changed to protect the guilty) was  trying to get off with everything, up to and including the pool table and since there is no pool table that was quite impressive.

By now  the idiot who had a tussle with me was at the back door where the owner, had popped outside for a fag. Glad I went out there when i did as I had  to separate them, the quiet and unflapable owner was  looking like he was about to smash him one.

While I was dealing with that:  I was concerned at whats happening at the front  door, because of course I was lone working. 

Thinks, Rhys it's time to be realistic, Am I getting to old for this?

Eventually, the evening ends and a couple of people were getting quite bellicose about leaving, the  fact there is no beer left, the bar now being dry  not being an adequate  reason not to have another. A normally quiet bloke was saying very loudly that he would  be  the last to leave with a kind of aggressive edge to it.

I really beginning  to wonder if was time I retired...

 

Place empty doors closed,   escape to my local, (One of),  where the barman was having  a bad  night, in a vile mood find  People have  gone there having left the venue. More of the same....

 

Did I need this? I'm over 60 FFS.

Leave there and there was something major going down on the square. Wander up for an eyeball. Take a bit of heart that the far younger door staff in the both the pubs  closed the doors and locked themselves in.  There  was  a crowd of belligerent people attempting to kick both front doors through.  Noted there was another large party of males in one of the pubs  most of whom were naked.

'

It seems what this the tail end of a rolling battle. Combat was joined not long after we emptied the birthday party  when, a  group of 50 somethings (hmm, not your average local lout then) descended on a bar. The door staff declined admission as they were somewhat inebriated. The situation escalated into fisticuffs and a lady got pushed off the kerb and fell heavily causing an injury.   After  some serious fighting the group decided to retire to the pub next door but one. This pub has a welcoming land lord who very quickly soothed matters to the point where another fight broke out.

Then followed  the final stage on the square where I walked in. The little crowd could not decide where to have a fight next so they solved the quandary by kicking off in two pubs at the same time.

 

I really have to ask myself whether I am too old for this sort of excitement. 

 

Most of the time our little town is a quiet little place - this is quite out of character. 

 

It  must have been the state of the moon.

But it's all right nooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwww

.

The holiday of a lifetime.....

For many many years the management had yearned for holidays further afield, Newton, our trusty T4 van had indeed been bought for that very purpose. To go wandering around Europe. Things had not worked out like that and the most it had done in 5 years was a bit of pottering around Brittany and Britain. Against this background planning began for the big trip. Big it was going to be by our standards too. A trip to Santander then 10 days driving back up to Roscoff, covering the whole length of France from North Spain. Almost immediately things went wrong.

As detailed previously, things have not been going well for Newton of late. With money being tight almost everything has gone to the bottom of the to do list. A slow puncture dealt with by putting a tyre pump in the cab an oil leak ignored, everything deferred. Playing mechanical catch up, lists of jobs got done, tyres were replaced, the back of the van reconfigured, this was frantic stuff with money still in short supply.

Key to all this was changing the cam belt, a key component and needing change every 80 thousand miles or so it's a measure of how long we have had the van that this is the second cambelt it has had in it's time with us. To save money (often a very expensive course of action) a local mechanic who advertises as being mobile was selected for the job. This was the beginning of a tale of real misery, VW's are not massively complex but they are not simple either, herin began a tale of incompetence and woe. The Mobile Mechanic increasingly lost till - having started the job in April, our departure date in October was upon us and the van was still running like a sack of shovels.

With just hours to go before the ferry sailed it was time to re think, en route to the ferry lived a guy who reckoned he had access to all the toys for setting up a VW and sure enough he did. The van was running like a Rolex and off we set on adventure bent.

Of course the original plan had had to be rewritten and now we started the trip coming ashore in St Malo Brittany, Spain was going to be a leisurely drive down the West Atlantic Coast away. Being tight, I had elected to avoid the roads with tolls. This meant you got to see the real France, lovely drive through tiny towns and villages with many things to see and buildings to look at. With the Loire behind us, our first proper stop off was La Rochelle. This proved a bit of a disappointment, I had forgotten the place had been knocked about a bit during the war, it just felt very touristy and a bit 50's. That said, the twin towers that guard the harbour entrance are pretty spectacular.

With night drawing on we made our way South and out of town down to La Royan. The coastline is truly spectacular with lovely beaches that almost smell of the wealth of those who live there. We paupers in our scruffy old VW traveled on till we lost the light then pulled over in a layby for the night. France has this amazing system of aires, places where truckers and people with a camper van can pull in and rest up any hour of the day or night. Completely free they are a product of a country with miles of roads and big distances. This one was pretty basic and, actually I strongly suspect it was a dogging site. But hell we cannot get it right every time. Getting it right occasionally would be good....

 It was a mild morning when we woke, well mild for us mountain folk, I suspect the locals thought it was pretty Brrrrrrrr. Back on the road we headed South, still staying off the peyage we took our time over the day. Driving through France is an interesting experience watching the architecture slowly transform as you drive south into something more recognizably Mediterranean. Being tight (as I already said) we were driving through villages and towns on the perfectly decent A roads, avoiding the motorways (and paying) whilst seeing far more of the countryside than we might otherwise do.

By mid afternoon we were still a long way from the destination Carcasonne. So, taking the map in hand I decided it was time to find the motorway, the bank card and cover some kilometers. Light had gone when we rolled into Carcasonne and spectacular it was too, a floodlight fortress on a hill. We rolled into a desolate paid for aire for camping cars, should have stuck to the free ones. We were paying for less facilities than the free site on the motorway!! But anyway it was a nice night in our little mobile bedroom.

 If you have never been to Carcasonne, you have missed out, the place is truly spectacular it was an easy days worth and worth every penny. A truly unforgettable medieval city all within it's own walls. Not have been the subject of WW2 it has not been knocked to hell either. A bigger contrast with La Rochelle was not possible - I loved it. A little aside, the events described here happened nearly a year ago, it has taken that long to write this. The reasons are about to unfold.

 As we drove down the hill from the medieval town things, if I was honest were going swimmingly well, too well. Rolling up at a set of traffic lights the van developed a curious rattle then the engine died. I knew immediately what was wrong, having pushed the van up the street slightly, around the corner into a side street it was time to review the situation. Break out the tools, What tools? Using the one 13mm spanner, which was all we had, I managed to get some covers off and sure enough, the fuel pump drive belt was slopping around uselessly, the tensioner had snapped. Still things could be worse I could be broken down in the South of France with no breakdown cover. Quickly phoning my insurer, before they went home, would set wheels in motion as it were. Or not, they claimed I had cancelled all my insurances for the van and it was currently uninsured. So I had been driving round for 6 months confident that I had insurance but I hadn't. That was pretty much it... Quickly re instating my insurance, been with this firm since forever, I said I had called because I was broken down, I needed recovery. Well, they said, they were happy to accept the mistake, take my money and re instate road cover, because that gave them money, they would not however renew the breakdown cover as that involved their money. Quite a discussion ensued and, eventually we were abandoned by the side of the road.

Time to take in some situational thoughts, South of France is a lovely place with some islands of deep economic deprivation. We had found one. This was a very poor community and full of people who did not look too friendly. The van was going no further so our only option was to stay put and camp on the street overnight. A cool morning after a night spent snoozing with the maglite in my hand.

Next day take stock of situation, over the road was a garage, not a VW specialist but it had to be a start. Le Patron was a welcoming chap and assured me I was seriously in luck, his head fitter had much experience of VW diesel engines and would take but a little time to discover the root of the problem and rectify it. Very soon the transporter was pushed the short distance into his garage, the bonnet was opened and investigations commenced. I'm not sure when my suspensions got aroused, but, this guy when knew all about VW diesels started with a few problems like opening the bonnet. This was followed by some wandering round the engine room, then lots of covers came off, with some hammering and banging and puzzled looks. So the next thing was an announcement, there was a serious issue, the timing marks on the cam pulley had been obliterated. I was getting suspicious, did this guy really know what he was doing? In my best french I explained the the patron, the reason why he could not find the camshaft timing marks was because there wern't any. The marks he was looking for were on the crankshaft and the fuel pump. There were no marks on the cam. This prompted some serious researching on the internet, and much head scratching. A laptop and code reader were produced, maybe we were getting somewhere now. The master mechanic began dismantling the glove box, hmmm maybe I could help? He was connecting the computer, he said, right, I said, but why was he looking in the glove box for the terminal which on VW's is on the steering column (tough question I admit). Had he really "done lots of these before" I wondered under my breath. The computer was connected, numbers came up on the screen and finally a pronouncement was made, the fuel pump timing was out. It had taken the master mechanic and his computer all morning to conclude what I had concluded in 20 minutes by the side of the road aided by my one 13 mm spanner. Still, best shut up, don't annoy him Rhys.

 With, at last the fault identified, proper work could commence, well, after dinner it might. The management and I retired to a local Italian where, a few glasses of wine and a decent meal might improve my humour. After lunch things seemed a lot more purposeful, timing marks were found, things aligned with other things a French technical website with many photographs was studied intently. Eventually things were all in alignment and, with a triumphant look the starter was engaged and....... Nothing, lots of cranking there were no brum brum engine running noises. Much head scratching and, head disappeared under the bonnet again. Waiting till the master mechanic was on his laptop again, I went to have a look. I suggested to him that the issue was belt tension, it was all very well aligning the pump to the engine but unless the drive belt was tight, the moment the starter turned the engine the pump would drop out of alignment and the engine would not start. This prompted further head scratching and another attempt to align the pump with the engine. This in turn produced another attempt to start the engine and still the engine declined to function. Several more attempts at this and the battery was flat.

This prompted a major crisis, his computer screen was now crammed with error codes. Time for some serious research, while he was away i thought I might as well take a look myself. Removing his computer connection I produced my little generic code reader, plugged it in and had a look. He was right of course, there was a mass of engine fault codes, nearly every sensor on the vehicle was reporting low voltage, almost as if the battery was flat. This had now entered the stage of farce. So, with the battery charging away, I said nothing, but used my little machine to clear all the fault codes, checked again, with the battery now delivering 12 V none of the sensors were reporting any issues. Say nothing reconnect his terminal and lets wait and see.

After a decent pause the master mechanic went to le patron and they both advanced on me. The situation was grave, there were a massive range of serious problems with the vehicle, it was highly likely the engine management computer itself had failed. That sounded serious, I said, could they show me? Of course they could, I was invited over to the bench to look at the laptop and see the plethora of faults that were being reported. Keeping a straight face but trying to look concerned I went to look, the machine was switched on, the fault finding programme was run the screen beeped and bopped and then came back with - no fault codes. There was consternation, a few minutes before the screen had been filled with faults and now, by some miracle they had gone!

The issue now was how to get the vehicle out of there, it was anyway late afternoon and getting close to time to close the garage. The local VW main agent was contacted, it was agreed the vehicle could be taken over there in the morning, having paid the garage quite a lot of money for doing nothing, management and I settled for the night by the side of the road again. It was time for some contingency planning.

Today was Thursday, if the VW agent could not repair the vehicle the next day, things would be grave, management needed to be back in the UK for work, Monday morning. A trip to Macdonalds was needed, over coffee we used their free internet connection to review our options. How could we get out of this impasse?

The most likely outcome was that the VW garage would know what they were doing, quickly identify the fault get the right part and we would be on our way in the morning. That would be the story for tomorrow.

Or maybe something else. (to be continued)