Pay attention to professionals, take notes, save money.
Your first car is always a blessing, even during those moments when it feels like a curse. Mine was a ‘one careful owner’ Mk1 VW Golf. The freedom of personal mobility it offered was a constant source of joy … until it caught fire.
This happened at the wedding reception of a friend and was doused by a combination of champagne and sand. Despite costly repairs, it was never the same. Often it refused to start and sometimes it would splutter to an embarrassing halt on the freeway. The upside to this curse: I learned a few tricks along the way.
Always park a temperamental starter downhill. Temporarily swapping the middle two spark plug leads in order to clean dirty carburettor jets is not recommended but it worked more than once when my friends thought we had run out of fuel instead. [Insert smiley face emoji here J.]
My earliest motoring memory is of me, hollow plastic toy spanner in hand, trying to loosen nuts in the engine bay of an MG. My father said it was the first time he had heard me say “dammit”. Despite this early fascination, I am no mechanic.
My standard response when someone’s car would not start: “Is it plugged in?” followed immediately by the surprisingly provocative, “Is there any petrol in it?” I will do a basic visual diagnostic but beyond that it is definitely time to call a professional.
Disconcertingly, I am old enough to remember when professionals generally were not required. You simply serviced your car at home. Handier folk were both mentally and mechanically equipped to completely overhaul an engine block. A weekend neighbourhood stroll involved passing several open garages with people tinkering around beneath the bonnets of their Pulsars, Cortinas, Rekords, etc.
Things have changed. Now we have outrageously complex cars with service plans. But that does not mean you need to book your car in at the dealer to change a split wiper blade or a failed headlamp bulb. Why pay ridiculous labour rates for tasks that should be child’s play? With this in mind, I set about replacing a blown low beam headlamp bulb on our Renault Scenic 3.
As you do, I began with Google. Several forum threads later I had read loads of horror stories ranging from lacerated knuckles to full bumper removals but still had no definitive guide to the process. Even YouTube was stumped. Better just get to it then.
It turns out you need pygmy marmoset hands and a gastrointestinal endoscope – there is simply no space for both eyeball **and** fingers. Some 45 minutes later I called it quits, slamming the bonnet with ferocious French flair.
I had resigned myself to paying the ransom of the dealer when I came across an automotive accessories and spares franchise close to home that offered cheap, fast fitment of roof racks, wiper blades, and light bulbs.
Within two minutes the job was done; no blood, no swear words, no loose bumper, and no extortion; just the deft, experienced hands of a closely observed professional. You only have to show me once.
– Wayne Batty
