Roads to Joy

Our Harry Hymer, beloved classic Hymermobile of 1997 vintage, went in for its MOT last week, and failed. The issue was the accumulating rust around both front jack points, indicated on a 2020 model above. The integrity of the support structure was totally compromised, and it was not at all out of the realm of possibility that Harry was doomed.

We’d had extensive welding on the front frame sides, in the past, as well as a replacement cross-member just behind the bumper, holding the radiator and fan assembly, but this rust went far beyond that earlier repair. We did feel a sense of despair.

The first welder we contacted, or who our friendly MOT inspector contacted on our behalf, reacted rather bitterly about the proposed work: ‘It’s completely rusted out, the front, and it’s a terrible job to be doing, and I’m far too busy to even look at it.’ The second welder did not seem to be open for business any longer, though he occupied another MOT station on the same industrial estate outside of Dumfries, an hour from us. Our friendly MOT inspector suggested, however, that we leave a note in the closed welder’s mailbox, and hope he’d get back.

He did! He welcomed us to return this week, so he could assess the damage, and repair sufficiently so that Harry might pass the re-inspection. Now Harry Hymer’s road tax had expired at the end of December, so there was only one bona fide rationale for having our ancient motorhome out on the road: travelling with the specific purpose, and with a pre-arranged appointment, for an MOT inspection. Whew! We could do that again, especially if the corollary was a welding repair.

Trembling with worry, I embarked again on a cold and chilly morning, arriving at the destination with frozen fingers and toes, but delighted not to have been stopped. Minutes later, the welder/MOT inspector pulled up and we eased Harry Hymer onto the big vehicle lift. Straining to hoist the laden motorhome up into the air, the lift did its job and seconds later we were underneath, peering at the damage.

The way tradesmen suck their teeth, you know, always means the next words are going to be expensive, and so it turned out. That was the prosaic bad news. The poetic good news, joyful to my ears, was that he could fix the issue, with some serious angle-grinding and removal of the rusted parts, a strong welding approach and new 3mm steel, after which he’d issue a Pass MOT certificate and Harry would legitimately be back on the road. Just a matter of the readies, as it turned out.

Given that the alternative could have been to be ‘motorhomeless’ as it were, with our grand touring ambitions for the next decade dashed, we were eager to shake his hand and agree the terms. ’Are you sure that Harry will make it through the next decade?’ I asked him. ’My welding, mate, will outlast the rest of this vehicle by a decade anyway. Besides, I love doing this sort of work.’ So that was that then.

The job was engaged, and with sighs of relief between us, my beloved on the other end of the phone and me, I set off on my long bus journey home.

It may have been an hour’s drive away to the new welder’s workshop, but it was three bus routes returning. I set off to catch the first bus at 10:30, arriving at the bus stop by 10:45, and then waited until 11:25 for the bus to appear. Would the next connections take so long? In Dumfries bus centre, the wait was only about 10 minutes for the bus to Castle Douglas, and on arrival there only another 5 before the final bus on to our little village of New Galloway. I was home by 1:40pm, chilled to the bone but safe and sound.

In another week or so, when we expect the welding to be complete, and Harry Hymer to be officially back on the road, I shall aim to make the return bus journey to pick our beloved van up again. If it’s really ready, the journey will feel like a doddle, a song of travel towards a goal. Meanwhile, the simple satisfaction of engaging the work, and the hope that it will be accomplished with aplomb, are sufficient to sustain us.

Even when the cost bites, then, there’s still joy to be had in the hope for the future, for the plans ahead. Our cup is more than half-full, but we’ll wait until it overflows before exulting.