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An escape from car-related calamity
Aug. 26th, 2009 10:50 pmOn the way up to the Dark Door summer barbecue last weekend, a wrong turn resulted in a short stop to check the map, at which point I screamed at S to turn the engine off now. Smoke appeared to be coming from under the bonnet.
It turned out to be steam. Damn. Radiator leak? A judgement call... Engine temperature not yet critical, so I limped the car the remaining half a mile to the hotel carpark and called Green Flag. And discovered I'd only bought roadside assistance instead of recovery. That's what comes of getting blasé because we do less than 4,000 miles a year. Ooops.
"Radiator leak? Nothing we can do, which garage do you want it taken to?" says the man on the phone. But he's persuaded to send a blokey up to check it out, and it turns out to be the top radiator hose, split at the engine end probably due to a slight oil leak from the distributor cap. He chops off an inch and a half, refastens it, refills, and it looks like we've dodged the bullet, caught it before any serious overheating, no new radiator or towing costs or writing the car off due to blown head gasket. (It wouldn't be worth getting fixed.)
I also don't have to find time to get it sorted before this weekend, thank you Fortuna! We're going to Arundel for a couple of days, the excuse being to see an ex-colleague of Simon's playing Hermia on the Saturday night, and the car is more convenient. Easier to remain plan-free for the back end of the bank holiday.
Mind you, now no excuse to swap the car for something else. This Mazda Imola (jumped-up-323-with-spoiler) just isn't practical for most things I need out of a car. Primarily to use as a mobile storage trunk for riding gear, and to go to the garden centre. A slopey hatchback is highly unsuited to being a shrub taxi.
It turned out to be steam. Damn. Radiator leak? A judgement call... Engine temperature not yet critical, so I limped the car the remaining half a mile to the hotel carpark and called Green Flag. And discovered I'd only bought roadside assistance instead of recovery. That's what comes of getting blasé because we do less than 4,000 miles a year. Ooops.
"Radiator leak? Nothing we can do, which garage do you want it taken to?" says the man on the phone. But he's persuaded to send a blokey up to check it out, and it turns out to be the top radiator hose, split at the engine end probably due to a slight oil leak from the distributor cap. He chops off an inch and a half, refastens it, refills, and it looks like we've dodged the bullet, caught it before any serious overheating, no new radiator or towing costs or writing the car off due to blown head gasket. (It wouldn't be worth getting fixed.)
I also don't have to find time to get it sorted before this weekend, thank you Fortuna! We're going to Arundel for a couple of days, the excuse being to see an ex-colleague of Simon's playing Hermia on the Saturday night, and the car is more convenient. Easier to remain plan-free for the back end of the bank holiday.
Mind you, now no excuse to swap the car for something else. This Mazda Imola (jumped-up-323-with-spoiler) just isn't practical for most things I need out of a car. Primarily to use as a mobile storage trunk for riding gear, and to go to the garden centre. A slopey hatchback is highly unsuited to being a shrub taxi.
