You take the high road...

The Scottish Holiday.

Chapter One:

We set off last Saturday for our holiday in a Scottish Castle (nowhere near Loch Lomond). The Astra packed full of "stuff" that we might need in a Castle - folding chairs, walking boots, gaffer tape, two proofs-of-address and the like. Even fully loaded, the Astra was doing an estimated 42 mpg - excellent!

We spent the night in the Midlands and on the Sunday we set off for our next stop in Windermere in the Lake District. We've now done about 100 miles up the M6 and decide it's time to have lunch. Junction 27 seemed to offer the most options and we diverted up the B5250 to see what was there.

We spotted the Mulberry Tree pub in Wrightington.

"Looks good. Let's go eat!"

I pulled into the car park and nearly overshot into the field.

"What ARE you doing?" my wife asked.

"That'll be the clutch gone then."

Silence.

"Oh bugger."

"Don't worry we have RAC Recovery, we can get taken anywhere."

"So, we can go 250 miles home, or get taken to Windermere where we'll have to find a garage on Monday to get the car fixed? And, what about the rest of the holiday? It's Sunday! Did you plan for this too?!"

"Err, yes, actually. That's what the two proofs-of-address are for, in case we have to rent a car."

I noticed a slight upward shift of frequency in my wife's voice.

"You EXPECTED to breakdown! What do you think you..."

"Oh, look, an Eagle..."

Chapter Two:

*ring*

"This is the Barclay's RAC Breakdown line. This number has now changed. Please ring the new number."

*click*

"WTF! They didn't give the new number!"

We got the lady in the pub to Google for the RAC number. I rang them, and had a pint whilst waiting for the patrol. I rang Enterprise (the car rental people) as part of my backup plan.

"What's the availability of cars in Lancashire?"

"Loads. Have you got your proofs-of-address and your passport with you?"

"Passport? WTF?"

*click*

To cut out several hours (and pints) waiting in the car park the RAC Patrol bloke eventually came up with a splendid Plan C.

"We'll take you and the Astra to one of our network of garages in Kendal. Then we'll "recover" just you and your wife to Windermere. The garage will take a look first thing Monday and let you know how long it'll take to fix. They may even fix it by lunchtime. That's what they've just told me."

"Even an Astra clutch slave cylinder?"

"Yup".

Excellent.

Chapter Three:

Another nice RAC man, who was armed with a flat-bed, recovered us 60 miles to an industrial estate in Kendal where we left a note (as instructed) and threw the keys through the letter box of the garage. Guided by my SatNav, he then drove us a further 10 miles to the B&B in Windermere where, much to the amusement of the locals, we got out of the cab with our bags.

"Where's their car then?"

"Dunno, must be one of these new-fangled Southern things..."

We were about two hours late as planned in "not-breaking-down-Plan A".

Not bad.

I would like to apologise for leaving hydraulic fluid all over the pub car park.

What else could possibly go wrong?