It is rather good here, even as I write this managements mum is chatting to her next to me. Nothing in that of course, but these visits are a source of such discomfort, panic and mayhem that I really get to enjoy her plight.
It had been an eventful week as it is, management started the week by washing her credit cards, not such a problem, they didn't do too well in the tumble drier though. this has produced significant financial peace for he who still has a bank card....
But I digress, RSOLES, no not some strange sexual fetish but the Bedford R Series Owners Lovers and Enthusiasts Society. Founded by Greasy Steve, Pyro Payne and me an Rsoles do was always the start of mayhem.
So anyway last Sunday, a bright and breezy day, down the drive came biker Phill. This seemed a perfect time to prepare the fire engines for the new gardening season. Taking Fishguard Belle, up the drive we went, it had been a long time since the crew had done anything so forsaking our usual hydrant we headed for the river. This is a typical RSOLE thing all starts sounding an OK idea and finishes in mayhem....
This was a big lift, 4 lengths of rigid suction and about 20 foot to raise water. The pump was drawing big numbers on the vaccum gauge and all was going well - or so we thought.....
With the fire engine full and spewing out water it was time to haul in the heavy hoses and put it all away. Much sweating later and we set out to reverse out and head for home. This of course is where it all started. One of the less good things about the Green Goddess is the siting of the coil. Tucked behind the engine it seldom gets wet but it's allways warm and subject to full engine vibration. Coils don't like this sort of thing and of course ours took this as it's chance to sulk. Of course I didn't realise this at the time and assumed it was a rerun of the overfueling problem that features in the "if only everything was as reliable as a bedford" clip on you tube.
Fortunately, I managed to roll it back off the road and a major incident was avoided. Off to the pub and phone home for reinforcements to whit the management and the Iveco. Having placated her with beer we went back with the Iveco to attempt repair. Shackling on a second battery did nothing to improove matters, the starter was fair whizing round but sparks were there none.
Still suspecting over fueling we decided to leave it a weee while. Soooo about an hour later back we came to find a small crowd had gathered. Just the point you don't want it to be refusing a jump so obviously.
With the dizy stripped we still had nothing in the sparks department so back together it all went. Best go back and get another GG and drag it home.
Just at that moment arrived the local farmer, on his way to check his fields, well he would have had there not been a rather large green obstacle with a big orange stripe, in his way.
He was pretty impressed with the goddess and took no persuading to go and get his tractor since neither I (Iveco turbo daily) Phil (Jeep) nor he (land rover) fancied seeing what happens when you try to tow a GG full of water (7500KG easy) with their respective trucks.
He went off to get is tractor not long before his mother arrived. She was altogether less impressed and demanded we move the truck, not quite seeming to understand that we would be more delighted than her if it could be persuaded to move at all.
But anyway back came yon farmer and we pulled the GG across the road a little before switching the tow to the front and starting the long drag home.
GG's are nothing if not gregarious and dragging it a few feet with the clutch out in second was enough to persuade the belle to fire up and run like a rolex.
Unfortunately the horn on the belle is not as reliable so I had to resort to the musical horns to get his attention. With the hitch dropped it was time to head for home.
Now of course home was about 600 foot higher and of course the truck was fully loaded and the day was hot and we had stripped the engine covers were all off to get at the engine. Hot is just not one of those words adequate to describe living in that cab. Sitting in a steaming hot gale I started the long process of climbing home.
Everything went well until the belle decided it did not like high range and refused to stay in it poping repeatedly into neutral.
This was really starting to feel like fun. What else could happen to make my joy complete?
Well, at this stage one of the plug leads fell off so now we only had five cylinders.
Fortunately (?????????) this happened very close to home and I had not very far to limp to get the stricken beast back to base.
Phil of course had been back a while by the time I stuttured across the field
Refitted the lead and decided my boat needed a wash......
Thats it then another typical day in the RSOLE
PS. Since then no one son hes decided FB does not look good enough and has stripped most of the paint off the front. Next job - get the paint brush.
R
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