Last day but 1...

****First off, apologies.  This was due up a few days ago but I've been a bit lazy.  This isn't an entertaining read.  My notes for this day were crap so it doesn't flow well.  Theres not a lot of it, and I've padded it out a bit with pretty pictures stolen from various sources.  The next update is the last day of the rally and for those of you that know me, the run, or how this finished off, that's goin to be the best of the series.  I promise you that.  Without any further waffling, here goes:*****

OK, so we arrived at the campsite 13 hours late, but we made it before everyone left so I count that as a result.  As we finally pulled into the campsite we got a few folk asking what time we managed to arrive last night.  The answer of we are just arriving now surprised and amused.

We had been in touch with 5 & 0 and knew where they had camped on site with Jon and the hillbillies so headed to the far corner to meet them. 

We stopped by one of the other teams and asked how their night went and without too many details being put on here, it sounds a stormer.  Ice cubes were eaten from places you wouldn't imagine. 

Once we met up with our convoy boys we got a run down of the previous evening.  We were charged about 60p for a pint just inside Prague, but those that went out apparantly got stung for nearly 6 quid a pint.  The return taxi's that should have cost 10 quid or so were being billed at about £40 by the local firms trying to rip off the brits and some of our lot took offence.  A few simply legged it without paying but I understand fisticuffs occured with one unfortunate driver. 

Back at the campsite in the evening various changes of clothes and hiding in tents took place to avoid identification.  Quite a few of the scummers didn't go out and stayed at camp and got drunk instead.  One of the guys next to our convoy from team Add Energy got a little too wasted, tried to climb over a gate that wasn't locked, fell off the top, smashed his face and broke his arm.  By the time we had got there, their team had disappeared - presumably to a local A&E.

Regardless, we were held back from the anticipated leaving time as Ed and co semed to be frantically re-routing us to get out of the Czech republic in the shortest route available to avoid any further issues.  By 10.00 AM the local police had started to gather in strength at the gates of the campsite and it's at this stage that most runners realised they needed tax discs.  Unfortunately, there wasn't a handy place to get them from within a quick walk so myself and 0 collected some cash and trundled off to bulk buy some from a garage a few miles off.  When we returned with them they were handed out and a few other teams trotted off to get theirs and extras for those without.

Alongside the numerous police cars we parked up in bulk awaiting the anticipated aggro.  Surprisingly, none came immediately.  Instead, we seemed to attract the local boy racer in his 15 year old skoda with the blacked out windows and a random middle aged bird who kept filming the cars and occasionally screaming whooooo when an engine was turned on.

At the time of a few leaving, the local filth followed and we know a couple got pulled for no reason so as usual, we hung back and figured out a plan.  That plan was easily figured out as Jon and Kelly were the only ones with a Sat Nav that covered the country.  Plan was as simple as the local woman.  Follow the Volvo.  In the last day or so we had nothing but issues with every car.  Except the sodding little polo.  That thing was bullet proof and as much as we admired their car for holding together, we cursed it.  Bloody little thing.  We left the campsite, got less than a minute away and our prayers seemed to be answered.  The polo broke.  We laughed.  Their exhaust was being dragged along the ground and we thought it might be something major.  It turns out it had just fallen from it's mount and 30 seconds later it was back on and running fine.  That was the only mechanical issue they had all rally and I'm still impressed with that thing.

It seems that Jon and Kelly's satnav in the Volvo is more technical and superior than everyone elses as it not only has the usual avoid toll roads, use main roads where available, shortest route functions etc, it also has an amazing route option of use every bloody potholed, unrepaired, cobbled road available setting.  We were a little shaken in ours, we don't think it did the FTO any favours with their dodgy turning circle, Jo was nearly in tears with an average moving speed of 1mph trying to navigate his low bug to avoid smashing bits off of it, the Volvo was fine and the polo, well that had us laughing again as it appears they hadn't shut their boot properly and as we got onto a busy roundabout, the boot pinged open throwing trainers and various clothing into the paths of traffic.  We caused chaos by simply blocking the roundabout whilst they collected their belongings .

Eventually, we managed to get onto some sensible bits of road and found a McDonalds.  Always a great place to get stared at.

Our next checkpoint was at a place called Euro-Eddies, somewhere in Germany, a parent and child play center some miles away and we made good time along the roads.  We discovered (well the FTO boys did) that the rumble strips were different to ours.  The UK strips make a horrible sound but we got the CB message from them with a cryptic "try the rumble strips - they're great".  So we tried them.  They give off a fantastic noise - a sort of high pitched whirring like a supercharger so many miles were spent weaving on and off the rumble strips.  This confused Hill & Billy as they didn't have  CB so were completely unaware why a series of 4 or 5 cars were drifting onto the white lines and coming back out again quite a lot.  Bless em.

Not far into this stretch of journey, we discovered tunnels.  Big, long tunnels.  With our exhaust, the MX5's ridiculous exhaust and the FTO sounding like a jet fighter normally, those tunnels provided huge entertainment over a few hours.  After a few hours, tunnel running was actually starting to get painful to the ears so we backed off a little. 

We still had a lot of motorway and not a lot of sense so Jo & Dave and 5 & 0 decided to go into childish mode and had a bit of a dogfight.  They disappeared into the horizon with impressive noise but we could still hear them on the CB's.  I think the quote of the trip for me was from 0 talking to Jo...  "I can see this ending one of 2 ways, we either stop now or someone dies".  They pulled into a run off lane and waited for us to catch up. 

We stumbled into a fair bit of traffic and waited patiently without moving very much, inching our way closer to the cause of the problem.  As we were gettissed off we could hear a call on the CB channel for anyone that could hear the message to bring some jubilee clips or similar to the road we were on.  Yup, One of ours had broken down and knackered the German dual carriageway.  Turns out it was the green Audi and I hopped out, gave them a set of cable ties and buggered off. 

Whilst we were trying to help them, those Hillbillies were busy attaching stickers to the back of stopped cars without being spotted.  Hats off lads I was impressed at your subtlety.  I was even more impressed the day after we got home and I found one of their stickers on the back of my car - no idea when they did that.

Once we got into the clear and free we passed a fair few miles and saw a sign for Colditz.  We had lost the volvo and MX5 by this point so only FTO, Polo and ourselves.  It's not really my sort of thing but Gruff's well into his misery type thing so he suggested we g see it.  We checked with the others and made a detour to the castle.  Whilst on said detour we stumbled across a couple of motorcycle cops waiting at a set of traffic lights looking none too impressed at our choice of chariots.  I pulled out the big camera started smiling and waving at them and they cheered up just a little.

It wasn't really until we got to Colditz that we figured out the FTO boys weren't really suitably dressed.  It's not everyday you see a legendary prisoner of war camp whilst in the company of two guys dressed as US fighter pilots. Anyway, we had a wander round, killed an hour or so, then got back on track.  including the detour travel and visting time, I reckon we lost at least a couple of hours.  This was the basis of an argument I had with Gruff a few hours later.

We made it to Euro Eddies and had a couple of pics taken with their mascot.  They were a little reserved with us as at some point during the day, someone had taken their mascot to their car for a quality photo and unfortunately broken it's arm.

We left there and desperately needed fuel.  Our needle had been sat beyond red for 50 miles or so and we were getting a little twitchy.  We found a petrol station in a village that seemed to only have VW's on its roads and most of those were heavily modified.  Whilst there, a local guy in a woody VW Golf identical in every aspect to one owned by Hill, came over and said Hi.  We exchanged pleasantries and gave him one of the flaming scumrun logo's obtained from the official stack a couple of days beforehand.

Leaving there, we set the satnavs for the next checkpoint.  5 & 0 led the charge, the polo behind them and us behind the polo making sure it didn't get lost of forgotten if they broke down.  During this stretch we lost both sight andf radio contact with the FTO and simply hoped the polo guys could see them.  A few minutes later the polo boys turned into a layby so we followed assuming they had spotted the FTO.  No, they just needed a turd.  Fair enough - we all need breaks at times but for some reason Gruff really had the arse on about it costing us time with an unnecesary pit stop and stropped a bit in the car.  His bloody Colditz idea had cost us 2 hours and he's moaning like hell about a 10 minute brownload session.  We got hold of 5 & 0 by phone and found out we had taken a junction they hadn't.  We arranged to meet up with them in another spot a few miles down the road.  After a bit of mucking about we met up with the guys and decided too much time had been lost to hit our 2nd checkpoint so headed straight to camp somewhere in a German forrest / mountain area.

We turned up miserable, late and generally hacked off.  Thankfully we had a taste experience to show our Bristol Hillbillies.  Turns out Billy had never had a pot noodle before and was in love with them.  A swift few beers and it was time for lights out.  We were shattered, grouchy and glad we knew the end was near.

What could possibly go wrong in the journey to Calais tomorrow?

Autobahn's, electrics, rain, titty bars and cheap beer...

It's been a while since we had an update on here and I have been left feeling just a little lazy by the way that both Blind Panic (Volvo T5) and Bugsplat (Mazda MX5) have completed their blogs and I haven't really scratched the surface of our Scumrun hell / heaven.

This could be a long update - Just one day, but what a day!!!



Where did I leave off last time?  Barbecued rat, hannah Montanna plates and a lovely feeling that the world will be alright?  Well, following on from that, we awoke in France in one piece with all our shiny purple dust caps still on and our possesions still where we left them.

Having a sleepy head on, dismantling a tent isn't the easiest of things but can't be that tricky to fold a tent back up and put it in a bag can it?  Well, Gruff bet me a fiver that I couldn't get it broken down and in the bag within 10 minutes.  I took this challenge on and I would like to tell you that the time taken was roughly 3 and a half minutes.  Then I gave Gruff his fiver, had a tantrum, balled it all up and crammed it into the back of the boot tightly.  Sodding thing.  It's at this point that the 2 unshaven technophobes were introduced to me (remember I'm bad at names) who had been camping next to us.  It appears that they had no convoy / friends and would like to join our rolling party of fun.  That party now being made up of ourselves, Blind Panic (VolvoT5 turbo), Topscum (Mitsubishi FTO), and the mighty BugSplat (Mazda MX5).  The chariot chosen by Hill & Billy????  Mr Bready the VW Polo.  No CB, no satnav, not even a cigarette lighter so they needed to leave their phones in one of our cars to charge.  They had entered the rally with the least amount of engine, technology or car permitted.  This was going to be interesting.

As we had a wander around the campsite, we saw that overnight someone had painted a bloody great swasticka on the side of the camoflauged BMW.  You remember that car...  Working tank turret on top?  Very very unsubtle especially being only a handful of miles from the German border.  Lets hope for their sake, the next destination doesn't involve visiting a famous site where Hitler made wartime speeches(!).

Ed (Scumrun top dog) was calling everyone over to recieve their instructions and route cards and we were delighted to find out that we would be heading through Germany.  To the main square where the first zeppelin was launched and where Hitler made large speeches about invasions etc...  There was a little bit of chuckling and "ooooohing" as the Tank owners realised what they were about to have to face.  I say a little bit, we laughed ourselves silly.  Then, as that was only a checkpoint, the final destination was given, along with a timed deadline.  We needed to be in the Czech republic campsite by 8PM.  The reason?  Ed had decided to take us all on a pub crawl through Prague and the bus was leaving at 8PM for the biggest titty bar in the roughest city on Earth. 

A couple of problems immediately came to mind.  One of the first was - Our satnav doesn't cover Czech.  Another mini thought was that the Czech republic is out of "Western Europe".  That means a different currency, but also means that our breakdown cover wouldn't cover us if we blew up out there.  On the up side, for us to cover that many miles we needed to be fast, and back roads wouldn't cover it.  Thankfully, between Strasburg and Prague, there are a lot of de-restricted autobahns.  Theres a lot of them but fun fun fun.

It appears that overnight the mechanically minded pixies had rocked up and fixed our brakes.  Although still soft, we had some so that's always promising.

As promised by the organisers a breathalyser was doing the rounds and just to put Gruff's mind at ease I had a go and passed it easily.  Apparantly one of the other teams who were sure they were fine, weren't.  Their most sober driver was still 4 times the limit!!!

We had a ciggy and a chat whilst we let the bigger boys get a head start, and then we left the campsite...

As we left the campsite we seemed to have grown.  Not too bad except Gruff was leading the charge and the others seemed to think that he knew where he was going.  Cast your minds back to leaving the M25 in the wrong direction.... 

After a mile or so a wrong turn was taken and everyone followed religiously.  I think some of the natives raised an eyebrow or 2 when an illegal U-Turn was thrown at traffic lights by a convoy of 7 cars.  After that surprisingly we reduced back to just Volvo, Mitsi, Polo and us.  I think even Jo had disappeared by this point.

A lot of chatter over the CB's let us know that the French police didn't want us in their region anymore and stopped a few of ours so we decided to go for a low profile.  Having got through a set of lights and veered off in a different direction to the rest of the scummers we checked we had everyone.  Nope.  Jon and Kelly in the Volvo weren't to be seen and as we know, they didnt have a working CB to contact us.  Thankfully we had swapped numbers just for this kind of problem.  We pulled into a fuel station and got in touch.  Unfortunately, we didn't know where we had lost them, where they were, or indeed where we were.  All we knew is that we were in a bright yellow petrol station and they should look out for us.  Eventually they caught us up and time to go?  Nope, Gruff needed a slash so we waited patiently as he walked to the back of the petrol station (with a working toilet), and wee'd against their wall.  I swear he isn't house trained.

A swift check on the CB's to those in range seemed to let us know the coast was clear so off we charged again.  As soon as we rounded the first corner we passed 2 coppers who had pulled a frenchman over and they looked at us.  We looked at them.  The FTO came off the throttle.  The volvo tried to blend in.  The Hillbillies (I'm friends with them now and still refer to them as Hill & Billy) happily bounced away to their classic rock album oblivious.  With complete synchronicity both coppers jumped on their radios alerting any local patrols that we were still in the area so we simply ignored the suggested speed limit signs and hoofed it out of there.  As soon as we got across the German border we figured fuel up, check maps, and get a lot of miles sorted as quickly as possible. 

We've figured out the best route to the autobahn's and set off.  At some point we met back up with the Bug and their poorly MX5.  Due to something technical and mechanical, they were only running on 3 cylinders and the engine sounded rougher than rough.  Gruff was still driving when we hit the first derestricted autobahn and he was absolutely thrilled to get to the dizzy heights of 85 mph.  The FTO sounded like a jet fighter as it screamed past us, with the T5 happily tailgaiting behind.  Via CB we had all agreed it would be sensible to keep 1 car behind the polo at all times to ensure they didn't get lost or have mechanical problems and end up starnded.  We sat behind those guys happily admiring their enthusiasm.  All 1054 cc of power being used and not skipping a beat at 80.

Traffic started to snarl and I was in need of a toilet stop.  The worst thing in the world is knowing you're only a few hundred meters from a layby but not moving anywhere.  Eventually, I gave in, got out of the car and went for a leak in the bushes.  Magically like moses parting the waves, me getting my gigglestick out meant traffic flowed faster than fluids.  With the tooting of horns the convoy progressed leaving me in the bushes watching.  Gits.  They pulled in a little bit down the road and if you watch Jo's video, you'll see me sprinting Usain Bolt style down the side of the road post piss.

I jumped in and we got going again.  Despite the speed issues we had fallen foul of the previous day, the purple cab rocked to over the 100 marker so I was a happy little camper.  Over the CB we heard (I think) the bug was having problems so we agreed to pull in.  Unfortunately, Kelly "that space is plenty big enough" Foxhall performed a scary scary manouvere that worried us and scared the crap out of the German Merc driver she nearly took apart.  It also created a warning light on the volvo that wasn't covered in the manual.  Turns out it was a self protecting light that indicates Kelly shouldn't be allowed to drive the big ass volvo ever again.

After the bug was looked at we set off again.  The weather was ideal so I lubed up in tan oil settled back and let the rays crisp me a little.  A few of the others I could sense were starting to get a little jealous of Jo & Dave and Myself and Gruff having convertibles.  We happily enjoyed the weather cruising at speeds illegal in the UK.  Occasionally other teams and offical Scumrun cars passed us or got passed with a friendly toot of the horn.  Happy times.

Not so happy times were to follow afterwards.  A big grey cloud was appearing on the horizon looking very rainfilled.  We're men not sugarmice, we will keep the roof down and get through it.  And then it rained.  I don't mean little drops, I mean proper biblical rain.  Thick drops from the sky, with a rumble of thunder.  Then we had a problem.  The wipers wouldn't work.  The windows wouldn't go up.  The lights weren't on.  Checking with he others via CB, it turns out we had no indicators either.  The scene if you can picture it is 2 Brits, on an autobahn, pouring rain, windows and roof down, no wipers, no hazards, no lights not happy campers.  The stereo still worked so that was a bonus :)

We pulled into a services as a convoy and the other guys were happy to wait as we figured out what had died.  After half an hour or so of pulling fuses, manually lifting roof, and generally achieving nothing, I borrowed 0's waterpoof jacket and the ground sheet to their tent and we sent them on their way. 

With just a handful of hours until the titty bar bus left, no point all of us missing it.  With a bit of rain induced powersliding across the services car park the others disappeared into the horizon.  Gruff phoned the AA (thankfully we had cover) and they sent a guy out.  The anticipated delay was an hour so before he showed up so I went to the services cafe bit and bought us both a kitten bap.  No idea what it was, but reasonably tasty.

The AA subcontractor turned up and didn't speak English so I was out of the loop straight away.  However, I have found a new level of respect for Gruff as it turns out he is remarkably fluent in German.  The problems have been described, the gonad has said he hasn't a clue and decided to bugger off leaving us stranded. 

Another phone call to the AA got Herr Gonad to return to us (another hour or so) and again he explained nothing he could do as he already had a car on his flat bed.  Ours started so we followed him.  Having turned up at his depot I sort of understand why he didn't want our car there.  It was an immaculate VW Audi dealership and we sort of lowered the tone. Entertainingly, it was in a town named "Feucht Wagon" or something very similar.  We parked in his stunningly clean workshop and trickled some oily goo from the exhaust across his floor and tittered a little.  A few minutes later a hobo looking chap in high-vis turned up and in perfect english explained he had nothing to do with Fords but was an Audi auto-electician and would have a look.  10 minutes later he had by-passed a relay and got everything tickety boo.  He even made us a bit of fused cable and explained how to get it all running again should we encounter further problems. 

All told, we had lost a lot of time (maybe 4 - 5 hours) and I had already phoned Ed and advised him we weren't gonna get on that titty bus, but we would phone him when we got to camp and get a taxi out to meet up with the rest of them at somepoint around midnight.

With a new found lease of life we kicked the arse right out of that car and despite darkness, we were happy and on the right trail.  As we got to about 10 miles of the German / Czech border I was driving and passed a car "parked" on a sliproad.  This should have put warnings into my tired little brain that maybe I should check my speed but no.  I have Eastern european breasts to observe and I intend to do just that.  The parked car was now approaching at a remarkable catch up rate so I eased off so he could pass us easily.  But he didn't.  Big alarm bells are starting to ring at this point.  When he passed us it was a little bit of a relief.  When the scrolling LED appeared in the back window advising us "Police.  Follow" that relief went out the window.  We were nicked.  Banged to rights for speeding in a foreign country, by their unmarked coppers.  Bollocks.  Gruffs words of wisdom were "yes and no mate.  Don't explain anything, don't have a conversation, just yes and no".

We pulled into the layby behind them and they indicated for us to stay in the car so we did.  Then a series of unfortunate events unfurled...

Gruff got out of the car at their request and handed over the passports and driving licenses so they could check we weren't wanted by interpol.  We're not, happy days.  However, in a dark unlit layby, our replica AK47's in the doorpockets didn't seem to go down too well.  Having been told (without a lot of manners may I add) to get out of the vehicle NOW and walk to the back of the car I did as instructed.  At this point copper number 2 has told Gruff that his passport is in order and that Gruff is Irish.  Remember yes and no?  Gruff didn't.  Despite having 2 armed german officers as opponents he did his best to strike an arsey argument about actualy being Welsh.  Midway through him trying to get us killed, officer A has taken a look in my darkened door pocket and spotted what is in his opinion half a dozen CS spray canisters.  In their eyes, they've just bagged 2 gun toting, CS smuggling Irishmen who are starting a fight.  In Gruffs eyes, he's just being patriotic.  In my eyes, I'm gonna be big Herman's cell toy for the next few years.

Thankfully after a little shouting orders on their part and snivveling on mine, I convinced them water pistols and energy drink but it could have been horrible.  We unpacked the boot and the car to show them we werent smuggling, explained the rally and their little eyes lit up...  "Are you ze first?  There are more speeders yes?"  Erm, no.  Their eyes saddened a little bit as they realised they wouldn't be buggering up anyone elses evening.  They were kind enough to explain to us that as soon as we hit Czech soil we would need a roadtax disc and they even escorted us out of their country to make sure we left.  Very nice of them.  By this point it had gone midnight.  I asked Gruff where he had put the directions to the camp site (our satnav didn't cover Czech) and we twigged that they were in a services about 5 hours drive back.

We figured it was sleepy time coming.  I wanted to crack on and just get to the camp site but Gruff wasn't having it.  He's a grouchy bugger at times and this was one of those times.  We pulled off the motorway about 5 miles from Prague and found a hotel.  If we weren't going to see titty bars, then we were going to treat ourselves to a bed and a shower.  First things first though, a pint in the hotel bar.  Or 2.  Or 3.  Annoyingly the Czech's have their own currency, not the Euro, and we didn't have any.  She said she could do the beer in Euro's but would have to charge us a whole Euro a pint.  She was actually apologizing that we were having to pay 60p a pint!!!!!

After a couple of beers, it was time for showers and bed.   Several well slept hours later and our alarms went off.  Having stolen the toiletries from the room, we checked out and found the camp site with relative ease in the daylight.

But what followed was another interesting day...

Finally, we have day 1 of rally, day 2 of event...

We last left the story with us in the car, horns blaring, silly o'clock local time about to leave the boat at Calais...

Where do we go from here?  Well after the bug and lorries were allowed off (team bugsplat was loaded into the base of the ferry as it was too low to go up the ramps to higher deck), we left the ferry and with true style and spirit of the scumrun waited for our friends from the boat.  No, my memory of that bit is wrong.  Gruff was driving and against all things holy, he figured, sod it, boot it, lets get some miles done.  So roof down, mist stinging cold, we have hit the French motorway at a sensible speed without seeing much apart from fog and dark smudges with tail lights.  After about half an hour of this I was getting proper chilly and fed up with the game.  This just wasn't fun - open top car, mist, dark, horrible weather and sleep deprived.  On the upside, with the roof down the natural weather conditions made a wonderful fridge alternative for our crate of energy drinks on the sound cabinet.  With the occasional chattter on the CB and not a lot to see, I dozed off and let Gruff drive.

Skipping forward a few hours I awoke as we entered a fuel stop.  My first proper daylight glimpse of this country in many years and whats the first thing I spot...  We are drowning in tea.  Yes.  If you cast your mind back somewhat you will remember that the carpet got ditched some months back and we left the electrical cables unprotected in the theory that we are grown ups and whats the worst that can happen?  The worst that can happen is that 20 stone of bloody Taff will be unable to operate a polystyrene cup.  Apparantly the cup of tea I had bought him earlier wasn't "perfectly round" and because he can only accept perfection when it comes to tea his body rejected it and poured the tea across the floor pan.  That would be the floor pan where lots of bits are earthed next to live cables.  I was tired, grumpy and I may have been a little harsh in my choice of phrases but the question is still valid...  How hard is it to drink a cup of sodding tea?

As usual, I seem to have gone off a little so lets drag back a bit.  Before the fuel stop, at the start of the toll motorway, Jon & Kelly caught up with us.    Now I'm back on track. 

OK, so we pulled into the fuel stop and lo and behold theres one of ours in front.  It's James and Marc in  the FTO.  Top Scum dressed as US Fighter Pilots.  I say James and Marc.  If I recall correctly Marc was off paying for fuel and getting essentials whilst James was holding a single windscreen wiper looking a little unsure of why exactly he was holding a wiper.  I never did find that out.

What I did find out at that moment was exactly why you shouldn't fill your fuel tank when you are insanely tired.  By this point, Gruff was starting to look weary and it was his turn to fill the tank up.  I watched with great amusement as the fuel barrelled out of the filler nozzle (as the tank was full), ran down the side of the car and over his foot.  Quite a lot of unleaded was wasted across the floor and Gruffs shoes and socks before he twigged.  How I chuckled at the time but karma bit me back.  Twice.  Firstly, it was my time to pay for the fuel so I had to cough for fuel foot as well as the tank, and secondly the stench of petrol in the cab wouldn't shift. 

As I was paying for fuel I was impressed by Jon (Volvo T5) and his bilingual abilities.  he seemed to be speaking quite well in his quest to pay for fuel (I simply pointed at the car and waved a card -  This worked everywhere) and I couldn't understand a word.  Right up until "erm...  je suis erm...  pump....erm... five".  God alone knows what he was telling her before that point.  Probably that handbrakes are awesome or something similar in french.

Suitably coffee'd and pasty'd up we went back to the cars (remember, we are in a full services at this point) to discover Gruff having a slash in the bushes.  A point worth noting here that it was a longer walk to the bushes than the toilets from where we were parked...

Our route cards for the day we had worked out so with fuel on board, off we went to both the headquarters of Verve Clique and Moet et Chandon.  Both predictably in the Champagne region of France.

(Jon parked the big Volvo on the grass somewhere overlapping a disabled spot at Verve HQ)

The Verve Clique was a relatively simple find with no drama.  We turned up, met a bunch of other scummers, got pics taken outside and drove to the Moet HQ.  This checkpoint was in a narrow bit of a fairly busy town.  What the tow planners hadn't thought of was 100+ cars turning up and stopping in their warren of streets.  We buggered that towns roads for a fair few minutes.  Not drawing attention to ourselves was easy.  Not drawing attention to our group was nearly impossible as right outside the Moet building were the YMCA boys, in full outfits, standing on top of their police car doing the signature dance with the stereo at full whack.  It's at this point we broke free and left.

By this point we had swapped drivers and I was in control whilst Gruff had nap time.  We had Jon & Kelly leading, us following and the FTO with Marc and James behind.  Having got the checkpoints done, all that was left to do was find the campsite.  With plenty of time left before dark we had figured we weren't going to clock in on the fastest 10 cars (a prestigious plaque and parking spot allocated each day to these champions of cheap chariots), so we could either a) try and drop in with some of the faster cars times or b) actually enjoy some of the fantastic scenery.  With that in mind, we dropped away from the motorway network and wound our way (at a fair pace may I add in here) through the back lanes and roads towards camp. 

By mutual agreement we pulled in for a spot of lunch at a cracking park and the three cars drew quite a lot of looks at they turned up.

Regardless we walked into the shop and promptly found an interesting pairing of crisp flavours - Donner and chicken kebab favour crisps.  Whilst we were deciding what to get from the foreign menu snacks an unmissed feeling cropped up.  Yet again, either scroll to the relevant blog post or take my word for it, I had a very very poorly stomach the week leading up to Scumrun and loaded myself up to the limit on pooblockers on the Monday evening.  This is now Friday.  I hadn't had a "movement" for 4 days so I told Gruff to pick me something to eat and I'd see him outside in a bit.  Without aiming for the vulgar note, it was a mixture of relief and pain as I gave birth to the largest, roughest traffic bollard in the history of man.

Outside we got chatting about what we do and I already had a hunch that Jon was an officer of the law.  This was proven to be correct and Kelly is some sort of IT - turn it off and turn it on again helper (sorry Kelly, I couldnt resist that as I know how much you hate tech support being grouped).  It's no secret that Gruff drives lorries and I play with numbers, but it just left Marc and James to stop being coy.  After a bit of nudging and hinting, Jon recognised the boots (of all things) and twigged.  Thats right guys, Gruff and I have been speeding through France with not 1, not 2, but 3 of her Majesties finest.  Jon is Medway but the FTO guys are full on Met officers.

I think I mentioned before that I was crap with names so we just dubbed Marc and James with the tags "5" & "0" respectively.  We're still friendly with these guys and the tags have stuck.  As much as I love slating the job that these guys do, you'll find out later that it's a very good club to be in and they're handy to know at times.

Having discovered occupations and watched them exchanging stories which I won't go into (but take my advice now...  If you are ever in London and need directions, just hope it's not 5 & 0 that give them to you).  Absolute quality and brought tears to our eyes.

Having got the un-named meat sandwiches eaten, we agred that dinner shopping would probably be a good idea so aimed to find a big supermarket in Strassburg (where we were camping that evening).

A few hours later we arrived at a beautiful stretch of road.  A couple of miles of insanely sweeping and tight hairpins combined with a steep downwards hill.  The volvo handled like a barge on steroids due to it's size and the FTO was struggling wiith left turns.  Every left turn needed to be done wide as they couldn't control the lock.  Which put us in our element.  Both the other cars have larger more powerful engines but steering / handling issues whereas we are light and nimble, agile and fun.  Remember it's drive it like you stole it Savage in the hot seat, not Drive it like Miss Daisy, so I leadfooted that poor little cabby with last minute braking, over the lines on blind corners to get the apex just right before off the brakes and powering on to the next corner.  Oh such fun.  Oh the joys.  Oh shit.  At the end of this stretch we got caught behind traffic (in honesty, they were probably speeding but we had been giving it the beans and still caught them).  Whilst in that traffic we could smell burning.  Really rancid, mechanical burning.  A quick check on the CB revealed none of us had any warning lights showing but there was definately an issue with one of our cars.  The Volvo seemed OK, the FTO said they could smell it strongly through their vents which meant it was us. 

5 & 0 dropped back a bit to slow the traffic behind them and I took the car up to 50 and went for an emergency stop to check out if it was our brakes.  That emergency stop was laughable.  We had no brakes at all.  Time to pull into a supermarket carpark and have a look.  The once pristine white alloys were now a combination of black and grey.  The heat being generated from those front wheels was ridiculous and worrying.  So we decided to go to the shop to let them cool off. 

As usual, Gruff needed a fluid loss so rather than use the toilets inside the shop he wandered off to the edge of the car park with his flies in his hand, ready to release the one eyed gopher.  I believe it was Jon that told him this may not have been the smartest idea as he was about to start reliving himself yards away from a fully marked French police unit.

We wandered into the shop determined to get some meat for the barbecue in the car and some cans of fizzy pop.  We knew we wanted burgers, sausages and steaks so the mission was simple.  Find them.  We couldnt.  What we did find was the butchers counter but he didn't speak english and the labels could have said anything.  What we bought meat wise I dont know, but they were the nicest chilli covered steaks I have ever tasted.

Whilst on a wander round the shop Gruff had got lost trying to find sandals and whilst we were trying to find him, 5 made a friend.  This friend looked ever so slightly "special" but unattended and without any carer so I can only assume that he was normal by French standards. He tried striking up a conversation but when we politely blanked him, rather than being upset, he simply started stroking the fighter pilot outfit 5 was wearing.  It's not the only bit of worrying man action those boys got this weekend, in fact it set the tone for the guys I reckon.

I'm looking at my notes and realise that I have missed out a bit somewhere.  Not overly exciting but I know we set off a speed camera somewhere just outside Champagne region so I'm pretty certain the Volvo and FTO did also.

Back to the train of thought, we left the shop and made our way cautiously to the campsite.  We found it with ease and circled the cars.  Jon and Kelly had a simple tent that took seconds to construct.  5 & 0 had a slightly more complex variant but our bloody great hotel made of canvas was a mystery to us.  A deal was struck and I fired up the barbecue, 5 & 0 made our tent, Jon wandered to the bar and Gruff got out the way. 

After eating the nicest meat off Hannah Montanna plates (cheers sweetie for sneaking them into the shopping trolley - I didn't get stick for them at all), we then moved onto the sausages we had bought.  Not being a full barbecuist I dont know when things are ready so got 0 to try one.  He said they were just the right side of luke warm in the middle so we got stuck in.  A beverage was needed at this point.

(L-R, Jon 5, 0, Kelly)

After that, it was time to wander up to the bar to meet everyone else who had made it in one piece.  A pleasant time was had and we called it a night and crawled to our sleeping bags.

Tomorrow is a fresh challenge but an interesting story to tell... 

Breakdowns, titty bars, cheap beer, and deresticted autobahns coming up next.

================================================================
================================================================
Joe Richardson (Team bugsplat) has created a cracking bit of video foootage - check it out here...

A seperate note, the engine is now in, has been tested, and I'm due to pick the scummer up on Saturday...

Here is a taster of the new and improved Juliette - put it on full screen and turn your speakers up:

I'm a slacker.

I know you're all waiting eagerly to follow the next day of blog but I've been a bit busy so haven't updated.

The RS conversion is hitting all sorts of problems from bonnet not shutting through to both donor and scummer having broken heater matrix' and alarms (yes, even with a completely new set of electrics) not behaving.

On top of that I've been sitting exams, helping folk out and being a parent so time has been tight.

As it is half term next week I am intending to update when I would normally have been at college but I will try to get at least a couple of days worth of trip covered to make up for it.

In summary, set your alarms early for Wednesday morning so you've got plenty of time to read the blog before you go to work.


Savage.

Not really an update...

OK, to those of you eagerly waiting the blog of the 1st day of driving, I'm going to disappoint you I'm afraid.  Today I am very pushed for time as I have a lot of things to do.  Tomorrow, if I can find a power point on the train, I will blog it there.

The reason for me being on a train and mentioning it here is simple.  The train is Colchester to home.  Why am I returning from Colchester on the train...?  Because I'm driving the scumrnner up there and leaving it together with another addition to the ever growing Savage fleet of motors.

Yes, I've bought another one.  I am (albeit for not very long at all), the owner of a low mileage MK6 RS2000.  That RS2000 is going to be used as a donor for an engine (plus a few other bits) swap.  This should ramp the power up to the levels of being insanely fast on the power to weight ratio. 

It is at this point that I want to mention 2 people that have made this possible. 

First I want to again thank Mike Singh from Ilford for agreeing to let me have his car for this project.  On eBay it went nowhere near either his buy it now price or indeed his reserve.  For the age and condition of the car as far as I can tell, both were set realistically.  I emailed him (and have spoken to him on the phone now) and begged, pleaded and to be fair probably annoyed him.  But Mike is a legend.  He had a look at the blog, saw that I was indeed a genuine weirdo but doing good things for terminally ill kids and agreed to let me have the car for very very little money indeed - considerably cheaper than me sourcing the parts seperately.  I won't say how much as I don't know if he has told his missus what he has done, but let's say it was an absolute gem of a purchase with the return of two ponies from a monkey...

Secondly, Ash from AWM auto services deserves a massive mention as well.  A keen member of the FEOC-UK site he comes highly recommended from everyone that has dealt with him.  It is with this in mind that I asked for his assistance in this project.  He was aware of the Floppy Throttle scumrunner and with the charity edge in mind I sought a quote.  He has come out as again, a wonderful wonderful man.  Once again, I do not know if he wants our agreement for this made public or not so I won't place it on here.  All I will say is I know full well that I could not get a better price anywhere else. 

The guy is so respected that I'm travelling a 6 hour round trip to drop the car off, and another (probably faster return leg lmao) 6 hours to collect.  If you have a Ford and want a bit of a change, try him.  http://www.awm-auto-services.co.uk/ The website is a work in progress so please don't judge his mechanical abilities by his html programming skills - Web design and engine swap abilities aren't linked in any way.

In view of the new engine needing a bit of a run, the ferry is booked from Dover, 9 June for a couple of days away (maybe enough time to hit the 'Bahn's) with the wifey.



That to one side I will get the second of the Scumrun 2011 blogs running tomorrow (hopefully).


Savage

Brands Hatch...

Here's the first installment of our little  Euro adventure... 

As expected, Gruff came round first thing.  I say first thing, I was still asleep in my duvet coccoon when he text me at half 8 wondering why I hadn't phoned him.  The answer is I was knackered.  The previous evening I had collected the Mother in Law as she was helping the wife out over the coming few days.  The theory was simple and that Maxine would look after the baby in our spare room on Wednesday night so I could guarantee a decent nights sleep before the run.  For those of you that know Max, then you'll know that at times she can be bloody good entertainment and we ended up chatting til gone 2 in the morning so the good nights sleep went out the window.

Anyway, Gruff came round at about 9am, and our theory was to leave the house at 10:30 to hit Clacketts Lane services for 12:00.  All the checks were made; passports, driving licenses, insurance paperwork, details of charity giving etc... and we were ready.  All that was left to do before we went was kiss the kids, cuddle the wife and say "ta-ra" to the mother in law.  That done we hung about for another 15 minutes faffing about for Max to figure out her camera to take a couple of pics.  Roof dropped, sunnies on and we're off.

We've done the pre-flight checks (engine starts, stereo works) and headed up the A3.  It really didn't take too long before we started noticing people staring at the car but this was just a drop as to what we could expect coming.

Moving on an hour or so we hit the services that we had arranged to meet folk in.  We turned up looking for an easy place to park so we would be noticable to other teams and tucked into a little corner of the car park.  It's at this point that I thought we might have an issue with the exhaust.  It sounded like an angry god beating a drum filled with nails whilst roaring like his gonads were on fire.  Not good.  However my worry was almost immediately turned to awe.  I checked the rear view mirror to see Team bugsplat and instantly I twigged that it was Joe's exhaust making this insane experience.  To say his exhaust is loud is like saying waking up to find the under 21's female gymnastic squad naked and begging for a piece of your lovin' is pleasant.  It's not.  Words cannot begin to describe the grin that makes (the exhaust note, not the gymnasts).

The picture doesn't really show how low this car is, but so you get the idea, the front corner splitters are so low that you cannot fit a 20 pack of ciggies beneath them.  The paint job is amazing and the sound of it (even with it's noise suppressor in) is oh,so,gooooooood. 

Shortly after Joe and Dave turned up in Bugsplat, they left as they needed to be in Brands to catch up with Ed and co before carnage was created.  We waited patiently and a few other teams turned up and we had a pleasant chat with them before heading off.

Those of you that actually know me are aware how bad I am with remembering names, so I tend not to bother asking, but I'm pretty good with cars so apologies to the following guys, as I forgot you real names...  (and forgot to take your photo's at the time of meeting you but these are taken later on during the rally).  But in the services we had:

The 90's Jag boys (complete with ma-hoooooosive mobile phones) in their ridiculous fuel consuming wagon:

(Picture taken at camp a couple days later)

The BritSAABroad (see what they did with the team name...  I like it, quite clever) in an old Saab with union flag painted full length - **I haven't actually managed to fnd a pic of this so if you have one, please feel free to forward it on and I'll paste it in another time**

Team Cav-o-flauge sponsored by dulux/crown and their local pub.  They proudly pointed out that they had decorated the car when drunk but it looked quite good.  Driver A (I really am bad with names) was wearing a military uniform and chuckled as he walked away from the entrance to the services having been saluted, and Driver B, was a fantastic guy that looks a bit like a B-Movie henchman dressed in a velour pimp suit:

(Picture taken outside the Verve Clique building in France a day later)

Whilst we were all having a chat and I was handing out the Voltz Energy Shots (plug made) we heard that noise that worries anyone gathered in a batch of silly cars hanging about...  Full on police siren.  Upon a quick glance it seemed that the origin of this noise wasn't from a police car, nor a subtle unmarked wagon, but from a bright orange M-Series beemer.  One of ours is sporting front grill lights and siren.  Oh this is shaping up to be interesting.  They pulled in, gave the sirens a blat and pulled out again so heres a piccy of them when we finally caught up a day or so later...

This car caused a lot of discussion about whether it genuinely fell into the under £500 limit.  The owners reckon they got it from auction and who am I to raise an eyebrow?  If they did, it's a deal, it's a steal, it's sale of the mother funkin' century.

Whilst in the services attention was brought to our mystery cabinet, so I explained the insides of it to the Jag / Saab boys and booted up a quick demonstration of the sound system.  I completely forgot at that point that we had a family parked next to us and the poor grandma woke to "Son of a Preacher man" at full whack.  Sorry Granny, but that confused and slightly scared look on your face was priceless.

Time is ticking on by this point so we agreed to disperse to Brands Hatch in an orderly manner.  We swapped drivers so Gruff could have a go and he lost the Jag within 2 minutes (they lost us in fairness), but using his knowledge of everything truck drivery and his unique knowledge of Britains roads, he set the Sat Nav to Barcelona (honestly) and disappeared off the wrong exit of the M25.  By the time we had turned round got back on to the M25, found the right exit and arrived at Brands, we were greeted by quite a few chuckles.  Even the Cav boys who left 10 minutes after us were there wondering how we could be so late.  I blamed Gruff and shouldered very little of the piss-taking.

Anyway, we made it to Brands Hatch (which a lot of teams failed to make) so we could be entered into the rally.  Stage 1 complete.

Queing to be registered was simple enough, 2 lines, 5 cars from line A into the paddock, then 5 from Line B. 

When we pulled up into line B, these were the guys next to us.  It sort of set the tone for the weekend - Nuns drinking beer whilst driving a New York Taxi.

Once we were parked we had an interesting bunch of guys pull up behind us.  Ever so slightly weird but dear God they were entertaining.  The YMCA police car with working sirens lights and seemingly 1 CD single (guess???) playing over and over again.  The guy in the leather chaps and stripey budgie smugglers took a liking to Gruff from the offset and everywhere we looked it seemed his holstered feathers friends beak was staring at us.

Also whilst waiting I introduced myself to a guy called Jon and his Missus Kelly.  They  were driving as T5 volvo estate and I've been keeping an eye on his blog for last few weeks ( http://www.blindpanic.kjfox.co.uk/ ) and thought I better say hi.

Once again, photo taken a day or so later.

Having been called through and registered our car, it was time to get the sticky numbers on the doors.  Those of you that have been following this blog, and more noticably those that have seen the car in the flesh will note that each of the graphis on the car have been put on with a bit of love, care and time.  Not a wrinkle on any of them and with the exception of 1 ropey bit of a triangle, I am proud.  However, the time came for them to apply the door numbers and I swear it was the lovechild of Stevie Wonder and Harvey Price's less talented cousin that put the numbers on the side.  Bubbled, wrinkled, wonky and looking bloody awful.  But that said, I came to love the look.  The numbers are still on the car and I'm proud of them now.  (The car still gets some weird looks when I nip to ASDA).

Numbered up, signed in, declarations signed for filming rights, next of kin forms filled and waivers saying I won't sue if I end up in a twisted heap of metal all sorted, we had a look round whilst we waited for the highlight - laps of Brands.

Quite a few cars had an insane amount of effort put in:

A BMW in camoflauge netting with moving turret and (worryingly) working gun.

Some had less obvious:

The mondingo, and behind them another Saab absolutely covered in "Page 3" models.

We awaited patiently for instructions and then we were told to follow onto the track.  Although it was a few laps, we were told only one driver allowed so with a quick glance at Gruff and a flash of my beigey - whites, it was agreed that I was driving.  By agreed, I mean I was in th drivers seat engine running by the time Gruff knew what was going on.

Onto the Track we went in an orderly manner following the safety car.  Well, sort of.  The first dip after corner 1 we followed then a few like minded children stopped whilst the safety car carried on leading a few.  With the pack a fair way in front, it was time to be childish.  Throttles open, Exhausts crying for a gear change and we're off.  Up into the first bend round that tight one, drop to an easy left, over the "S" leading to the final corner and as we get to the straight, it's time to slow down again as we've caught the safety car.  Checking the mirrors, I can see that the MK4 Escort XR3i Cabbie is behind us, with a Porsche 944 behind them.  Tidy.

Once again, we've let the safety car trundle on for a sensible distance and I've kept my eye on our older rival in the mirror.  He's still there and I've clocked in 85 before the final turn in.  Quck glance in the passenger mirror and yes, we've left him a bit.  Unfortunately I hadn't glanced in the drivers mirror and as I pulled in for the line, I saw a white wing mirror.  Unmistakeably not ours, but that of a Germa design.  The Porsche has had a spurt and we were astonishingly close to making contact.  I like to think that my natural driving ability and talent averted that crash, but more likely luck and panic stopped us from stacking on the track.

A more sedate 3rd lap was had and we followed the pack off the track at that point into the meeting point whilst other cars had a play and then for a group photo.

After which it was onto the bar for a couple of hours watching private track practice and meeting our co-drivers.  One group of guys featured quite heavily in that they were dressed as women.  Obviously cross dressing is an obvious outfit choice, but these Moulin Rouge guys look like rugby players.  Bloody massive but a really amusing set of people.

A little bit later we were ushered to the front of the room where the anticipated blah blah, good thing we are doing blah blah, over £65,000 raised speeches took place.  After the grown ups had said their bit, a young lad, maybe 12 or 13, made a speech.  He suffers from a disease with over 200 active symptoms.  Over 90 affect his day to day life and Dreams come True had helped him meet his hero Lewis Hamilton.  His gratitude and heart felt thanks reduced the crowd of well over 100 blokes to silence.  The heckling stopped as he rasped his words and every one there had a moment.  I am sure a few man drops fell from eyeballs.  The kid made a perfect speech and brought home that this is about them.  Not us having a jolly, not banging down the Autobahn, but about helping those a lot less fortunate than us.  Since returning home from this trip I have discovered that this charity may become a lot more relevant to my extended family and I hope that some of you continue to contribute via our just giving page.

After the speeches Gruff made his way back to the car for a nap.  Whilst the rest of the group continued to party.  Some got a little bit more lashed than others and the dance routine from one of Team Add Energy was a thing of beauty...  I did video him "busting his moves" but unfortunately I can't find it.  I know his team mates filmed it as well, so if you have a copy, please let me have it and I'll patch it into here :D

We left at about 10:30 - 11:00 and made our way to Dover.  It became apparant over the CB's that P&O weren't overly impressed with the idea of letting us in early so we pulled over a couple of miles out and laid low for a bit.  We met up with Team Big Ballers who had the AA out several times already and they were broken men.  Their car had died.  No fix available.  For them, the trip was over before the Ferry.  This was really upsetting for the guys as they had been looking forward for nearly a year to this run.  We met up with Joe & Dave (Bugsplat) and the Tank BMW and waited for a better time to approach and board.

How subtle and out of place do we look?

We made our way to the ferry and got booked in about 1am.  This gave us 2 hours before boarding so a few of the sensible ones (me) got a bit of shut eye whilst a few guys milled about.  Joe discovered that the only way you can sleep in an MX5 is by getting out and curling up into a ball on the boot, and Jon and Kelly (Volvo T5) discovered that although they could hear on their CB, they couldn't speak.  This led to  large amount of unanswered abuse via the CB when Jon or Kelly were leading the way in a couple of updates.

At approximately 3am we boarded the Ferry with a large amount of revving, horn blowing, siren screaming and shouting.

Once on board the ferry we congregated to a bar and were given a swift pep talk and our route destination for once we hit Calais.  My original thought had been turn up in Calais, take a few hours sleep and then the fun would begin, but no. we hit France and bang the nuts out of it from the off.  So there goes the sleep option.  We were given route cards with clues but the final destination would be Strassbourg.  We needed to go via both the Verve Clique HQ and also the Moet et Chandon HQ in the Champagne region.

Once we had the details we discovered with great amusement that BugSplats GPS wouldn't find anything in Europe unless you knew where the closest InterFlora was.  How we chuckled. 

We grabbed a couple of hundred fags from the duty free to keep us going, waited until we hit Calais, then entered the cars, waiting for the doors to be opened and the full wrath of 100 or so cars was unleashed upon the continent.

The journey was about to begin.......

Before reality sets in, a quick pre Run moment for you...

Well, I'm intending to carry on with the updating on a Tuesday, but I find myself awake and realising that I missed one important pre Scumrun moment.

Picture the scene...

It's a stunning day, the sun is shining, the car is gleaming, the birds are singing, Gruff and myself are grinning aware that in less than a couple of days we are off to the Euro drive of our lives.  Last minute checks are underway and I've unlocked the door of Juliette to do something.  Now I know a lot of you that are likely to be reading this are new but a few months ago we had an electric issue.  The alarms and immobiliser locked the car down. 

With a day or so to go, the problem has returned.  Alarms wailing and no ignition control lights.  Last time we found a quick fix (after a few days head scratching) and simply reset the alarms.  Unfortunately, that fix wasn't working today.  We have no time to lose and need to get the car started.  After an hour of (admittedly angry) discussion and suggestions I put a cry out for help on Facebook whilst Gruff jumped on the phone (to O2 about his contract - Grrrrrrrrrr I was not happy).  I phoned a few alarm and immobiliser specialists in the area (all of which wanted us to take the car to them - not happening) and we got to a dead end.  Time is desperately running out.  With my tetchy-ness reaching new levels Gruff buggered off to see a mate of a mate who doesn't deal with car electrics but "knows a bit".  After 20 minutes or so he came back holding a piece of paper with the phone number of someone else.  The someone else is an auto electrician and with a job title like that you know his time isn't going to be cheap.

Before we phoned him, we had a try at a suggestion made by his original friend of a friend.  Instead of using the black "slave" key to lock/unlock in the drivers side, we tried locking and unlocking in the passenger side with the red "master" key.  This worked.  Levels of anger went back to normal and I was happy. 

By this time I had received a detailled breakdown of the problem most likely to be a relay issue (get back to that in a few updates) from an interesting source.  A few months back in a bored moment, I added every person with the same name as me (male and female) and became friendly with a few of them - great people.  Anyway, one of my females (who is due to give birth any day now - good luck) has a partner called Danny.  Now as luck woulld have it, Danny is well into his cars.  As even stranger luck would have it, Danny has an Escort Cab an seems to know it's workings very well.  So he sent me his number and said he would talk me through the problem over the phone.  As it happens, we didn't need the advise (although gratefully received) but nice to know strangers do help folk out.

So with just a few hours to go, all things were looking good.  Bags packed, car clean and working, myself and Gruff both sporting new "tough stickers" (I love that phrase - courtesy of Hill - you will meet him in a few updates) and ready to roll.  The mother in law has been collected, the wife and kids have been kissed and the cat is in hiding.

With the exception of meeting my wife, and having kids, the greatest few days of my life were about to unfold and I'm going to be sharing these days with you over the next few weeks.

For those of you that want a better insight into my warped life or see more images from the rally, feel free to add me on facebook by email address - chrissavage5@msn.com