Of legends are us.a as a

Euclyd –
We weren’t heading West in my Land Rover right now, like once upon a time I had done. Not in the Land Rover which I didn’t have any more. It was a few years ago since I had driven that car everywhere and anywhere. I kind of wished we were going in my Land Rover, and in fact I wished I still had it. The end game for the Land Rover had been an impetuous sell following multiple mechanical failures, plus assorted other problems that seemed to appear all too regularly to warrant any type of long term future alliance between it and myself. All despite the fact that for me, I felt destined to buy that particular Land Rover; it’s appearance being in the right place at the right time exactly at the same time I really wanted to buy one more than anything.
Those negative mechanical issues unfortunately had sealed the fate of that vehicle to a slot on a car sales forecourt – eventually. At least in my favour I had honoured it the justified appearance on not any car sales forecourt, but a specialist Land Rover sales forecourt. It was a vehicle of which I felt channelled by adversity into not honouring the respect to it that it probably (definitely) truly deserved – as a vehicle anyway. Although I did in another way because it was ten times better when I sold it than when I originally bought it. The crux of it was that I seemed to have bought a mechanically jinxed one, that was the issue.
The Land Rover had always been a high scorer for entertainment value. A lot of that was in part due to the very mechanical failures that spearheaded its own demise as a vehicle of my owning.

How can you do a tour of the Lake District after enduring a major mechanical distraction (albeit hiding itself within) along the way and get back home in the same vehicle under its own steam? The major breakdown at this particular time manifesting itself and appearing as a major fault only once back home.
Because it was a Land Rover. Plain and simple.
Or was there another reason? A more ……….. spooky reason. A reason of intervention from a different parallel maybe! Or was it because it was this particular Land Rover?
On that score there may well have been other reasons as to why that particular Land Rover was where it was and where I was at the same time that I was prepared to pay the cash to buy it.
To me that car held the distinction of being kinder to me than its various break downs caused it to appear. In every way not so apparent to anyone other than myself and girlfriend ‘Troy’ at the time, as each major breakdown delayed its full impact until after I was finished with the related vacation at the time. Two holidays, two major break downs. Two major break downs – to start at the beginning of the vacation, two vacations finished before the breakdowns appear in full. It’s probably a record. Either way, I wish I still had that land Rover.
It created memorable times, that’s for sure.

We’d covered the Lake District fully with the Land Rover. And one could say ‘well why shouldn’t it have, it was a car’. Yes, but these overriding mechanical failures stand it out as different to me. It held on despite those mechanical failures.
One such holiday where this was highlighted began with a simple matter of Just drive up to the Lake District with the caravan on the back – fully loaded as usual. Not such a big deal, I would grant you that.
Get stuck in the largest and longest road traffic queue in the history of the UK – outside of Spaghetti Junction, a queue which was a staggering 70 miles long from tip to tail.
We’re stuck in it. We’re also in a vehicle which is built consisting of old technology; which for the purposes of this tale is no bad thing.
This vehicle has a mechanical cooling fan running permanently from the crankshaft. The engine is running for the entirety of the queue which takes somewhere between three and four hours to overcome. It’s bumper to bumper. The engine is overheating whilst we drive at less than walking pace so the heater is full on in the cab. The outside temperature is a dizzying high twenties in the sunshine.
The Land Rover’s engine temperature needle is in the red for much too long. I don’t want to turn the engine off because the queue moves at a snail pace, but move it does.
And we reach our destination with nothing out of kilter. It was even comfortable. To my surprise the seats were more than capable of delivering a long comfortable ride.
The vehicle was just supreme for all the holiday and I threw it around a few places that I wanted it to take us, places that a 4×4 should take us – and it did, faultlessly.
The trip back home was faultless too. It never missed a beat.

Running the type of tight schedule that I was well used to doing back in those times incurred the usual weekend gardening at every opportunity. One such working day in a garden had been arranged by myself for the following day after coming back from the Lake District.
So, after getting up to go to work in one such garden the day after and following our return from the Lake District, I wondered out to the Land Rover to head off. The vehicle started without trouble; in as much as it started. There was a strange noise coming from the engine which wasn’t there the day before. I didn’t like the sound of it. But it was running. I played around with the gears in the parking area and it moved around just fine – noisily.
I had a simple solution to the problem. It drove so get it to work. I was only about five miles from work. If the noise was to get any worse, I wasn’t that far from home. Either way it was simple. If the car let me down I would recover it to home – only a short distance away.
Once at work the fault was no worse or no better, it was still there. But then it would be because I recognised that noise. It was strangely reminiscent of a problem on another vehicle I had been driving once upon a time from years ago – a tractor. When the tractor I had been driving at that time decided to put a valve through the piston, it made the very same noise.
I knew then what had happened to the engine. A major mechanical fault. My mind was made up. But this old clunker would front it out and I would get the Land Rover back home after work. I couldn’t do any more damage than had already been done.
First of all was the plan to finish the Saturday work in the garden; which being so close to home did satisfy me that any other idea as to how to deal with the truck didn’t make too much sense. I wasn’t about to call a recovery firm out for this and as I was sure it would get me home, therefore I would follow my chosen pathway here. I was way past worrying about any internal mechanical issue with the Land Rover. It would get mended and I still had my old van that I could use in the meantime.
It was a strange occurrence though. Who would have put money on it that the engine would last a week when all along the initial damage almost definitely had been done on the way up country. That was my take on it. I park it up at night and it’s fine. The next day I start it up and it puts a valve through the piston. Fucking weird!

VW days –
Heading for Devon, here and now in the old blue Volkswagen, dredged up some memories from times gone by. This particular car (the VW) was ‘Mad Dog Yellow’, even though it was blue. Such was my desire to name my vehicles with a name as indicated (to me anyway) by the license plate. The plate here was J589 MDY, so ‘Mad Dog Yellow’ is then what this car became.
It didn’t live up to its name. It was blue and timid. It was reliable bar a few incidents, which were accepted as just mechanical wear and tear. It was and always would be to me – ‘Mad Dog Yellow’.
The Land Rover from previous times on the other hand was ‘Euclyd’, the name of which was born from its own plate of C42 EYD.
Ok, Euclyd is not a real name. It’s an adaption by myself of the real name Euclid. I made it fit.

Driving West in ‘Mad Dog Yellow’, we were heading towards Dartmoor. The caravan was loaded up. Some would say too much. For me it was enough. The caravan happily bounced along behind us.

Euclyd –
Oh yeah, here again on the Moor whilst driving along in the VW, memories from times gone past –
Sat in Euclyd the unceasingly lovely countryside that easily afforded a deeper exploration, of which the Land Rover’s (Euclyd) purpose by design was to excel, was back then muddied by the fact that it just couldn’t stay in one piece. I lavished attention and costs on it. It on the other hand had not the greatest respect for any of that. Why should it, it was a machine. Although it did in another way because it always got me home, or pretty much.
You can’t just drive past Dartmoor if your purpose whilst there is to see it. A distant view on a drive-by doesn’t fulfil – for me. You have to explore it. Made all the more difficult with a recurring problem on the Land Rover on that holiday from years ago, the problem of which was that once it had appeared, then simply just stagnated there in the background. Euclyd was good at that – throwing a spanner in the works. A spongy clutch whilst motoring was disturbing. So much so that the enjoyment of observing the natural beauty of the Moors as it rolled by wasn’t taken in fully by myself. I was agitated that a problem was occurring, but not making itself fully apparent at the same time. On the other hand I was appreciative of the fact that the clutch was still there working – all be it in an annoying fashion.

Mad Dog Yellow –
Did the memory of those times in the Land Rover make it all the more pleasant that right now I wasn’t in a Land Rover? ………. I wondered to myself as we were driving through the Moors in the VW. I was able to take in the bleakness of the Moors more than on that previous occasion when in the Land Rover because ‘Mad Dog Yellow’ was like a sewing machine for reliability.
Well, whatever the why’s and wherefores’, I knew of a brilliant place to stop. Lydford Gorge for an overnight. Somewhere near there would do. I carried on driving to Tavistock and pitched the caravan at a smart camping site nearby.

Land Rover days –
Those memories though, they were all good. I felt energised by the fact that back along – we had made it work. Together, me and the other half (Troy) had made a whole holiday out of the equipment available to us at the time. Whether the Land Rover stuck it out for us, or we managed it by the skin of our teeth was not up for debate. The resulting scenarios were by definition completely original, and successful, and the memories of those scenarios were fantastic to have.

In the Land Rover, half way around the ring road that circles Dartmoor, we had stopped at a service station. The clutch was still working – just. I had a sinking feeling never the less. It definitely wasn’t right. I removed the bonnet and climbed onto the engine. If there were any adjustment left I was going to use it up. This clutch was going to have to last a whole week of driving everywhere. The pedal was floppy in the car so I brought it back up with the adjustment left over and hoped for the best.
That is the beauty of the Land Rover – just take the bonnet off and climb on in.
With that, we carried on our holiday.
Funnily, no more problems occurred with the clutch that week, not fail problems at any rate. A genuine fact! No more spanners in the works after using the rest of any adjustment to be found. I forded it and off-roaded it and we drove everywhere in it. It didn’t let me down. It lasted all week long and as if by some unseen intervention it hung on in there – until the drive home.

I could tell whilst I was hitching up the caravan that it was all going to go wrong. The clutch was going into a tailspin and this time I knew that for whatever the reason of its accelerating demise, it didn’t have anything much left to give me. Once I had the caravan hitched up I didn’t really care anymore. I couldn’t have asked for more from it. We’d been lucky to have extracted a whole week’s holiday from a vehicle whose clutch was now reduced to virtually nothing.
With everything loaded once again and the caravan hitched on behind, we pulled away from the caravan site.

VW days –
Lydford Gorge was just as good as the last time I had been there.
Dartmoor delivered. Everything was brilliant.
Today I felt like we should do something different. I felt especially happy that after scouting around late on arrival we had stumbled across this caravan site that, being on the edge of the Moor, encapsulated the feeling of holidaying on the Moor itself. So whilst on the Moor, it made sense that we should do something that was orientated towards it.
Hiking was not a consideration. That required specialist equipment for unforeseen circumstances, stuff like weather fluctuations and alike.
Thinking inside and outside the box the consideration to go over the Moors was overriding any other idea such as – visit this, or visit that.
So then, what could possibly be more orientated towards Dartmoor than pony trekking. A light bulb moment from a deep mind search. A curve ball decision for sure.

There’d been a few changes in my life since my Dartmoor holiday with the Land Rover. Evangalisa (girlfriend) was quite adept at horse riding. I on the other hand had no experience. I’d never ridden a horse before. Seemed a great idea now though.
I knew what it was like to ride a bike over rough ground and could easily adapt that same feeling to riding a horse over rough ground. It was a big imagination thing and all great ideas have to start somewhere.

Following on from the pony trekking brainwave plan, a selection process to find somewhere willing to allow a novice on one of their horses took a little while. Once found though, the stables in question, although and because of their incredibly detailed search for clues as to the proficiency of either rider, seemed more than happy to throw me a lifeline there. It wasn’t easy to admit to it that I had never ridden a horse before; ashamedly worried that they wouldn’t allow me anywhere near any of their horses. But they were willing. They were very accommodating.
And with everything hopefully covered, we made way. Today was looking like it would be a very different day. Today we would go horse riding.

17 Hands Albert –
Within the almost mystical shadows and largely unseen parts, (the hidden world of Dartmoor), we drove onto the farm that was to be our destination for the pony trekking. Just like passing through a time-zone, it was. A gateway to the secluded and sheltered, off the beaten track farmyard. Nothing was around from our approach direction, making the appearance of the farm from out of nowhere seem like a film set rather than a working farm. It wasn’t the easiest of places to find amongst a spiders web of small roads.
Parking up I noticed that we weren’t the only ones there. Notably for me at any rate, there was one more car there. On the one hand I had subconsciously accepted that we would be turning up on a farm whose business was to cater for the public in the guise of offering guided horse riding, on the other hand I hadn’t for one minute considered that there would be anyone ese there.
How stupid of me. Come to think of it, was I even thinking straight at all? Was my mind turning into a jumbled, paradoxical mix up of real versus imaginary where the twain refused to meet in a smooth and planned out manner? Why hadn’t I even stopped to consider those two realities, because that’s what they were – realities? I’m suffering from a shy nature in certain areas and a bold and purposeful nature in other areas. There’s two combinations of varying personality, so why couldn’t I – in my mind, have accepted there could therefore be two different combinations of reality? Was I going mad?
No, of course I wasn’t. I was carried along on the crest of a wave and I’d simply overlooked the negatives.
So worse for me was that I now realised I may have to share my beginners experience in the company of others. But you never know, it might prove to be a mix for the better.

Albert’s stables –
This place upon approach, with its remote geography and topography, immediately put me into the frame of mind whereby the secluded quietness and the thought of one to one tuition without being in the company of others, did almost sing in melodic tones in my mind. And then upon actually arriving; immediately disposed of was that jingle bells frame of mind, only to be replaced by a very different one because of the fact that we weren’t the only ones there.
Only having just driven up the road and around the corner onto the farm, the expectation I suppose was to see horses all about and folk sat upon – not that that was the expectation which appealed to me, more like the loneliness of a remote location and just us as the only customers on it did. However, once found, and following a reality check, such was the calmness there – in its idyllic location and the very fact that it was not a busy farmyard full of expensive agricultural machinery, this of which swung it for me in my mind and substantiated the advertised facts that this place was a farm for horse riding. I liked that. Today was going to be a good day. Add to this the fact that the entrance onto the farmyard was skirting a large walled garden from the main farm house then slotted this place into my idea of how a farm from yesteryear should be.

That other car which was also parked up in the yard? There were people in it. There was no one else seemingly around apart from those in the other car and us.
When we turned up in the driveway we were out of our car as soon as stopped. That made sense to me: arrive, park up, get out and find someone. As soon as we closed the car doors there was movement from within the other car, as if they had been waiting for some form of life to show.
A lady appeared from behind a wall in fairly quick succession. She was wearing jodhpurs and riding boots. She was clearly the leading hand here. We greeted her in the form of the new arrivals that we were.
A bloke from the other car was out of his car now and quickly spearheaded an advance which was to intercept and interrupt our acquainting with the horse lady, informing her that he was here first. She made apologies to us and headed off in the direction of the car belonging to this bloke. He led her away from us.
We were left standing, (but not at the fault of the horse lady), alone, together.
There was movement in the other car now; the car that belonged to this other guy. Movement belonging to others who as yet had not got out of it. I had a funny feeling. The occupants of the car were in no rush to get out. It was a bit difficult to tell from our distance. The car had black glass all round. One of the back doors swung open and as the man led the horse lady straight to his car he then pulled the rear door all the way open to reveal a couple of young children in the back seat.
We weren’t quite out of earshot. Some facts were overheard by us. Neither of us could hear the conversation in full, but we heard enough to get the swing of it.
I, upon seeing the occupants of the other car, didn’t feel so apprehensive all of a sudden. I was a beginner, no question about that. But look at these people in the other car, they are but mere toddlers.
All we did was turn up on a farm yard in a car and introduce ourselves to a lady who we had bothered to – more or less, seek out. To the bloke I think – ‘Heh you, yes you over there. We’re people too you know. We didn’t spoil your party because we just turned up here to ride horses as we had agreed on the telephone. Is that what you’re here for? Bloke from London, yes you, we know you know we’re here. We know you’re from London too. Shout it from the rooftops why don’t you.’
We felt invisible. To be fair to the horse lady she was caught unawares.
There was some animated talk going on between the lady in jodhpurs and this guy from the other car. Mainly from him. It didn’t seem all that friendly and my interest was up as I watched. Evangalisa and I looked at each other. The lady in jodhpurs was being harassed if you ask me. Voices became …intense. And it wasn’t the lady’s. I felt like making an interception of my own. Wading in to help the lady in jodhpurs seemed like a good idea, but I didn’t, as it was clear that he was there as a paying customer. He was too keen to make anyone within the vicinity know exactly where he came from and why. He was from London. I did hear that much. There, how’s that for hoity toityness. Hang on a minute, I’ve heard of London, isn’t that the ……….. as if we didn’t know the implied relevance. We’re people too you know. All too keen to express that very subject was he that he may be forgot that we were actually from the same planet.
Should I give way to them because they come from London? Should I give way to them because they couldn’t be bothered to get out from their own car and instead waited for me to head things up? Why did he think that coming from London entitled him to anything over and above anyone else who should turn up that day? How did he know that I wasn’t from London myself? Just because I turn up in a dilapidated old blue VW whilst all the time he is in a posh new car with a high end badge on the grille. The guy was out of order – clearly.
The horse lady must have then said something to upset the guy from London. It must have been a table of events – I guess. I heard that he had come here especially as he was promised specifically a gallop. He seemed to be complaining that he wasn’t going to get one. Maybe that was the case! From this I deduced that the horse lady had expressed certain criteria that he wasn’t happy with.
But no, there was more to come. Now I was hearing that it must have been someone else that promised on the telephone. Maybe a gallop had indeed been promised – for him. Maybe also he hadn’t cleared it in advance that in toe were …additional aspects of the family, possibly un-catered for in the role of a gallop. From this then, maybe the original conversation between voices over the telephone had neglected to mention just how young the other members of the family were. I would have put them at about 5 or 6 years old. Two small children.
The horse lady stated that she would not formalise such a request over the phone without all the necessary information. I don’t blame her, two small kiddies turning up for a gallop on the Moor seemed even to me like wishful thinking.

We were just the bystanders and far from feeling like the queue jumpers that the guy from London had wittingly or possibly unwittingly even left us in the position of appearing, were for one – not, and for two – as being one of those – couple, now magnetised as we were to the confrontation kicking off in front of us by his very own doing. It was entertainment for free. It was unfair entertainment – true. I would not have wished for the horse lady to have to put up with this.
I was in no doubt though, she had everything under control and wasn’t about to be bullied about by some un-country bloke from the city.

Well, if this wasn’t turning out to be a lively day from the very start. I’d turned up here quite nervous. Evangalisa on the other hand was relaxed. My day ahead was going to be a big learning curve. For Evangalisa it was going to be a routine task; riding a horse of which the skills gained were from childhood hobbies. She was experienced, I wasn’t. I didn’t care though. I was nervous, but I was also determined to do this.
The guy from London had unknowingly calmed my nerves. He was loud and we were quiet. We were patiently waiting our turn.
There was a bit of toing and froing verbally and eventually the woman turned about face and disappeared, leaving the bloke stood there with his hands in his pockets. When the horse lady reappeared she was leading two small ponies by a halter. The bloke took one look at the animals and snorted some sort of dislike.
The ponies were offered to the two small kiddies who happily were about to fling a leg over when the London guy yet again voiced his objection. He made it clear that whenever he went riding in London he had bigger horses for his kids.
Respect to the stable lady. She was the boss and I for one was more than happy with that.
She busied herself ensuring the two kiddies were safe on the ponies after saddling them up and then disappeared once more. She returned with another horse, one more suitable for the guy from London. He made to sit on the horse and more or less ignored the stable lady.

The stable lady made her way over to us. She knew we were coming because we had phoned her up to let her know. It was all of a sudden a different day for her. Unlike the guy from London, we were easy to deal with. It wasn’t in our interest to make things difficult. If anything I wanted to make sure the stable lady felt at ease with us, especially after the confrontational meeting we’d just witnessed.
We ran through our details with her and she ran through a few details with us. We were all happy.
The stable lady left us for a short while to go and get a horse. She returned minutes later leading a horse out from the stable block, over to us. The horse was big.
I saw the guy from London watch googly eyed at the big horse being led our way. If ever an example was to be set then it could have been right now, in front of him after he had lost his cool over an obfuscated requirement just moments earlier. Obviously this wasn’t the intention, the horse lady was just carrying out her business in the best way that she could. But, all of a sudden, we looked like we knew what we were doing.
I didn’t. I never had a clue.
It wasn’t just me here however. I’d come with someone who did know what she was doing. Never mind though, I felt ready for this pony trekking and so was she.
The stable lady very obviously knew exactly what she was doing – of course. All those questions beforehand weren’t for no reason. Our honestly orchestrated answers to each question had been noted and acted upon.
I admired the horse as he was led our way. He was deep brown in colour with a white patch running the length of his face from top to bottom. He had a main of black. He was seemingly as confident as the lady was who was leading him over to us. He looked ready for today. That’s just my take on it. This was his thing, that was clear. The horse lady stopped by us and let the horse stand with us.
I mean, Christ almighty, this thing was big! The clip clopping of his hooves on the concrete floor announcing his arrival in a kind of authoritative stance by that alone if you like, the almost………….. positioning of this horse in rank is how he came over. So, I think to myself, ‘let me have a look at you, see what the horse lady has given Evangalisa to ride.’ An impressive horse that’s for sure.
”What’s its name”, I said to the horse lady.
I smiled.
It was obvious to me that the horse was for Evangalisa, and I said as much to both Evangalisa and the horse lady. He was after all a big horse, and being the smaller of the two, I was therefore in deference of the chosen horse for what I saw as the chosen candidate.
“Here’s your horse, darlin”, I said to Evangalisa.
Our gaze swung to the horse lady as she continued the conversation with “No, he’s for you. And his name is Albert.”
I was a bit wide eyed myself now.
Me? I think to myself. I watched the horse lady withdraw to a fence and retrieve a saddle which she returned with and then threw over the horses back. A stable hand appeared from nowhere and strapped the saddle into place, pulling it tight underneath the belly of Albert there.

Uh oh. Mind bogglingly see my horse riding day turn flip flop. Had this woman, who I had the highest regard for, not listened to our request on the telephone after all. I did at the time reiterate my beginners and novice status. I remember telling the lady that I didn’t have the single most clue as to how to ride a horse, or come to that, sit on one even, let alone ride a magnificent horse such as this. He was so big he reminded me of Greek mythology, thoughts of a Trojan horse. 
I did however accept to myself that I should be so lucky. The horse was far too big for me, but…… I’m blessed, but, all the same, there must be some mistake.
The horse lady stood close by and looked at me. She was surprised. But then she would be. Her thoughts were born from a mind full of knowledge about horse riding. I suspected that she was thinking I may know something about horse riding as opposed to the nothing of which I had reiterated by telephone.
I was smiling at the thought of horse riding. I was however more than a little nervous now looking at the animal she expected me to go pony trekking on. In my mind, and being the beginner that I was, I was more expecting a donkey than a horse.
This horse lady sought my attention and appeared somewhat puzzled as she approached me in conversation. “He’s not for Evangalisa, he’s for you” she said to me.
My thoughts stirred –I’m up for a laugh as much as the next one, and that is funny. If it wasn’t so funny it would be scary.
The horse lady had a smile which stayed, but thinned. “Seriously” she said. “He’s great is Albert. He’s such a softy.”
“Yes but, I do think maybe though that my details possibly have been mixed up. You see, I’m the novice here and I’m also the smaller one.”
She would hopefully realise the error that seemed to have been made.
“I know, I know” the horse lady replied. “That’s the precise reason why I chose Albert for you to ride. He’s a big old softy and he’s a gentle giant. I promise you, you won’t have any problems with him. He knows whose on his back. He is the perfect horse for you. I wouldn’t put you on any of the other horses for that very same reason. Trust me. The other horses would know you are a beginner and they would not – probably, be so compliant with you.”
The guy from London was looking visibly upset just over from us. He and his kids were mounted and waiting. The guy could have been thinking he was the ideal person for Albert, such was his demeanour. It seemed a reasonable take on it, what with Albert being such a big horse and all.
He was chuntering away to himself and it didn’t look at all friendly.
I said to the horse lady “OK. Who am I to argue.”
The horse lady gleefully explained to me that Albert was seventeen hands.
“Ugh?” I responded. I understood horsepower, but not hands. Was he big or was he standard?
He was big.

I had to be helped onto the back of Albert. It wasn’t easy, I’d never done this before. The horse lady helped and I stepped up. I apologised for my lack of skills and thanked her at the same time.
Being in the saddle was, and especially as a first time at trying, a bit special I had to say. I knew the format would be to direct this animal the way I see fit, after all, I’d seen plenty of cowboy and Indian films to get a rough idea as to how animals naturally reacted to humans – in as much as the rider was the boss and the horse, after receiving all manner of demands, reacted accordingly.
This would be the first time in my life where I would be allowing another species to have a ruling over my choice. I would ask of the horse for instance this, and the horse would respond for instance with this, but in whichever way, as an animal, he thought fit. Also at the same time by, and as a request from myself. It’s not such an easy position to adopt to if never done before. I’d listened to the horse lady explain her reasons for allowing me to ride aboard Albert. I on the other hand was about to put all my trust into an animal whose train of thought was completely alien to that which was anything I knew of. The thought struck me that now, I, as a human being, was not in the hot seat, as it were.
A whirling array of unanswered disciplines came to mind in allowing Albert to be the master over me. Was I getting beyond myself here in letting my mind wonder through all kinds of possibly altered images, or should I – and I would because there was no other way, just let Albert get on with it. In short I had to trust this creature.
I slotted my feet into the stirrups and grabbed a hold of the reins. Straight away I was aware of an issue. My trousers; which in truth had been a wholly terrible choice of work wear, as they very quickly failed to rise to the challenge required of them, were riding half way up my legs by the time I was mounted properly. This alone was more than enough to change the vision of the challenge ahead and created a hurdle within my mind in that the experience was wanted; desired even, and the comfort of that experience spoilt – in advance, by a decision of my own making. I was slightly agitated. I kept this matter to myself for fear of negating further any positives gained by anyone at all so far, bearing in mind the caustic approach thus far witnessed and served up by others who were along for the ride today.
The horse lady, calm now restored after her ding dong with the guy from London, disappeared once again and came back with a slightly smaller horse for Evangalisa. When I say slightly smaller, it sounds as though that horse may have been significantly different to Albert in size, and as much a full grown horse was being led over to Evangalisa as I’d ever seen, Albert did have the ability to shadow any other.
Evangalisa mounted the horse with apparent ease compared to my effort.
The horse lady once again strode off to the stable block and came back riding her own horse.
She beckoned our attention – all of us. She had an announcement to make. “OK, listen up everyone, all I want you to do is stick with me. We’re just going to wonder off down the road here. It’s a small country lane. All the horses know the route and there’s nothing to worry about.”
At the time we were grouped together in the farm yard in a rough circle of mounted horses. If the driveway out of the farm yard signified the front, then I was at the front. It looked to me then that the guy from London and his kids were at the back and the horse lady and Evangalisa were in the middle.
I had the reins in my hands and made no attempt to move them anywhere. I wanted to be sure that whatever demand I put through the reins was understood by Albert. I was about to ask the horse lady what I was expected to do to make Albert understand me.
I didn’t have to. As soon as the horse lady made way herself with her own horse, Albert bolted and took the lead.

We walked off as a group down the road. I felt guilty in some ways. A group of horses on the road walking tamely with people on them wasn’t the best of road blocks that a car driver would encounter – in my experience. On the other hand, I was about to find out what it was like to be on a horse, riding on the road and cars wishing to pass by on the narrow roads we were riding along. It was time for me to find out what it was like on the other side of the fence.
I looked around and behind me. I wanted to get a look at the horse lady whilst she was riding her own horse. I suppose I was half interested in seeing if she had doubts about me up front there on this massive horse, having never ridden one before. The horse lady had impressed me. So far she’d stood up to an argumentative so and so of a customer and put him in his place. She’d also selected a fine horse for me to go pony trekking on.
Everyone was riding with genuine smiles except the guy from London who looked angry and pissed off.
It struck me whilst plodding along the road here that I wasn’t actually doing anything really. Wasn’t I supposed to make lots of ye ha sounds and at least look as though I was in charge. I’d seen it on telly many times how the horses are continually being ridden in a manner to intend exaggerated purpose. This here right now was nothing of the sort. I just sat there whilst Albert made all the decisions. Yes, the horse lady was correct. The horses all knew what to do. On the other hand, I could just as easily be on a fair ground ride.
As I sat there knowingly without a clue as to how to ride a horse, a thought whirled around in my mind. I accepted that this was my first time on horse and that I didn’t know anything. I found it hard however to address the issue of comfort in the saddle, or more to the point to understand how everyone else seemed very comfortable. The pleasure given to others in the pursuit of horse riding was not replicated here with me. And it wasn’t all down to the sore leg either; that part easily explained because of previous leg trauma and that part of my leg in contact with an annoyingly rubbing stirrup thing.
It was an amazing thing to go horse riding without a doubt. It was odd, didn’t I think though, that this in no way felt anything like natural. Nothing like. It was back jolting awareness with no respite.
Evangalisa, from behind and beside me, spoke with a slightly raised voice and asked me to bounce along with Albert’s stride. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I’d heard about the bounce from folk in the past. ‘You need to bounce with the horse, blah, blah’. If only I had understood what they were talking about at the time. It had all sounded double Dutch to me as much back then as it did now.
I tried to bounce and quickly understood within myself that I should have been trained in horse riding before attempting it. It didn’t feel right. Albert’s stride was as normal, I on the other hand, was sat there and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t enjoying the ride in terms of true saddled up comfort. If I bounced – deliberately, I ended up bouncing at the wrong moment. I tried to alter the timing. Whilst on the move I found that to be awkward. I really was the novice. Lower back trauma from various accidents in the past ensured I felt every step Albert made and was felt even worse if I tried to bounce along with his stride because I simply had no idea.
The horse lady also started to talk to me and issued instructions of her own. She was explaining the basics; how to sit, how to bounce, how to steer – things like that, or at least I supposed that was what she was saying. Here came the second problem: I had to make it clear I couldn’t hear her, I was after all, hard of hearing. So I ended up shouting louder than maybe she was used to in order that she may shout back. The theory here is (being hard of hearing) that if you shout, it may be apparent without having to explain it that hard of hearing is what’s going on here. That theory would in my mind then be accepted with a reciprocal shouting back so that I could hear what she was saying to me. Clear as mud if you can hear properly.
She increased her speed in an effort to catch up with me, so that she could make herself understood I suppose. I think she was beginning to understand that what I had explained to her before getting on the horse was in fact true and not a fabricated tale. I could hear the clip clopping of her own horse getting faster.
With that, I felt beneath me the muscles in Albert tense and strain up as they took on a different perspective from the orderly and tame walk we had been involved in so far. Albert upped the pace. His ears moved as he obviously picked up something he needed to react to. He took off.
I issued commands of my own now. I wasn’t sure of the exact phrases that would work in the horse kingdom, but was happy to guess some in order to try and bring Albert to a stop, all of which failed. I didn’t remember flipping the reigns in any way. Why would he just go like that!

I had been uncomfortable moments before whilst we were plodding down the road at a slow pace. Now that we were in a fast trot I was feeling a bit panicky, as Albert clearly had intentions of his own. This was the time that the horse took matters into his own hands. This was the time where from previous thinking I had decided to trust this creature. Was it therefore my fault that whereas before I had no control over what Albert did and now I had even less? I caught myself thinking about the guy from London at the back of the group. He was the one who wanted a gallop and here was I in a fast trot at the front of the group with no idea as to how to control the situation. Albert felt like a lumbering machine below me, the power and weight of which I didn’t want to think about. I shouted again to the horse lady “How do I stop him? He won’t do what I want him to do”.
“Pull the reigns in”, the horse lady shouted to me – in the best possible taste, and she really did shout this back to me. By now she was falling further behind. I was out front gaining ground on all the others heading out to who knows where. I only hoped that Albert knew where he was heading as I struggled with the reigns. I did exactly as the horse lady asked. The effect felt about as hopeless as I felt on the back of Albert. There was no effect. Albert simply ignored anything I did with the reigns. I pulled and pulled and he kept on going.
“It’s not working”, I shouted back to the horse lady. I turned my head to the rear and saw the rest of the group receding into the distance.
“Just keep pulling” she shouted back, her voice sounding louder but more distant than before.
Worse than being on a horse on the road, I was out of control on a horse on the road. What’s more, shouting was a cause for concern to me as to how Albert would take that. He must have sensitive ears and there was me making things worse – probably scaring him a bit.

The horse lady summonsed on a turn of speed from behind in order to catch up. She was soon closer behind than of recent and was not seemingly having the same kind of effect on Albert this time around.
Out of the blue, Albert started slowing and I turned to look behind me again to see the others trotting faster too, making ground on me. It was a confusing situation to be in. It was almost like ‘learn by scare tactics’. And whatever the scenario from here on in, I was determined to stay on the back of Albert. It wasn’t like I was going to jump of any time soon. A quick flashback to a night out years before riding a bucking bronco at a night club resulted in me jumping off after the machine failed to do that by itself. I’d gotten a bit bored with its so that in the end I’d decided just to get off. I wasn’t planning the same move here, that was for sure.
It was slightly worrying that if the others behind me all caught me up I might well end up going faster once again.
The stable hand lady eventually sidled up to the side of us and said to me in a slightly raised voice “He doesn’t like being behind the other horses. Don’t worry, we won’t overtake you. He likes to take the lead.”
I replied ”OK, but look, I did say I’d never ridden a horse before. I am struggling a bit.” I was being good natured about it all. I kept my tone friendly and smiley. I was keen to not look anything like the guy from London appeared.
I was conscious of all this shouting and raised voices. To even the most beginner of beginners I stood out as the least knowledgeable of them all. And Albert knew that as well. That was the whole purpose in the first place that Albert and I were partnered.
The horse lady to give her due was very patient. She went on to say “I know, I didn’t think he was going to react like that. He’ll be alright now. We’re going to fall back a little bit and he’ll come round.” She pacified me with that and Albert seemed to understand the tone in her voice.
Albert slowing down just might allow me enough time to ease the pain in my leg. I was pissed with myself for turning up to ride a horse with training shoes on and these loose trousers. At the time it seemed like a good idea. If I’d had the sense to pack my motorcycle boots it would have been a much more pleasant ride.

Unbelievably, Albert slowed to a walk and all the others behind me caught up. I looked behind me again and the horse lady indicated to me that I should yank back on the reigns. I did this and to my surprise Albert came to a stop. I looked ahead and there were traffic lights for some local house construction that jutted out into the road from behind a blind bend. Albert had stopped at the lights. The lights were red. It wasn’t more of a surprise that the traffic lights were red. It was more of a surprise that Albert actually stopped after I yanked on the reigns. I’m not sure I had the measure of this horse yet. He did however get my respect.
It had been an interesting and complete experience so far and as yet I hadn’t fully appreciated what it was like to be relying on another creature from this planet. If relying on another creature was to be understood, I didn’t get it. So far I had the impression that Albert – although he knew I was sat on his back, also knew I never had a clue how to restrain him and who cared anyway, this was his bag. Was then this horse taking advantage of me as a human being? It was a good question to ask myself whilst sat in the saddle.
I looked behind again and started laughing. We all started laughing, including the two kiddies from London. The guy from London didn’t laugh. He couldn’t see the funny side of things. We all laughed more and more. You can’t buy entertainment like that, at least not by realising it. We’d payed for the days riding expecting something entirely different.
The guy from London had a sense of humour failure. He almost wasn’t involved here. He was at the back and the action was all happening ahead of him.
The horse lady, Evangalisa and I all had a conversation in order that I could best understand how to manage Albert for the rest of the afternoon. At that time we weren’t far from the off road part that we would end up on.
And then the traffic lights turned green. We all trotted off and Albert regained some of his composure from before when he was head horse in the lead from the off. He went striding off with his head held high.

For me it was pretty intense. In all my time around farm animals, I considered myself to have some of the measure of them.
Back on the farm from years previously I loved to talk to the cows and there were some that had the measure of me too. Animals had personalities. They could be good, they could be naughty. Aboard Albert was the slightly unconnected missing link for me to the animal kingdom. I knew the strength of a cow for instance. Now I knew the strength of a horse too. I knew you could mentally tune into the same frequency of a cow if you could find one that wanted to mentally tune into your own frequency. In all those years it would seem I never had the experience whereby the animal was the thinking boss.
I can segregate those experiences with farm animals from pets such as cats. These are very different animals. It just made me think. Appreciate more. Consider more. This horse was taking me for a ride. It wasn’t the other way around.
But he was also the most understanding of creatures to my plight of amateur horse rider, albeit ensuring he remains the master of the Dartmoor pony trek.
We trotted a bit further and left the road behind eventually. We headed into the Moor itself. The lady asked me to stop Albert. It seemed Albert was ok with me yanking on his reigns now and he complied with the corresponding pull. We all gathered in a group. The horse lady asked me if I wanted to go for a gallop, as by now we had reached a bit of an opening. It seemed that this was the piece of ground that she chose for the horses to have a bit of a gallop around, or more to the point it was where she opted to go for a gallop with the family from London. I declined her offer. My leg was sore and I was keen to preserve the little status quo that was left there.
I was actually quite happy just sitting astride Albert and watching the proceedings from my own vantage point.
The horse lady approached the guy from London and proceeded to spell it out – in no unreasonable terms by the looks, that if he wanted his two kiddies to go for a gallop then this was the place to do it. There was no doubting that she had a responsibility so it did look as though she was not going to be argued with.
Evangalisa and I sat there talking together.
The guy from London was seemingly livid.
It looked as though the horse lady was explaining certain criteria maybe. Yes, that was definitely it. Surely it was unreasonable to expect two very small children to be able to go off for a gallop on a moor. I couldn’t imagine those two kiddies going for a gallop anywhere without the fullest of guidance and tuition.

Here we were. I’m perched on top of the back of a big horse who definitely knew I was there. He was more intelligent than I gave credit for. He was so switched on he knew exactly the type who was riding him that day. Let’s face it, I was still riding this horse. He was under these very circumstances his own boss and I’m sure that’s the way he liked it. I’m ecstatic all the same. I’m loving every second of it if I’m going to be honest with myself. I couldn’t ignore the various aches and pains it’s true. I had to overlook those to get the best out of this day and that was exactly what I was prepared to do. I couldn’t completely ignore but I could overlook.

As a package the pony trekking had turned out not to be with ponies at all. Sat there in the opening on the Moor gave me time to recover. Albert stood waiting patiently. Evangalisa had brought her horse up to the side of me and Albert. I was a bit in admiration of how Evangalisa made her horse comply with her reign input whilst all I could do was accept whatever direction or pace Albert felt like at the time. So the more I thought about it the more I came to accept that the horse lady really did know her stuff. She knew she had made the right choice and if I had been on any other horse the result may have been very different. Being highlighted as a beginner is something not of everyone’s choice of focal point. To be truthful I wasn’t sure it was in mine. On a horse in Dartmoor that vision had changed with immediate effect. I was happy to be seen as a beginner.

The horse lady busied herself with the family from London. There was some gesticulating from the guy from London in my direction. I got the impression that I was being spoken about – and not favourably either. Frankly, I couldn’t really care. It was an achievement to get this far. Evangalisa of course had found the riding a more natural experience, as she was used to it.
I was expecting some galloping to take place. That was the point behind the exercise with these folk from London. For me, it was hard enough to walk with Albert let alone trying to imagine what the experience would be like if he truly broke into a gallop. I didn’t care about that stuff even though the offer had been there. I was surprised that the horse lady had offered me a gallop, considering the novice I was. All faith restored in her by that alone. She had so far put me on the back of the biggest horse seen this side of TV, left me alone up front of pack to get on with it, and now she was more than happy not only to leave me sat there astride Albert whilst she sorted her galloping arrangements out, but offer a gallop to me as well. She definitely knew Albert. She had complete confidence in how he would or wouldn’t react whilst she was somewhere close by. I relaxed. I needed to. My leg hurt but so what. Today was entertainment off the scale.

I sat there watching and talking through the scene with Evangalisa We couldn’t be heard by the others from our position now that they had seemed to wonder off a little, separating them from us by more than listening distance. They wouldn’t hear us talking. Evangalisa and myself ran a commentary of our own, just to pass the time. She was explaining the finer details to galloping a horse. I was watching the kiddies from London getting their talk from the stable lady.
The guy from London was clearly not that impressed.
Whilst sat there, on the back of Albert, gave me the chance to observe the power of this animal. Like nothing ever done before by myself; to tune into and sync with a horse. He was great. He was doing horsey things, twitching, ear moving, horsey noises and tail swishing. Maybe he barely noticed me there. Hopefully I wasn’t like an irritating insect that needed to be squashed.
We watched the horse lady grab each horse belonging to each child and run alongside them one at a time. This was the gallop as good as it was going to get. Looked to me like the horse lady hadn’t been told the full truth when she signed these folk from London up. The bloke didn’t go for a gallop of his own. I suppose he could have. But he didn’t.
When the horse lady was finished with each child, there was some small talk between her and the bloke and she returned to her own horse. I think the horse lady had given more than she should or wanted to. I think she wasn’t happy about letting two very small kiddies go for a gallop so did the best she could under the circumstances.

We all returned to the stables in the same order that we had departed from them earlier in the day. Albert was up front.
Once back at the farmyard the bloke from London dismounted his horse. He similarly dismounted his kids from their ponies and ensured they were back on the ground again. The horse lady approached him after dismounting from her horse and signalled praise to him for undertaking the pony trekking experience; not that he could be bothered to signal reciprocal thanking. Like a spoilt city bloke he loaded his car up with his family and drove off, more or less without a by or a leave. He never made to thank the horse lady in any way, he never made to present himself as a respectful human being, he just loaded up and drove off.

All the horses used by the family from London were gathered by the horse lady who then disappeared to put them away again.
I made a fuss of Albert and thanked him. I hoped he understood how much pleasure he had delivered today. I patted him on the neck and rubbed his flanks. I went around to his front and did as much as I was able to say thanks to him. How do you do that?
I didn’t want to drive off myself – not yet. I felt the day was not done for horse riding. We stayed and talked to the horse lady for a while and thanked her for a great day out.
It was brilliant. A top day with a horse called Albert. It wasn’t like I had tamed the head strong horse, it was like sitting in the company of a different being and understanding some way’s as to how his mind worked. This wasn’t just an eating machine. This was an intelligent, understanding, compliant, focused animal.
I talked to Albert. I wanted him to know what a fantastic day he had given to another creature from this planet. King of horses, Albert the Great.
I was proud to have been associated with Albert and proud to have been able to give him a day out as much as he had given me a day out.

Land Rover days, Euclyd –
In the Land Rover, we were heading back home. The horse riding venture; which was part of the Dartmoor experience during the blue VW days, was way ahead into the future.
Right here and right now we were in the Land Rover on the way home from a vacation on Dartmoor. I’d been, well …… expectant I suppose, at what I’d wanted of the Land Rover. It was built for a purpose and I wanted to use it for a purpose. I’d wanted to ford it and I’d wanted to off road it and I’d done just that, where allowable.
And that underlying fault was always there, in the background. How the Land Rover kept going was a mystery. The floppy clutch pedal that I had rescued to something better than it had been, hadn’t manifested itself into anything more major throughout the whole week other than an annoying issue that could go at any time. The thought of replacing that clutch whilst on holiday never did seriously occur to me and I don’t know why. I suppose I just wanted to get the most from it and if it did work then why bother garaging it. It was just going to have to wait until I got home or whenever it broke.
I know I would have had to have had it repaired if we were literally stranded, but it didn’t quite break.
I knew now though, on the homeward bound journey from the very start, that I had a problem. And it was the clutch. Where there had been some resemblance of a clutch, now there was barely one at all anymore. It was all used up. To be fair it had lasted the whole week. It had gotten me this far.

Hitching up the caravan was a precarious affair. Reversing up to a caravan when all the time knowing that the clutch was virtually useless was dangerous if nothing else.
Getting under way was a relief. By the time I had gotten underway from the camping site my concerns had been fully realised. The mechanicals were teetering on a precipice and were going to let go at any time. My figuring was that if I could just get us on the big main road home I could then relax a bit. I still wouldn’t have a practical and fully useable clutch to drive with. It would however get us home, or somewhere near. I was confident about that.
And so the big main road approached, slowly and surely. We’d soon get off these small back roads and open up a bit of freedom. There was a sense of achievement in a way in driving the small roads. And with a caravan on the back too. All that without a clutch even more so. Undoubtedly I’m sure as not seen the same way by any other road user. I enjoyed the driving experience on those roads, with or without a compromised vehicle. I suspected today would bring along with it new challenges that would fast see the enjoyment of all that tried to the last degree. In reality that was the easiest part of the journey.
Upon reaching the big main road we could then cruise on and choose the right speed to adopt bearing in mind the problem we faced with the travel back home.
This vehicle was once again the impeccable master of late calls, Hanging in there it was. Soon though to be throwing down the gauntlet in the form of what would be a masterclass in facing adversity and challenging back in return. That was my view. It was nothing to do with me being intelligent and getting the better of by way of superior thinking. If anything it was more by luck than other. You could say it was more a case of my ignorance, refusal to accept fully, or maybe even bloody mindedness.
That said, what better vehicle to do it in than a Land Rover.
What better indeed. I’d put my faith in this old vehicle and so far it had been brilliant.

We eventually reached the big road homeward bound and coasted along in what appeared a normal fashion. I used every bit of smooth driving technique I could think of to dampen any ill effects that the mixture of mechanical workings and failed parts together may create.
There was a few gear changes coming up for traffic – the inevitable slow moving cars up ahead at various intersections. A few gear changes further on and that’s when the clutch let go completely. I let Troy know this and started to prepare an outline rescue operation, or at least something that looked like I had some idea. Luckily for me I was able to pull into a layby alongside the road and stop in order to take a closer look. Maybe even salvage something. Once stopped I was out of the driver’s seat and with tools to hand then had the bonnet off double quick. I climbed over the engine to see if there was anything I could do. On the face of it a competent looking move if nothing else. Keeping busy, in my mind, allowed me time to come up with some kind of plan that would pacify us both.
I don’t know exactly why I was refusing to accept breakdown. That was the fundamental point here when examined mentally. This car had helped me to get a whole week of use out of it when it shouldn’t have. I guess I just wanted it to be a few more hours compliant to my requirements. But the clutch was no longer a working part of the vehicle.
Troy, far from panicking about a hopeless position to be in, set about making a cooked lunch in the caravan. Bloody good detail!
Time to think and time to regroup. A team effort ensuring some calmness remained there on the side of the road.
Climbing off the engine compartment I knew when I was beat. There wasn’t a thing I could do to fix the problem with the clutch.
I stepped into the caravan and plonked myself down next to Troy. It was warm inside with the comforting smells of cooking. Instantly relaxed by the homely feeling I talked about where we were and how we stood. “This thing’s fucked” I said to Troy.
There was no hurry so we sat there eating our cooked lunch, talking and chewing the cud over the why’s and wherefores’ and the previous week’s events. In fact, we had a good old laugh about it. We’d been lucky, no question.
Deep thinking on my behalf made me wonder that – I wasn’t sure that I could read the Land Rover even a fraction as much as I got the impression it could read me. For my part I was just hopeful it would deliver. For the Land Rover it was ……………………or was I just being stupid here. A bit like it knew what was required of it, almost like a twilight zone.
Troy asked me how we were going to get out of this situation. I made out that I’d done all I could mechanically; which was nothing except dredge out the last piece of adjustment I could find and that was a week ago. The clutch pedal now was a useless piece of metal in the way.
“It’s ok, I’ll think of something”, I says back. For the reason of cooking and warmth and eating hot food and Troy as she was and sitting in good atmosphere; the fact that we were sitting in caravan at a layby on the side of the main highway between Exeter and home with a broken down Land Rover, outweighed the negatives; which then placated me. At last the clutch had let go. It could have gone at any time during the whole week and it waited until now. Could have been worse.
“Let’s just finish our lunch first, to be honest I feel quite chilled. Heh? Pass us the bread can you please, I’m going to have some bread and butter too.”
Troy laughed at that. She felt placated too now. She joined my relaxed mood and together we had a great lunch there on the side of the road. Eventually we got back onto the subject of how we were going to get home. She says to me “haven’t you got any breakdown cover.”
I was drinking a cup of tea by now and I thought about that. “Yeah, reckon I have at that, let’s have a look in my wallet a minute.” I dredged out a piece of mangled cardboard with a firms phone number and details on it. “Yeah, good call” I said. “I’ve got this, I reckon they’ll pick us up. Couldn’t be sure though.”
Troy’s mystified. “Huh?”, she goes. “Why not? We’re broken down aren’t we?”
“Oh yeah, we’re broken down, that’s for fucking sure. Trouble is, last time I used this was when I crashed my Maestro van.”
Troy knew nothing of this so I explained the story from back along.

“We’re – the ex-wife and I, are on our way to London to watch one of my brother’s being introduced onto a Saturday night entertainment programme in a studio at the TV company. The programme is being aired live on the telly that night and me being family; there’s free tickets up for grabs. That appealed less to me with the time factoring not in my favour. In fact the fee tickets were as good as binned as far as I was concerned and I’d worked that one out whilst I was still at work that day. I never wanted to go there. Well I did, but I knew that by having worked that day I wouldn’t be ready in time and so was happy just to watch it on the television. I would have had to bust a gut just to get to London on time let alone park up. It was already early evening by the time got around to picking her up (at the time she was just a girlfriend), so I explained all the facts to her at the time, but as always she knew better. I tells her we won’t make it on time and she starts complaining about never going anywhere. Huh, she should have been so lucky. I took her everywhere up and down the country to all sorts of shows, on vacations, weekends away, nights out, cinema every week, meals etc, etc, etc, and everything when lots of dating couples was the most they could do to go to the local disco. Anyway, in the end I give in and says to her to get in the van then and we’ll go. Reluctantly for me we head off. To be honest I just didn’t want to go to all the effort when it was ok to watch it on the telly. Anyway, we’re London bound and eventually we gets out of this fucking stupid queue at Ringwood where we got held up for too long. Timing is all fucked up good and proper now so it’s a total waste of time. As usual the ex-wife can’t shut up complaining. I hit the gas on the dual carriageway in the fast lane. A momentary glance sideways by myself at a naked lady on the side of the road and before you know it, by the time I look forward again the bloke in front of me ………………..
“What?”, Troy says out of the blue. “You was looking at a naked la…………”.
“No”, I replied. “I just made that bit up, I did look sideways though.”
Troy lets me resume from where we left off.

………………… Anyway, this bloke in the car in front of me has slowed in a hurry – in the fucking fast lane can you believe it? Not entirely his fault it has to be said because some twat in the car in front of him brakes suddenly whilst in the fast lane on a dual carriageway cause he wants to turn off on a slip road to the right, or maybe admire the scenery or something. Let’s suppose it’s his turning and it took him off guard. He obviously forgot where he was, where the turning was or was just downright being a fucking arse and doesn’t realise until he’s practically opposite the slip road that he either forgot his turn, or suddenly stops day dreaming or something and jams his anchors on. No indication. I’m also in the fast lane doing what you’re supposed to do in a fast lane and just about, almost, in slow motion kind of thing, ploughs into the back of the guy in front of me. His cars a mess cause he was going fast at the time just like me, except he must have been closer to the guy in front of him than I was to him. Even though the guy in front of me tried to slow down and with the car in front of him stopped or stopping, he ploughs right into the car in front of him too. The car directly ahead of me ends up back and front shunted. Luckily for me I’m in a Austin Maestro van and it’s built like a battle tank. I also managed to get some breaking in too so slowed the force of the impact quite a bit. In fact I very almost stopped in time, it was that close. The guy in front of me definitely didn’t nearly stop in time. He wasn’t so fortunate as he was the car in the middle of what ended up as a Ford Escort sandwich. Funny thing was that the Escort in the middle was a mess. I couldn’t believe how he ended up with the back and front doors crimped up. I impacted for sure. My van though was drivable and hardly showed any difference.
There’s a huge queue forming now because we’re a road block in the fast lane. My van looks minor squashed a bit up front, you know – a creased bonnet – hardly shows, and a flattened steel bumper, also hardly shows, but guess what? No leaks!
We’re all out in the road. Squabbling is going on because who caused it and all that. The usual melee of bickering as you can imagine. So I call this firm, here on this piece of cardboard to come and sort out the damage. I wanted them to tow me away cause from my point of view it was a car crash.
Meanwhile, the old bill turn up and I’m told to drive the van over to the garage forecourt on the other side of the road in order to in some way clear a passage here on the highway. So I do just that. Strange that cause I thought stuff should stay where it is. The thing is, my van looked ok except for a slight kink in the bonnet and a flatter than normal front bumper so l guess he reckons I wasn’t involved at all.
A little later this recovery firm turn up and I wave them over to me, as by now I’m back in the road talking things over with the old bill and the other folk involved.
The recovery driver guy arrives and I wave him over to us. He comes over to me and looks completely confused. I don’t look like I belong to a car here. So he says to me “Where’s your car, mate.”
So I goes “Oh, right , yeah, uh, well, it’s over there on the garage forecourt.”
This guy thinks I’m having a laugh – genuinely!
He says back to me “Well who drove it over there? It was driven there wasn’t it?”
So I say back to this guy “I did, and yeah, it was driven over there, from where we are now. I was told to put it there. I got involved in this unfortunately and although my van looks ok, I was part of it”.

I was embarrassingly telling this story that hadn’t been brought to light before whilst with Troy, recalling the details from years gone by as I summonsed up the footage from my memory.
It felt good to get it off my chest after all these years. It wasn’t exactly something I was proud of.
I resume the story from years gone by and Troy is listening with interest.

“I get the impression the recovery driver guy thinks it’s a wind up. There’s two smashed motors in the road and neither of the drivers requested his assistance. I, on the other hand did and my motor is on the garage forecourt, looking for all the world like it wasn’t even involved.
To be fair to recovery firm driver, he can’t even see the front end of my van because when I parked it up on the garage forecourt I didn’t go through all the usual reversing into a parking space (as I like to do) because the cops asked me to put it there and didn’t ask for pernickety parking obsession at the same time, as is my way. So all the recovery firm driver can see is the back end of my van and it all looks good.
The recovery firm driver scratched his head for a short while and comes to a decision based on the fact I guess that if he recovers a drivable vehicle he could be in trouble back at base. So he says to me “If you drove it over there to the forecourt then you can drive it home.”
“Then he fucks off, can you believe it?”

Troy looks at me and says back “So what’s that got to do with now?”
I thought about that for all of a microsecond and went back to her “Well, this is me we’re talking about here you know. They might have me registered as some nut job who likes to waste their time.”
“Yes”, Troy goes, “but we are broken down this time, aren’t we?
And I’m like “Well yeah, we are. But I think we can get home alright.” I didn’t want to turn a pleasant Sunday afternoon lunch in a layby into bad karma so quickly countered with the idea I had dreamt up, after she says to me –
“What are we going to do?”
“Well”, I said, “it’s going to be a team effort from the word go. I’m going to need you and I’m going to be relying on you. Are you up for it?”
Anyone could do what I was going to ask her to do. But this was Troy we’re talking about here. Very focused on cooperation. Maybe looks over and above what is needed and therefore sort of loses that focus and gains another. I just wanted to make sure.
“I don’t know, it depends what you’ve got in mind. Am I going to be able to do whatever it is?” She was sceptical. She’d never learnt to drive a car so this must have seemed all a bit daunting.
“Yeah, no problem, it’ll be an adventure”, I says to her.
“OK”, she says, “let’s do it.” I guess she figured out it was this way or no way. I could be a bit set in my ways sometimes and changing, or trying to change my mind would be wasted effort. If she guessed that much she was right.

Everything gets cleared up and tidied into the caravan. I fix the bonnet back onto the Land Rover and stash the tools away. We jump into the Land Rover and fasten our safety belts. To Troy it all seemed a bit like I said it would be – like an adventure. That was good. And once agreed to, this was something she was not about to back out of either.
Here we were, sat in a Land Rover which had one vital component missing. That much she did understand, or get, even though to her a clutch was about as familiar as an alien spacecraft.
I explained the mechanics of the clutch in layman’s terms so that she would understand (hopefully) the reasons why we were going to do things this way. Then I explained what it was that I wanted from her. I only wanted cooperation on a full scale alert basis and there was no one better to help along quite frankly. I was happy, she was happy.
Now that I definitely had her attention the actual aspect of getting home was now acknowledged as possible, maybe, by her.
“Like I said, it’ll be an adventure”, I closed by saying to her.

I fired up the Land Rover and sat there in exaggerated silence whilst the engine chugged over. A disrupted day was turning into a Craggy Island joy ride by the second. I sat there in silence. I made out an invisible check list in a silent countdown just to gather willingness in my own mind and to define the exact moment in time when I would push the start to go button, as it were
All the time I knew myself that this would be pretty easy really. There were risks it was true. Risks that I felt sure I would overcome without too much problem if the need arose.
Driving without a clutch may not be every one’s idea of a Sunday afternoon trek; and without the choice available to drive with one it wouldn’t ordinarily have been mine either. But needs must and all that.
I sat there in silence trying to imagine what possible variations of risk I may happen across. The engine was in idle and the big old diesel engine banged away in the front there sounding just great, easing some of the building tension just by being there and diverting some of the attention.
Troy wasn’t privy to the inner windings from within my mind. All she had to go on was the explanation I had expressed earlier.
“OK”, I said. “You ready?”
“Yes, I think so. You sure you’ve covered everything I need to do?”
“Yep, you’ll ace it” I said. “Just don’t panic, ok? Remember, I’m only here and much as I want to know about it if you see anything, I don’t want any shouting going on in my ear. I’m going to have enough problems of my own.”
“Alright” she says back to me.
“OK, let’s do it”, I said. “Right, remember this, the clutch is fucked, it’s gone, it isn’t there anymore. I’m going to select a gear here and this thing is going to jump a bit, alright?”
“OK” she says. I take a good look behind me and check the fast moving road for traffic. Last thing I wanted to do right now was put this thing in gear and find out I’m in the wrong place for moving traffic and then either have to turn the ignition off, yank the handbrake on or just stamp on the footbrake and either combination of any of them was going to stop me in a spluttering and jerky action that I wanted to avoid.
When I spotted a clear patch in the traffic I put the gearbox into first gear and the Land Rover lurches with a crunch of gears and a lumpy movement in forward motion. There’s no clutch pedal to push down on so weirdly I sit there and let my left hand side foot stretched out to the end of the footwell.
It was a lumpy start, true, but not too bad under the circumstances. Troy and I exchanged sideways glances and we smiled.
I pulled onto the fast main road and explained to Troy the next step. “I’m going to put the box into second gear and it’s going to work just fine. It won’t seem right and it won’t be right. The thing is …..”.
“Hang on” says Troy, “I thought you said you didn’t have a clutch so you can’t change gear”.
“I said I didn’t have a clutch, I didn’t say I couldn’t change gear. Just trust me. I can get through the gears this way, you know – up through the box. Getting the other way – down through the box, won’t be quite so simple”. I pulled the gear lever downwards into second gear whilst holding the revs pretty much the same. Little point in backing off the revs, we were only crawling as it was. The momentum felt like magic as second gear engaged and took hold and I could increase the revs to get some speed up. “As I was saying”, I said to Troy, “what goes up has to come down”.
Troy made a visible head turn, even in my peripheral vision, and she said “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.
“Look”, I replied, “I just changed into second gear. Well right now we’re cruising in second gear down a motorway, get my drift? That’s probably worse than lane hogging as far as road law is concerned. Right here and right now I’m considering changing up to third gear, just so we don’t end up causing a queue all the way back to Exeter. That’s the dilemma I face right now and like I said, what goes up has to come down”.
Troy was no car driver so I had to cut some slack here and carried on talking in as much an explanatory fashion as I could summons.
“Right, to put it simply, if I’m trawling along happily in third gear and then I have to change down to second, there’s no clutch to disengage the engine from the gearbox so everything is going to be turning around fast. Basically I’m going to throw one gear into another and they’re going to collide like two moving objects into one won’t go. That’s what’s going to happen when these little babies are sent spiralling into each other. But to get that far I have to get them up through the box, so shit or bust, here we go. We have to go faster than this. I’m going to shift into third gear and get some speed underway. Thing is, I really need you to keep an eye out for me. To go down the gears I’m going to have to premeditate the traffic if there’s a junction coming up. That means I’m going to have to start slowing way in advance, or speeding up, whichever is the most necessary before reaching the choke point”.
“Why can’t you drive with hazard winkers on” Troy says.
I smothered a laugh and said “Say what? You’re having a laugh aren’t you. That’s illegal”. I wobbled my head a little bit for effect and we drove onwards.

As the road was big, fast and straight, there was time to chat and have a laugh. Couldn’t have been a better time or place to have a right old laugh about our circumstances. We made gestures and names of various folk going past us in their cars knowing they wouldn’t realise we were driving a compromised vehicle, instead laughing at the fact that they must be thinking we were a couple of idiots causing road havoc through stupidity as opposed to wringing the neck of a machine and doing the best to squeeze out the drive home.
It was brilliant.
What a fantastic way to finish up the holiday.

Chugging away in third gear for mile upon mile would have been even more embarrassing than it felt had it not been for the fact that together, Troy and I had laughed ourselves all the way back so far.
We’d covered a few roundabouts and some bendy roads and tens and tens of miles and Troy had the measure of what I wanted. I guess we’d been lucky in some ways because the traffic just worked for us, simple as that.

It was all the much better because in our favour the weather was good. In fact it was better than just good, it was a great summer’s day. That was a big bonus of which I was very glad for. If I was to think back through the years I’d had a few occasions when the weather had not been in my favour in times that could have been said to be very similar.
With an unconscious smile the memory vault opened a vivid scene from that stupid time my van stopped going on the side of the road.
Yeah, I remember that. Now was not like that time though. That time had me stopped on the side of a road in the darkness of night. Foul weather with wind and rain. The van just stopped with no warning. Worse still it had just been through a mechanical fix at a local garage. At the time of break down, and for obvious reasons, I seriously had my doubts about the garage involved because there I was stranded. In terms of years it wasn’t so far back that I didn’t have a simple cell phone which I could make a phone call with. I’d called dad and asked if he could come and give me a tow back. As I was stuck at Weymouth it wasn’t an unreasonable request, not being all that far from home. Dad agreed that he would and he’d turned up with a tow rope to tow me back. We hitched the van onto the end of the rope and I was there with a van that no longer had any engine or power steering. It was shit weather and it was black as tar that night. Trouble was, at the time – after I was hooked up and we were homeward bound, stupidly, I felt the crave for having a roll up smoke.
The brakes were as good as useless without the engine supplying the assistance. Plus it was raining and I had to switch the ignition on to power up the wipers; which were slow because the engine didn’t work. Add to that I had some shite headlights because the battery wasn’t getting any charge. All in all it was a pretty stupid idea – having a roll up fag at the same time.
We made it back.
Anyway, that was back then …. And the memories came flooding back. In retrospect they can be quite funny. I remember that wasn’t funny at the time. Unlike now, this trip was a laugh a minute.

I wouldn’t have thought of that night broken down in my van if it hadn’t been for this ludicrous attempt we were embarked upon right now
Troy and myself were having a ball. There was some honking going on from passers-by who had been frustrated behind us for too long. We were using the most descriptive language to them in return, knowing of course that for all that time we were governed not by our own lack of care and attention, but by that of a vehicle that we were determined to at least try and get home. Made all the more difficult of course by the fact that on the back was a caravan. We were your archetypal caravaner holiday makers!
What could possibly be better than to nurse this thing all the way home. I didn’t think I would be able to do it though. I had a nasty feeling that when I got as far as Dorchester I might as well give up then because every time you get to Dorchester the bloody bypass is nose to tail at a standstill. In my mind I was only ever going to aim for Dorchester. After that I would be close enough to home to figure out another way to get back, even if it meant leaving the whole lot in a layby for the night.

As the scenery went by, so did the distance to home shorten. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. It was an accomplishment to get as far as we had without the aid of a clutch. Moreover, it was an accomplishment to get this far without further incident.
I was scanning the road ahead and I was fairly familiar with this road. I knew that shortly we would be on the last stretch home once we had traversed through another village which was ahead somewhere.
I turned and saw that Troy was looking sideways at the passing scenery. She’d relaxed a little bit her highly focused forward observation, now at ease with the situation. I was quite happy. It wasn’t without appreciation to accept that in light of this she’d done all that I had asked for.
That’s when I uttered the words “fuck” quite loudly. “fuck, fuck, fuck”, I said.
Troy was all ears and her attention was suddenly switched from ‘letting things roll’ to ‘focused lookout’. “What’s the matter “ she says back to me.
“Look up there”. I pointed with one hand through the windscreen.
Troy takes a look, scanning all that was visible through the windscreen. She sees nothing of interest. She asks again.
I remained calm, half-heartedly dividing my attention between the forthcoming obstacle, driving, and any avoidance techniques I could think of. “Up there”, I said. I’d backed off on the revs now and that was immediately noted by Troy herself. Curiously her own attention is drawn down into the drivers footwell. Not that there was anything wrong there except for the fact that the clutch pedal was still as useless as it had been an hour or so earlier. She wasn’t a car driver, but one day I would teach her. I found it funny that when I was pointing out the windscreen, she’d by this time diverted her attention elsewhere. Oh well, So far so good and I wasn’t about to ruin the great atmospherics in the cabin of the Land Rover due to anything to do with her. Unfortunately I had to ruin things a little because of other circumstances. My perception of the immediate scene ahead was that this was the end of the line. Our run of good luck was about to be brought to a complete stop. Or maybe it had never exactly been a run of good luck in the first place. It was probably more like a case of refusing to submission. Yeah, that’s what it was. I was a part of it somewhere, we both were.
Troy didn’t see what I was pointing at. The direction I had my hand pointing in was a bit vague so it was a bit much to expect her to understand why I was all of a sudden suffering something of a personality change. Oh well, never having driven a car before I could hardly expect her to notice things the same way.
“Look ahead”, I said. “See those cars up there, way ahead on the hill”. I hadn’t over dramatized the complications envisaged by myself. I could see the roofs of cars here and there in-between gaps in the hedgerow, up there alongside the road on the uphill stretch.
“No, I can’t see them. Where? Where are they? What’s the problem anyway, cars on the road’s alright isn’t it? We’ve come this far and everything has been good so far”.
“Heh, there’s cars up there, take my word for it. I’ve got to slow down now because I’ve got to come up with another plan. I need to think”. I slowed down. Bollocks to those behind me, they’ll just have to slow down too, or overtake if they can. Either way it made little difference to the situation I would be in in a minute. In fact, I slowed down even more as I thought about it because these passers-by were going to be no better off than me before they knew it. I slowed so much that they all must have thought I was letting them by; which I was. Wasn’t I being kind. Wasn’t that just the most selfless and thoughtful thing I could do right now?

Troy knows better than to question further. This joy ride so far had been a well-executed and purposefully thought out idea.
We get closer to the – what was now the choke point. This was not supposed to be there. It was the unexpected late afternoon tourist rush back to whatever fucking place they came from that happened to be nowhere near this place. And here is where they jam up because some disrespectful person is driving at a premeditated 35 mph to save fuel, or something just as daft.
It all makes sense now as we close up to the problem. Troy sees the issue. Up ahead was a stationary line of traffic queuing up the hill in the same direction as we were headed. To make matters worse the road is a two lane thoroughfare and there’s plenty coming the other way. There’s no overtaking because the hill stretches away behind multiple bends like a zig zag of poor design. It was so bad that double white lines were painted all the way as far as one could see; which sadly was only the next bend. Who knows what lay up ahead.
I’d slowed enough to allow the impression I was being gracious. I needed all that extra time to work out the next move. The passers-by went barrelling on past only to end up forming the back end of the queue that we were approaching.
Thankfully the road stretched a ways ahead uphill. For me that was going to be about as perfect a choke point as I could hope for – under the circumstances. My preference would have been for this traffic not to be there. Still, given that there is a queue up ahead and it’s not moving then the best situation for me is that I have to stop on an uphill gradient.
However you looked at it I had to stop, no question about that. The uphill would aid the fact that I didn’t have a clutch to slow down with. It was still going to be a bumpy ride.
Troy was getting jittery. She started raising her voice to be heard, propping up her anxiety. It might have made her feel better, it wasn’t making me feel better. I had asked that she didn’t start shouting in my ear.
As the cars up ahead inevitably got closer I backed off the revs as much as I dare and went to pull the gear lever down into second gear. On the plus side the engine braking was brilliant. The uphill gradient ensured that as I was only in low revs in a low gear anyway, the internal windings from any shafts of which were then minimised somewhat.
I pulled the lever; which felt about as right as shoving a stick through a spoked wheel on the move, and joggled it around as it jumped around in my hand. I could feel all the gears and the teeth and the crunching through the lever. The application of slotting one gear on one shaft to another gear on a different shaft whilst both shafts were being driven at speed instilled a nasty imagination of mechanical destruction at the other end of the gear lever. I wiggled the lever firmly whilst trying to interpret the exact right time to give it that extra firm shove. Eventually the gears combined after a tortuous sound and we were down to second gear. I felt a bit happier and could relax to the tune of at least a couple of seconds; enough time to calculate the next move.
There was no way that I was going to be able to go from second gear back to first without the clutch so my mind was made up to just coast to a spluttering stop. I wouldn’t even need to use the foot brake if I judged it right, the hill would negate the momentum.
Troy was following all the action, wondering what and why.
As we approached to the distance I wanted to stop at I did apply a little pressure to the foot brake as it became clear that this vehicle would keep on and going forward no matter what – almost. The whole shemozzle came to an agitated, jerky and cranky stop.
Troy was getting panicky and uttering louder and louder sounds in-between some mutterings that I didn’t want to hear and didn’t want to interpret either.

Conveniently, “Fuck” seemed a most appropriate word to use right now; which I did – again.
We were stopped on the hill behind a queue of traffic that at this moment in time wasn’t moving at all.
I looked around me and for some strange reason the fact that there were two white lines painted down the middle of the road was almost the single most outstanding thing.
We were the road block. We couldn’t indicate to those behind us of our intentions; which was to go nowhere. ‘How’s this for a Sunday afternoon traffic hold up?’
I switched the hazard winkers to on. Troy noticed and interpreted this to mean I was going nowhere – I suppose. We were stationary and no one could navigate around us for the fact that immediately ahead was a blind bend. No one in their right mind would attempt that. Ordinarily I would switch the hazards on when actually driving if I noticed something ahead which would cause me to alter my pace significantly and which was obvious by its very self that I would probably have to stop. Now though there was a sense of finality about the action of switching the hazards to on. And that wasn’t lost on Troy herself. It was a ………………..well, to be honest it was a calculated risk. Before I attempted any of this – back in the lay-by, I had consciously run through a list of risks that may occur and this had been one of them, or though not necessarily in this exact same place. All in all, I wasn’t sure that what we had attempted was the right thing to do now. I’d always considered myself to be quite a considerate road user. I wasn’t sure that anyone behind me would be thinking the same thing.
Let’s face it, those behind me were stuck. They couldn’t get past me. They couldn’t reverse, they couldn’t even try anything, forwards or backwards. The best hope they had was a U-turn and with all the passing traffic coming down the hill – huh, good luck on that one!
I couldn’t see a way out of this ludicrous situation we found ourselves in. Everything had been going so well.
Troy started raising her voice to be heard. “What are we going to do, what are we going to do”.
A good question indeed.
“How are we going to move, what are we going to do”. Troy’s raised voice was interrupting what I would have liked as a quiet period of thinking time. I made reply “I don’t know. Let me think. Just quiet down a bit so I can think”. I rested my head into my hands.
The cars ahead eventually started to move after an elongated stop for what I put down to no reason – as is mostly always the case. Whatever situation ahead of them was causing this holdup was looking to be out of the way – and I could guess what it was, always the fucking same, get a busy period on the road and there’s always some stupid unawares idiot in the way driving too slow.
Troy was agitated. It wasn’t her problem to be fair to her, it was mine. I’d gotten her into this. I threw my head back against the head rest and for all the world looked like I didn’t have the foggiest idea. Trying to think of a way out of this and make reply in a calm manner was the hardest of things to do. “Fuck knows” I said. “I’m not sure how to get out of this. All those behind me don’t realise the problem we have here. I know, I could just go and tell them I’m broken down. Simple”. I put my head into my hands again.
I upped the thinking to the point where I felt like I was getting a headache. ‘Come on, come on’, I said to myself. Think harder, you can’t just stay here. You can’t call a breakdown service to pick you up here. How would they get here?
There had to be a way of getting out of this. The enormity of finding a solution by thinking power was similar in some ways to the gears trying to engage when they weren’t supposed to in that recent given scenario just moments ago. In other words the gear thing wasn’t designed to work that way. There was two similar entities there. I’d made it work because I knew it would. So in as much as those gears did engage it kind of struck me in a sub-conscious way that a way forward had been found. Could there then be a remote possibility that I could find a way forward here? The two were even also aligned in a mechanical way.
It wasn’t as if I was stuck on a hill in an ordinary car was it? I mean, here we are, stationary on a hill with a queue of traffic behind us that can’t get past. I don’t want to come clean and admit to them that I don’t have a clutch, not that that was any of their business. I also have a caravan on the back so they might expect the absurd type of behaviour they were witnessing anyway. Also, how did they know that the cars ahead of me were disappearing up the hill out of sight and leaving a clear road ahead of us. The more you think about it the worse it gets. In my favour I could see a clear road ahead now and they couldn’t. A small plus side for me sure to not last long. Hang on though just a minute! This was a big lump of machinery the Land Rover. Built to get the job done. If I could only just extract whatever it was that was better ….and let’s face it, that had to be pretty much everything – in terms of overbuild at any rate. One thing was for sure, if I did nothing then nothing would happen. So if I turn the starter motor therefore, something will happen. The key here is how to make something happen that will move this road block. I wasn’t prepared to sling the thing in gear again from stop, the same as we had done back there in the lay-by.
That’s when the penny dropped with an almighty inaudible thump.

I raised my head out of my hands and turned to Troy. “I’ve got a plan” I said. Troy took on the mood swing.
“What? What’s the plan?” She was wide eyed, almost tearful.
I smiled to give her some hope that my plan wasn’t just some few words of idle nonsense. “It’s called plan Save Ass”.
Troy got angry quick. “Is that all you can do right now, make jokes?”
Me not being a natural joker type of person, she might have guessed this to have some depth to it if she’d been in a position to be thinking rationally. I think she had guessed we were so out of options that her natural ability to compensate someone’s personality to a situation was all used up at this point. I never said anything else as I slotted the gear lever into first gear and grabbed hold of the parking brake. Troy watched everything.
Mentally the sums span around in my head. These weren’t actual mathematical sums, these were the sums of triumph versus failure. I initiated a conscious countdown in my mind and on the countdown from three to one I turned the starter ignition switch to on.
At the very same time as the starter motor engaged with the flywheel I released the parking brake.
I hoped that the Land Rover factory had been thinking outside the box when they designed this car. I knew a car could be pulled along by the starter motor; just try starting a car in gear anywhere.
My problem right now was a caravan on the back that was now were a deadweight on the tow hitch.
It was a straight duel between unfair expectation versus Land Rover.
Which would triumph over the other?
There wasn’t a choice now, it was Land Rover do or die. In theory the starter motor would pull the engine, under normal flat ground vehicle on its own circumstances. In practice, here on a hill, there was a lot of baggage for it to cope with. I could see in my mind’s eye the starter motor overheat and self-destruct against a flywheel that refused to move because it was tied to a hill assent at the same time as being overloaded with a weight disadvantage.

Troy looked on expectantly once again. She couldn’t work out what was going to happen; the mechanics was all a bit too confusing for her.
As soon as the starter motor Bendix hit that flywheel I released the hand parking brake. With the gears already selected into first gear the Land Rover pulled itself away using only the splined shaft of the starter motor engaging on the teeth of the flywheel. From its parked slot in the road our whole vehicle and caravan combination whined, without the use of any fuel, up the hill. We hadn’t moved but a few meters up the hill when the engine sprang into life. In complete contrast to sitting in silence the diesel smoothly and fantastically noisily pulled us up the hill without so much as a faltering glitch anywhere.
It was the most unexpected and incredible experience to behold let alone be the instigator of.
I punched the air and I punched it again and I punched it again.
“Yeah”, I shouted, “that’s what I’m talking about, fucking yes, I love you Land Rover”.
Troy was beside herself with joy. She was bloody delirious to be honest. An incredible atmosphere of wonder filled the cabin of the Land Rover. Troy was staring at me as though I was a genius. The unbelieving actuality of what had just happened whilst she was sitting right in the middle of it seemed incomprehensible in any way, shape or form.
Troy had tears in her eyes and she started me off too. I had to concentrate on the road ahead but I am not sure I had ever known joy quite like it before.
Once I reached the top of the hill a pub car park came into view. Troy gave me a sideways glance and I could have interpreted it in all sorts of ways. I didn’t though.
My mind was made up.
I headed off the main road and into the pub car park. Once stopped I turned the engine off. Troy was confused now. “I don’t get it”, she said.
“I know, you were great, but right now I need to just relax right out of this. I know for a fact that when we get to Dorchester we’re going to be in the same position all over again. It won’t be like that queue up near Spaghetti junction that time, crawling along at a snail’s pace. It’ll be stop start and stop start. I can’t keep doing this with the starter motor. The poor old truck needs a rest, just like I do. We’re not going to make it home as we are. But I’ll tell you what, that was the most unimaginably brilliant joint effort. Thank you to you Troy, you deserve it. I’m sorry I put you into such an awkward position. I don’t want to do that again”.
“No, you’re right”, she said. “Shall I get that card out of your wallet?”
She did and I rang the recovery firm up.
The recovery firm themselves; contracting out their services to a main stream provider, were in the same village – Morecombelake. They took only a few minutes to find us.
Of course they didn’t remember me. They weren’t the same firm as years before when I crashed my Maestro van, they were just a contractor.

Euclid – For me, with a love of Greece, it seems appropriate that all these years later I discover the name Euclid (all be it with an ‘i’ as opposed to a ‘y’) was the name of a Greek mathematician whose scientific discoveries and therefore his specialties were what’s now known as Euclidian geometry.
In simple terms: we don’t live in a universe with Euclidian space. The fabric of space is ever so slightly hyperbolic. Euclid worked out all his theories on planar geometry – straights and angles.
If you did a tag count, the words Safe and Euclid are about tied. As much as to say: Euclidian geometry is simple and safe, elliptical geometry is more complex.
Euclid may have been proud that his name was applied to a vehicle whose geometry was definitely planar as far as I was concerned.

Mad Dog yellow – Was a blue VW car. It wasn’t yellow.