Roads to Joy

The MOT inspector followed me and Harry Hymer into the inspection bay. ‘That’s an immediate fail,’ he opined, as matter-of-fact as you please. ‘Your brake light’s off.’

I know Harry’s been through the wars, and this particular side end has had an unfortunate encounter with our own little Fiat Panda as it scraped out around the corner into our drive. So the rear light panel had cracked and come off. I’d fastened it back with stout gaffer tape, but hadn’t checked the working tail lights. The brake light must have been damaged in the altercation.

‘But I’ve got spare bulbs!’ I was quick to remonstrate, and the inspector’s retort was just as fast: ‘Put it in, then, and be quick about it, so we can get on with the inspection.’ I peeled the tape off, undid the remaining screws holding the light assembly, and tried to fathom not only how to get the offending bulb out, but which one it might be. The inspector kindly helped me identify the faulty bulb by checking which one on the other side worked when I pumped the brake pedal. So I replaced the bulb and we tried again.

No light. ‘But wait, maybe I didn’t get it inserted right — it was a bit of a palaver.’ And I squished and pushed and felt I had that much better of an electrical contact, before we tried again. The shout of ‘Yeah, that’s working’ from the rear was the first relief of the inspection. And the inspector gave me a couple holding screws to secure the broken-off side too.

The next relief came from the pass on braking function, and another from the inspection of the jackpoints which had been welded extensively to pass last year’s MOT. But the front wheel wells were beginning to go; flakes of metal were peeling off like flayed onion skins. ‘This will have to be replaced with good steel, welded in, before the next MOT,’ he said, ‘And I don’t want to do it until summer when it’s dry.’ So far so good then, especially since it wasn’t going to fail just now.

The windscreen wipers needed new blades, but that was a simple matter of picking and choosing, and they were good to go. The inspector mused aloud whether Harry Hymer shouldn’t have top running lights at the rear, as all tall vehicles were now required to evidence their stately presence. So they’re on order too. It will be a simple matter to connect red LED lamps to the light circuit, I should think, and affix them up in the rear corners with special Sikaflex adhesive. Another lovely job for clement weather.

And that was that: job done, MOT passed, and the drive back home in a kind of subsiding relief. We can get out and about in the old motorhome again, maybe head to the Isle of Whithorn and the Steam Packet Inn on the harbour which has a free, overnight parking area for customers at the pub. When Storm Eowyn dies down, of course.

The advisories are up, in stern red warnings, and I’ve just had a loud alarm message from the . . . from whom? It’s like a universal text message alerting everyone with a mobile phone of the ‘danger of life’ warnings attendant on the high winds. We may well have power outages. Good thing then that I hooked up our new generator to an indoor socket, against such vicissitudes. We can keep fridges and freezer functioning, and even avail ourselves of the telly and internet, if it’s functioning, while the surrounding region’s power is being restored.

So one sigh of relief, and one uptake of breath before the storm hits. We shall see what the morning brings, but for now, as Harry Hymer is sheltered between house and hedge, deep in our protected garden, we should all ride out the winds with reasonable aplomb.