Of Mice and Men

WE are slightly unhappily wending our way to Swindon through an endless 50 mph limit stretch of the M4 in the Fella’s Discovery, when a warning light appears. It’s an orange brake light warning but there’s no additional fault information showing on the little green-lit panel, which seems to exist mostly as a harbinger of bad news. We have grown to expect more than merely a warning light from the Discovery; it’s normally far more didactic.

I consult the handbook which lists three possibilities, all of which relate to the brakes, with each sounding incrementally more costly than the last.

It feels rather dramatic when driving a vehicle in which nothing appears functionally wrong. At this point down the M4, we are pretty committed to Swindon and we reason that we wouldn’t actually know if anything was wrong on an older vehicle without warning lights.

We somewhat cautiously proceed, especially as this stretch has been made into one of those controversial and poorly-named smart motorways.

Back in London without incident, the Fella phones a friend who is a bus mechanic. He recommends an independent mechanic – Mark – who owns one of those all-important electronic automotive diagnostic machines.

The next day, we head to an unremarkable suburban street, and the Fella parks up, dropping the keys through the letterbox of a designated home. We make our way back in the Lightweight, the Fella vociferously lamenting the dramatic loss in legroom that characterises older models of the Land Rover fleet.

We discuss the fate of his Discovery. It has already become something of an inconvenience, given that he now has to pay £12.50 to drive it inside London’s North Circular Road, thanks to the ULEZ expansion scheme. If this brake light signifies expensive work, I suggest it may be worth parting company with it.

“But I like it. It’s a great vehicle,” the Fella replies, rather mournfully. “And I’ve just put three new tyres on it!”

He outrightly rejects my (generous) offer of putting him on my insurance, as the Lightweight’s ‘historic’ status renders it Ulez-exempt. It’s not just about the legroom, he is accustomed to Land Rover’s more luxurious offerings and can’t see the joy in driving a Series III lacking any creature comforts. Personally, I have zero attachment to his Discovery, never having forgiven it for leaving me shamefully stranded and causing an offensive obstruction in rush-hour traffic when the electric handbrake failed.

The next morning, Mark phones with his verdict, which is issued through the loudspeaker of the Fella’s phone. “So, I linked it up to the diagnostics and straightaway it came up with an insane number of faults,” he says. The Fella and I exchange concerned looks. “And it was ridiculous, like 42 faults or something, and I thought no car of this age could have that many faults.”

A list of faults sounds very much like the norm to me, but the Lightweight is 29 years older than the Discovery.

“So, I thought maybe there was an issue with the wiring and felt around the back of the engine and found a whole load of grey fluff and stuff and, well, it seems to me that you’ve had a rodent nesting in there,” he says. “A rodent?” we chorus, incredulous. He chuckles. “It looks like that to me. And it’s probably had a bit of a go at the wires. Have you left it standing recently for a while?”

The answer is a resounding no. Not only is the Discovery used multiple times each week, it has also made a great many reasonably long-distance domestic excursions this year.

“I had a feel around but it’s really hard to access all the wiring and you’ll probably need all the electrics looking at in the long-term,” Mark says. “But, in the short-term, I’ve done a reset to clear the faults and I’d advise that you drive it like an old granny for a while, to see if you get any further warning lights. If, after 50 miles or so, nothing comes up, you should be good to go.”

We motor over to pick up the Discovery that afternoon. Mark is at home this time and delights me with his enthusiasm for the Lightweight which, of course, overshadows the Discovery and its suspected rodent’s nest.

The Fella interrupts to ask a few questions about the wiring and also what the Discovery may need doing in the longer-term. Mark says he would have loved to have undertaken the work but, unfortunately, his independent business was a victim of the government’s response to Covid-19.

He couldn’t afford to pay the lease so had to give up his own garage and is preparing to sell off his tools and equipment, while working full-time at another garage. Another self-employed victim of pandemic-related policies.

I ask if he might consider at least re-riveting the roof of the Lightweight, which is now letting in water at a series of points that I have marked out with crosses in indelible marker pen.

He apologies that he is currently without tools, and too busy now as a full-time employee to take on any extra jobs. It’s really a shame as he seems like a great guy, who charged next to nothing for having deployed his diagnostic machine.

Still laughing about the rodent’s nest, we bid our farewells and drive off, a little two-vehicle Land Rover convoy. The Discovery has been given a reprieve, at least temporarily.

“I linked it up to the diagnostics and it came up with an insane number of faults, like 42 or something, no car of this age could have”