I'm glad someone can smile...
There's mixed news from Camp SUL. The good news is that our friend has found a way of persuading me that, after 2,500 miles of successful motoring this year, now is the time for Winter hibernation. The bad news is that we may now have a major job to add to the list...
(Is it me or does the smile get bigger when trouble has been caused?)
Sunday's trip to help out with the second weekend of heritage train and bus services in Looe didn't go so well. A gentle whine, which has nagged my conscience since Warminster last month, developed into something less subtle on the jouney down to Cornwall, and culminated in some 'oribble grating sounds coming from the gearbox (nothing new there, I hear you quip, as I sob into my whi... I mean, wine).
We made it to the event but didn't take part, Penzance-style. 'The nasty noise' became more frequent, even on tickover, and was about as painful a noise as an owner could wish for his vehicle to make.
There's almost certainly a bearing breaking up in there. The knackered bearing would explain the whine, and 'the nasty noise' could be bits of the bearing being churned around the gearbox. Not nice.
So we limped home in fourth gear (which doesn't turn the lay-shaft in the gearbox, and therefore doesn't whine at all), and 'the nasty noise' soon disappeared - presumably the alien intruder had long since broken up.
On Sunday I'll drain the gearbox, and I'll show you what comes out. It's probably going to mean having the gearbox out over the Winter, and I already had plenty of jobs to do. But I can't really complain. We got home.
Sheppardian philosophy says: In every bag of sweets there are the horrible yellow ones that taste so disgusting you can barely swallow them. But if we do, they make the lovely red ones taste even more delicious when you get them. Yesterday, after months of charmed chewing, I picked a yellow one.
A revolting yellow whine gum.