The penny drops – and drops, and drops…
You may have deduced from my recent
Our Classics news updates that the hours I haven’t spent discharging my duties on CCW have been devoted to the business of moving house.
There I was on The Big Day, watching our stuff being loaded into a removals lorry, when the penny suddenly dropped. We had five cars to get to our new house – and only four drivers.
As soon as we arrived at the new house, then, I had to cadge a lift back to the old house – whose new occupants were already busy moving in – so I could collect PCB.
Another penny dropped when I got behind the wheel and turned the key – it started immediately, but the fuel gauge appeared to be broken. Then a chilling thought occurred to me – maybe the gauge was just fine. Bother. And the nearest petrol station was three miles away. Double bother.
Cue a saucer-eyed game of chicken with the laws of physics – in the dark and rush-hour traffic. I did everything I could to preserve my remaining teaspoon of fuel, from drafting lorries to feathering the throttle, all the while trying to banish nightmarish visions of the MG conking out on a roundabout.
For once, though, the old boy took pity on me and delivered us to unleaded redemption without so much as a warning cough.
However, there was a final penny waiting to drop after I’d swilled a record amount of petrol into the tank – I rarely drive the Midget after dark, so the cruise to our new home was quite a revelation. The halogen headlights I had fitted a couple of years ago to replace the original sealed beams are superb, but the accompanying backlighting to the Smiths dials is utterly woeful. Time for an upgrade, I think – LEDs, maybe?
It’s in there somewhere – the Midget spent weeks incarcerated in its garage by packing boxes.