The M1 is a Cruel Mistress
Monday, April 28th, 2008
I didn’t sleep too well last night what with all the excitement at the prospect of finally getting my hands on a load of genuine English Rose. I was wide awake at about 4am thinking “If I’m this awake now, just imagine how awake I’ll be at 7am after a few hours sleep!”. I woke at 8:30am, dog tired, my plan to try to get to the M1 before the rush hour somewhat compromised.
Actually I made quite good time as it turned out, getting to the M1 in a respectable 25 minutes. With no traffic (starting out just before 7am) I can do it in 15, in the rush hour sometimes 1 1/2 hours, the first half of which is often just driving the 300 yards or so through Harlesden. I guess I just missed the rush hour, so my sloth had paid off.
There are a couple of 50mph restricted sections near the start of the M1 at the moment, but not much to worry about and the traffic was running fairly smoothly till around Newport Pagnell, where it dropped to 50, then 40mph and finally to a standstill.
Knowing my ability to choose the slowest lane in any given traffic conditions I decided to stay exactly where I was, in the fast lane. Except that no one was moving anywhere. I remember thinking that the car in front was emitting a lot of exhaust … er no – wait a minute, that’s steam and it’s coming from underneath my own bonnet! What’s more the needle on the temperature gauge was politely hammering at the end stop.
I switched off the engine and considered my options. I was just parallel to the end of a turn off so I indicated and luckily the truck driver to my left took pity on my plight and let me go. The driver in the outside lane wasn’t so forgiving at my driving at right angles to the flow of traffic so I had to be a bit pushy, but with just a minimal amount of off road skill I made it onto the slip road.
I set about finding a mechanic to take a look and I noticed that as I sped up, the temperature went down. In fact, not unlike the movie Speed, as long as I stayed above 50mph everything seemed to be OK. Clearly this wasn’t a tactic I could maintain for long. I pulled into a gas station and called Ray to see if she knew whether her AAA (American Automobile Association) covered her in the UK as she thought it might, then while she was looking managed to find a mechanic on my own, who told me that it was probably the thermostat that had gone.
To cut a painful story short, I called Al in Leeds to let him know I couldn’t make it, turned round and came home with one eye on the road, one on the temperature. I sincerely apologise to the driver of the white van (you won’t hear that phrase too often!) that I cut up while turning onto the North Circular, but I wasn’t able to slow down for fear of the head gasket blowing.
I took it to Farouk, who told me that as a result of the thermostat going (price around £15) the radiator had cracked and would need replacing (price around £350).
M1 1 – English Rose 0



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