So here is the tale of the leaking fuel tank! I thought I'd bring you up to date with a few events from the recent past as they were, as usual for us, quite eventful !!!
Breaking down is something I seem to have brought you up to believing, that it is a perfectly normal part of travelling. From your very first trip in 1989, yes you were just 6 months old, we spent our first day inside a garage at a country town called Barcellos, where we had proceeded to freewheel down the very steep hill into town without any breaks!!! The town was alive with a bustling market, which we saw from the inside of a garage. A familiar place for us as many trips and many garages have been leading us up to the most recent visit to the repair man and a stay in a garage.
We arrived at Biarritz knowing that we had a developing problem and had decided to head to France to tackle the issue. Which was a steady drip of fuel from the tank. What we didn't know as we drove through the streets of Biarritz was that the problem had become worse and there was now a steady stream of diesel leaving our ancient, rusty tank. This we found out in Anglet Carrefour's carpark!! As we stopped to get some supplies in a supermarket you may well remember.
With a bowl under the dribble, we pondered what to do. It was around 5 oclock in the evening by the time the breakdown lorry turned up, a nice lad who would take us to the local Mercedes garage in Bayonne. It was Monday 7th May, Bank Holiday in Britain. We arrived at the garage just as it was closing and guess what, the french take the Tuesday off, not the Monday, so we were to spend two nights in the charming location picture above! Here, we drained the remaining fuel out of our tank, into a 25 litre water bottle. To siphon, one sucks until fluid starts to flow then spits out any excess in one's mouth. This I did all over your mothers trousers, much to her surprise!! But at least we had stopped the leak and now could settle in to our new camp spot and try to relax.
Tuesday was a good day with exploring the neighbourhood taking up most of the afternoon. A long walk along the river bank, past a collapsed bridge and on into Bayonne centre.
It's a fine old town is Bayonne, So typically French you expect to find a guillotine around the next corner. We only find other tourists enjoying the heady atmosphere of the approaching storm. Will it strike before we get back to the van? Well no, fortunately. We made it just in time.
So Wednesday arrives and we enter the garage compound where we are allowed to stay until our new tank can be found and fitted. We are parked amongst the lorries and are allowed to come and go as we please until 6 oclock in the evening when the compound is locked up until the following day! A strange feeling, to be all alone in a large Mercedes garage in the sweltering heat.
The tarmac soaked up the days sunshine and kept it in the high 30's for most of the night. The lorries towering over us not allowing any air flow, suffocating is a word that comes to mind !
But we made the most of it, using the motorbike in the daytime to visit old haunts, including Lafetenia and the beach where we three swam and sunbathed at a few years earlier. It was a heat wave and swimming was a great relief. Well done that motorbike.
In the daytime, we had access to the garages toilets and showers, they were really very hospitable, tres gentile.
We waited until Saturday before the part arrived. First thing, at 8 am, we entered the garage and the new tank was fitted under my usual watchful eye !!!
Well, you have to keep an eye on things when you are paying 60 euros an hour labour rates !! and anyway, I always like to lend a hand whenever possible. We meet all sorts of lovely people under our van! This lad lives in the Pyrenees mountains and commutes to Bayonne to work, lovely chap.
His boss was keen to help too and didn't mind getting his hands dirty. He too was a good man.
Here he is bleeding the fuel system, not that I can't do it but people in garages do like to take charge and letting them get on with it seems the easiest way. I watch and tell him what to do !
The engine fires up straight away and I jump for joy
What joy
To be freeeeee again and able to continue our travels until the next time
Running wild, aiming high. Without a care, I sometimes cry
Ever so shy, ever so brave. Playing around like there is no grave.
Much like me but so very young. So many things you've not yet done.
This is the beginning, starting out. Fly up high, cruise all about.
Sounds familiar?
Until the next blog
lots of love
Dad n Mum ( who is about to read through this blog now and tell me what's what ! )
xxxxx
She says it's fine so I can post it now xxxxxxx
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