.... still on the road. I'm so nervous of even speaking about it in case we open another series of christine-like events, but I have to say the sportwagon is still running absolutely fine! Its getting perilously close to the stage when I start a) personalising her and b) thinking of a name.
Names have been put forward -
Roxy (too racy)
Vera (dearie me)
Stephanie (nope - thats taken)
Pauline (again - dear me)
I will mull it over. I did pass Andy the local breakdown guy on the road today and detected something of a weariness in his wave to me...... he should by rights be booking his next foreign trip on the back of my business. Seeing me in another Alfa should have him salivating with greed.
Sunday 13 April 2008
Sunday 6 April 2008
Trying to remain stoical
.... is really tricky when reading the posts on the AlfaOwner site. Mostly these relate to crises folk are having with their electrics, steering, gearbox etc etc... all familiar territory. I think that unless one is prepared to learn as much about engines as one can, get frequently greasy and cold, and lavish heaps of attention on maintaining them, one might not view Alfa ownership in the rosy manner one has previously...........
Thursday 3 April 2008
the drain explained and the End
I collect Christine on Friday morning, and am half delighted, half furious to discover that the battery drain was down to (drum roll....)
THE WINDOW MECHANISM
(see post 1)
I am so cross but decide to be stoical and just be pleased I have a conclusion to the issue, a car that runs, a fixed belt and sleek dent free panels. My sister and I cruise home and have a fun night out together. The next day I continue my journey to London to visit my daughter and the car is running fine..... apart from a sudden thirst for oil.
Now this is not unusual, I am accustomed to regularly checking the oil level as is the way with Alfas. However, this was sort of extreme. Things came to a head when the high pitched wailing of an error message punctuated a slow crawl to Whitechapel along the A13. Oil Pressure Warning. Oh dear. I had never had this one before..........
It took a while but I managed to find a parking spot and topped up the very empty oil. I phoned my Alfa guy and told him to expect me later on, delivered my daughter to her destination and set off up the M11 northwards. I had 36 hours before I was due back at my desk and things were not looking good.
Birchanger services M11 where I needed a loo stop: returned to the car to find she was refusing to start. There was power, but no fuel seemed to be getting in. I called Alfa Genius and we tried the fuel cut off possibility - no avail. I called the RAC, who helpfully informed me this was my final free call out of the year..........
RAC guy came. He pondered. He turned the ignition. The BITCH STARTED!!!!
We drove to the nearest dealer where he did the diagnostics and located a sensor failure. It was rectified and I drove north again to get my Genius to fix it (starting to trust few other people....)
By the time I reached the East Midlands smoke was issuing forth from the oil burn and I was frankly in a state of extreme distress. It was time to call it a day.
Christine and I parted company in not very sad terms. I needed to get home- I knew she couldn't take me. The belt breaking had clearly damaged much more than we had first thought and she was in need of a new engine.
I have another Alfa courtesy of my Genius. Will I never learn?????
Watch this space!
THE WINDOW MECHANISM
(see post 1)
I am so cross but decide to be stoical and just be pleased I have a conclusion to the issue, a car that runs, a fixed belt and sleek dent free panels. My sister and I cruise home and have a fun night out together. The next day I continue my journey to London to visit my daughter and the car is running fine..... apart from a sudden thirst for oil.
Now this is not unusual, I am accustomed to regularly checking the oil level as is the way with Alfas. However, this was sort of extreme. Things came to a head when the high pitched wailing of an error message punctuated a slow crawl to Whitechapel along the A13. Oil Pressure Warning. Oh dear. I had never had this one before..........
It took a while but I managed to find a parking spot and topped up the very empty oil. I phoned my Alfa guy and told him to expect me later on, delivered my daughter to her destination and set off up the M11 northwards. I had 36 hours before I was due back at my desk and things were not looking good.
Birchanger services M11 where I needed a loo stop: returned to the car to find she was refusing to start. There was power, but no fuel seemed to be getting in. I called Alfa Genius and we tried the fuel cut off possibility - no avail. I called the RAC, who helpfully informed me this was my final free call out of the year..........
RAC guy came. He pondered. He turned the ignition. The BITCH STARTED!!!!
We drove to the nearest dealer where he did the diagnostics and located a sensor failure. It was rectified and I drove north again to get my Genius to fix it (starting to trust few other people....)
By the time I reached the East Midlands smoke was issuing forth from the oil burn and I was frankly in a state of extreme distress. It was time to call it a day.
Christine and I parted company in not very sad terms. I needed to get home- I knew she couldn't take me. The belt breaking had clearly damaged much more than we had first thought and she was in need of a new engine.
I have another Alfa courtesy of my Genius. Will I never learn?????
Watch this space!
Ok that was (relatively) painless....
I collect the vehicle from the dealer having flown in to Inverness and am amazed to have to part with less that £200 (believe me that is good for this car) The belt has been replaced. The parts were under warranty so no charge for those although I am still smarting about having to pay for labour for work that was only done 6 months before.
I set out for Edinburgh light of heart. I attend my meetings. I collect my Other Half from Edinburgh airport for our planned easter weekend in the capital and Christine is going OK. We park at the posh hotel and proceed to the jollity.
Edinburgh is a walking city and we do not use the car at all all weekend, so when we come to check out on Monday morning and put our bags in the car, she fails to start. Luckily I am driving around with a charged spare battery and jump leads (no luck involved actually - I learned!) so we jump her, run her and deliver him back to the airport so that I can proceed south to the Genius Alfa Guy.
I drive south in a state of fear and trepidation, and to cut a way-too-long story short I make it. I book her in with him. I have a few days with my sister.
I set out for Edinburgh light of heart. I attend my meetings. I collect my Other Half from Edinburgh airport for our planned easter weekend in the capital and Christine is going OK. We park at the posh hotel and proceed to the jollity.
Edinburgh is a walking city and we do not use the car at all all weekend, so when we come to check out on Monday morning and put our bags in the car, she fails to start. Luckily I am driving around with a charged spare battery and jump leads (no luck involved actually - I learned!) so we jump her, run her and deliver him back to the airport so that I can proceed south to the Genius Alfa Guy.
I drive south in a state of fear and trepidation, and to cut a way-too-long story short I make it. I book her in with him. I have a few days with my sister.
The final straw?
You would think that by now I would be pretty bombproof as far as this car was concerned but no.......
7.30am....another jump start, another frosty morning.... I whizz her to the bottom end of the island to charge the battery before picking up my son and going to work.... on my return I take the curve at my customary 60mph and the steering fails. I slide scarily near the edge of the cliff and manage to right myself in the nick of time. I am VERY shaken but have to get back to some sort of civilisation to be safe. As I crawl along, one by one the system is shutting down.... ABS, lights, steering, selespeed.... we grind to a halt at the roadside. I open the bonnet and the belt is in tatters. The belt replaced by the Birmingham dealer. Oil is seeping out from underneath. I am near to tears and late for work not to mention in shock after nearly losing her over the edge.
RAC
Local guy
Inverness
I agree to fly to Inverness for the start of my trip south and hopefully pick her up once the belt is repaired..... maybe, just MAYBE the belt -battery-power issues are all connected.....?
7.30am....another jump start, another frosty morning.... I whizz her to the bottom end of the island to charge the battery before picking up my son and going to work.... on my return I take the curve at my customary 60mph and the steering fails. I slide scarily near the edge of the cliff and manage to right myself in the nick of time. I am VERY shaken but have to get back to some sort of civilisation to be safe. As I crawl along, one by one the system is shutting down.... ABS, lights, steering, selespeed.... we grind to a halt at the roadside. I open the bonnet and the belt is in tatters. The belt replaced by the Birmingham dealer. Oil is seeping out from underneath. I am near to tears and late for work not to mention in shock after nearly losing her over the edge.
RAC
Local guy
Inverness
I agree to fly to Inverness for the start of my trip south and hopefully pick her up once the belt is repaired..... maybe, just MAYBE the belt -battery-power issues are all connected.....?
Things crank up a notch.....
Time passes and I drive her every day, so the battery does not have the chance to give out. I pretend that this demonstrates that she is well, but in my heart I am not so sure.
The body shop calls and say the parts have arrived and can I bring her to be repaired and resprayed. I say yes, when? They mumble that they will phone me.
A week passes. I call again. Not yet.
Another week passes and I call again. Nope, not yet.
I am nearing my next trip south and I want to take her to my trusted Alfa guy for a look over, so I am keen to get this work done. I call the body shop and this time I am stroppy. They agree to take her and I am given the bosses truck to use meantime.
A week in the truck and I cannot wait to get my baby back..... even with her problems she does not use a weeks wages in petrol to do 10 miles.
The call comes and I go to retrieve her.... and she looks BEAUTIFUL. Shiny.... gleaming, sexy, perfect..... Except he tells me that during her stay, the battery went flat and they had to remove it to re-charge it. Ah. Now I know the computer will be all shot and full of errors, but I console myself that in a little under a week I will be taking her south to be looked at by an expert.
I drive her away and as predicted a few weirdnesses occur, mostly low level light warnings that prove to be nothing. And a strange graunching noise from the belt region (again, hers not mine) I was perturbed at this but kept reminding myself a trip to a genius was imminent so all would be well. Funny how deluded you can be..............
The body shop calls and say the parts have arrived and can I bring her to be repaired and resprayed. I say yes, when? They mumble that they will phone me.
A week passes. I call again. Not yet.
Another week passes and I call again. Nope, not yet.
I am nearing my next trip south and I want to take her to my trusted Alfa guy for a look over, so I am keen to get this work done. I call the body shop and this time I am stroppy. They agree to take her and I am given the bosses truck to use meantime.
A week in the truck and I cannot wait to get my baby back..... even with her problems she does not use a weeks wages in petrol to do 10 miles.
The call comes and I go to retrieve her.... and she looks BEAUTIFUL. Shiny.... gleaming, sexy, perfect..... Except he tells me that during her stay, the battery went flat and they had to remove it to re-charge it. Ah. Now I know the computer will be all shot and full of errors, but I console myself that in a little under a week I will be taking her south to be looked at by an expert.
I drive her away and as predicted a few weirdnesses occur, mostly low level light warnings that prove to be nothing. And a strange graunching noise from the belt region (again, hers not mine) I was perturbed at this but kept reminding myself a trip to a genius was imminent so all would be well. Funny how deluded you can be..............
and more........
I decide to go into the office at the weekend to catch up on work overdue..... and while I am there, Christine goes flat again. I contact the RAC. They once more contact Local Guy. He takes her to the ferry, she goes to Inverness. With a note that its probably not the damn battery that was faulty.
I retreat to my hole and have yet another hire car, kerching!
I advise the body shop (remember we are STILL waiting for the wing to arrive from Milan or wherever....) that a second ding has occurred but the car is not available to be fixed yet.
I wait. I harrass the dealer. Eventually they decide its the radio thats faulty and pulling the power. They will remove it, send it away for repairs, and then I can come get her and have the whole thing all working and spanky new. Fantastic.
I wait some more.
I am called to come get her - the radio is not back yet, but I have a replacement radio to use till it is back from the repairers. I can come past on my way back from Edinburgh and collect the radio. Perfect. I go get her.
The replacement radio could be better..... every 20 minutes it turns itself off which is something of a nuisance, but hey ho its all temporary because soon I will have my own radio back and it will be fixed and will not drain the battery and cause neighbourhood misery and shattered nerves..............
I do my business in Edinburgh and call the dealer to enquire as to the readiness of my radio. Ah. The radio it seems cannot be repaired. It will have to be replaced. And that will cost £250 plus vat. I cringe. I decide to put up with the 20 minutes of music bursts and save the cash for now, but console myself that at least the cause of the drain has been identified and now we can sleep at nights.
I collect Christine from Inverness.
oh and the boot button on the key has ceased to open the boot.
I retreat to my hole and have yet another hire car, kerching!
I advise the body shop (remember we are STILL waiting for the wing to arrive from Milan or wherever....) that a second ding has occurred but the car is not available to be fixed yet.
I wait. I harrass the dealer. Eventually they decide its the radio thats faulty and pulling the power. They will remove it, send it away for repairs, and then I can come get her and have the whole thing all working and spanky new. Fantastic.
I wait some more.
I am called to come get her - the radio is not back yet, but I have a replacement radio to use till it is back from the repairers. I can come past on my way back from Edinburgh and collect the radio. Perfect. I go get her.
The replacement radio could be better..... every 20 minutes it turns itself off which is something of a nuisance, but hey ho its all temporary because soon I will have my own radio back and it will be fixed and will not drain the battery and cause neighbourhood misery and shattered nerves..............
I do my business in Edinburgh and call the dealer to enquire as to the readiness of my radio. Ah. The radio it seems cannot be repaired. It will have to be replaced. And that will cost £250 plus vat. I cringe. I decide to put up with the 20 minutes of music bursts and save the cash for now, but console myself that at least the cause of the drain has been identified and now we can sleep at nights.
I collect Christine from Inverness.
oh and the boot button on the key has ceased to open the boot.
Ding Dong again
I have to go into hospital for a minor operation of an embarrassing nature and because I am clueless about my own ability to undergo general anaesthetic without a life threatening crisis, I drive myself there. I park in the hospital car park.
I undergo general anaesthetic with the usual life threatening crisis and my Other Half has to bring me home in his car.
After a couple of days recovering at home (OK a week) I go back to retrieve Christine, armed with the jump leads as I know she will be flat. She is, predictably. Less predictable (although maybe I should have been less surprised given the history) was the appearance of a brand new ding. On the opposing flank. And a damp note stuck to the windscreen claiming responsibility.
We return home and I lick my wounds. I am now at the point where I find it difficult to even look at the car, let alone get into it. And I cannot talk about it.
I undergo general anaesthetic with the usual life threatening crisis and my Other Half has to bring me home in his car.
After a couple of days recovering at home (OK a week) I go back to retrieve Christine, armed with the jump leads as I know she will be flat. She is, predictably. Less predictable (although maybe I should have been less surprised given the history) was the appearance of a brand new ding. On the opposing flank. And a damp note stuck to the windscreen claiming responsibility.
We return home and I lick my wounds. I am now at the point where I find it difficult to even look at the car, let alone get into it. And I cannot talk about it.
By Hire Car to Edinburgh
I have the hired Golf for 10 days while Christine is in Inverness being tinkered with. I make regular calls to the dealer but they seem to be mimicking the head scratching Eric has perfected.
I do my trip south in the hire car and come back - the dealer calls and advises me that she is ready to pick up. They have deduced that the fault was the battery, which must have been faulty. I remind them that it is in fact a new battery, but they are unmoved.
I fly to Inverness and bring her back.
I do my trip south in the hire car and come back - the dealer calls and advises me that she is ready to pick up. They have deduced that the fault was the battery, which must have been faulty. I remind them that it is in fact a new battery, but they are unmoved.
I fly to Inverness and bring her back.
tunes but no motion
So I drive away from the garage tunes a-blazing and return to work where we are packing for an office move. It quickly transpires that we need way more bin bags than we have been allocated so I volunteer to go to get some. I leap into the Alfa and zoom down the road to the roundabout.....when.........clunk. Car leaps into neutral and will not change back. No selespeed. No gears. No motion.
I summon help and we push her to the local petrol station forecourt where a crowd gathers as I undertake the selespeed failure manoeuvre.... lean into engine with tyre iron and bash selespeed pump madly till it restarts (honest - ask anyone)
It fails resolutely to restart. Many men appear and offer up mostly useless suggestions which I graciously deal with. Many error messages appear.
I summon the local breakdown chap who is very very good and he takes her back to Eric who is barely over scratching his head from last time. We conclude that the way forward is to get the RAC out and take it to Inverness. We do this (not as easy as it sounds -local breakdown guy is actually on the scene but we still have to go through the rigmarole of phoning the call centre and getting them to call him and tell him exactly what he can hear me telling them.....ah well.)
Christine goes to Inverness. I get a hire car. We all go home. Some of us are happier than others.
I summon help and we push her to the local petrol station forecourt where a crowd gathers as I undertake the selespeed failure manoeuvre.... lean into engine with tyre iron and bash selespeed pump madly till it restarts (honest - ask anyone)
It fails resolutely to restart. Many men appear and offer up mostly useless suggestions which I graciously deal with. Many error messages appear.
I summon the local breakdown chap who is very very good and he takes her back to Eric who is barely over scratching his head from last time. We conclude that the way forward is to get the RAC out and take it to Inverness. We do this (not as easy as it sounds -local breakdown guy is actually on the scene but we still have to go through the rigmarole of phoning the call centre and getting them to call him and tell him exactly what he can hear me telling them.....ah well.)
Christine goes to Inverness. I get a hire car. We all go home. Some of us are happier than others.
Ding Dong the saga continues
I drive Sofia everywhere and everyday, so it appears that Eric was correct and a new battery was all that was needed. I drive around smiling and feeling happy that all seems to be right with the world.
I drive her to the local supermarket after the gym one Sunday. As I often do. I am sitting gathering my wits and my belongings before exiting the vehicle when I feel a tremendous clunk and scrape. I realise the guy in the car beside me has reversed out of his parking space without realising that I was there, thus dragging his car along the entirity of Sofia's wing and hooking his bumper under the rear wheel arch.
I am incredulous!! I mouth "what are you DOING?!!" to the man, who then decides the wise thing to do is to put his car back where it was, thus repeating the prang in reverse. I leap out of the car intending to open up the can of whup-ass he so richly deserves, when I realise the guy is in no state to stand up to that. In fact he is in shock, to the extent I am concerned about his immediate health.
I snap into Nurse mode quick as a flash and start making the kind of soothing noises not expected from a recent prang-ee towards the prang-er. He is clearly very shaken and sorry. We exchange addresses and I advise his wife to drive him home. I am gutted. Sofia is dented badly all along her flank.
I felt lower than low as I took her home and was consoled by friends and family, and I guess it was about then when the whispering started and the transition from Sofia to Christine slowly developed. I arranged the local body shop to evaluate the damage and they came and made sucking noises in the way that workmen do which usually preceded statements like "its a big job" In fact it was a big job, which required ordering a whole new wing. This could take months. Probably would.
Then........................
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Here we go again with the wake up call at 4am. Flat.
So back we go to Eric, more headscratching and peering ( I have to be fair to Eric and the local guys, they are fantastic and helpful and lovely but admit they are NOT Alfa experts) After a time he offers up that the radio seems to be pulling rather more power than it ought. He disconnects it. I drive away.
All remains well and I anticipate another trip south in which I decide to take Sofia to the Alfa guys south and get the radio sorted out. In advance of the trip, I ask Eric to please just reconnect the radio for the duration of the journey from island to Inverness. Its a long lonely drive and one I don't relish without tunes. I figure as I will be running the car the whole time, the battery will not have the time to go flat.
Eric cheerfully concurs and reconnects the radio.
I drive her to the local supermarket after the gym one Sunday. As I often do. I am sitting gathering my wits and my belongings before exiting the vehicle when I feel a tremendous clunk and scrape. I realise the guy in the car beside me has reversed out of his parking space without realising that I was there, thus dragging his car along the entirity of Sofia's wing and hooking his bumper under the rear wheel arch.
I am incredulous!! I mouth "what are you DOING?!!" to the man, who then decides the wise thing to do is to put his car back where it was, thus repeating the prang in reverse. I leap out of the car intending to open up the can of whup-ass he so richly deserves, when I realise the guy is in no state to stand up to that. In fact he is in shock, to the extent I am concerned about his immediate health.
I snap into Nurse mode quick as a flash and start making the kind of soothing noises not expected from a recent prang-ee towards the prang-er. He is clearly very shaken and sorry. We exchange addresses and I advise his wife to drive him home. I am gutted. Sofia is dented badly all along her flank.
I felt lower than low as I took her home and was consoled by friends and family, and I guess it was about then when the whispering started and the transition from Sofia to Christine slowly developed. I arranged the local body shop to evaluate the damage and they came and made sucking noises in the way that workmen do which usually preceded statements like "its a big job" In fact it was a big job, which required ordering a whole new wing. This could take months. Probably would.
Then........................
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Here we go again with the wake up call at 4am. Flat.
So back we go to Eric, more headscratching and peering ( I have to be fair to Eric and the local guys, they are fantastic and helpful and lovely but admit they are NOT Alfa experts) After a time he offers up that the radio seems to be pulling rather more power than it ought. He disconnects it. I drive away.
All remains well and I anticipate another trip south in which I decide to take Sofia to the Alfa guys south and get the radio sorted out. In advance of the trip, I ask Eric to please just reconnect the radio for the duration of the journey from island to Inverness. Its a long lonely drive and one I don't relish without tunes. I figure as I will be running the car the whole time, the battery will not have the time to go flat.
Eric cheerfully concurs and reconnects the radio.
Draining power commences
October. Return from the trip south and discover Sofia (note how I am still calling her that) seems to have developed an electrical fault. If left for any length of time, her battery is draining flat. This means that in the early hours of the morning, her piercing alarm wakes the entire neighbourhood to advise us that we will not only be able to start her engine, but neither will we be able to stop the screeching without a mallet and a tantrum. Flat. As the proverbial pancake.
Due to the fact that I have a full time job (apart from maintaining this car) I opt to take her to a local garage so that he might have a look at what might be draining the battery. I also join the rather helpful AlfaOwner website which offers many suggestions as to possible causes of this drain.
Armed with a recently acquired expertise on potential faults I get her to the local garage where they investigate her with the laptop and several hours of Eric the mechanic's head scratching later we still cannot pin down the drain. I offer up the possibility of the window mechanism (see post 1 - this is a theme) but this is not felt to be the problem. My reason for this suggestion is simple - it was the only electrical thing that the Birmingham dealer did, was not required, and was possibly not done very well. Using some of my nursing acumen, I revisit the most recent health issues in an attempt to isolate and disregard them when carrying out a diagnosis. Hmm.
Eventually after a couple of days and the loan of a very embarrassing BMW pimpmobile, Eric decides that the elderly battery was the culprit and fits a spanky new one. I pay. I leave. She goes.
Due to the fact that I have a full time job (apart from maintaining this car) I opt to take her to a local garage so that he might have a look at what might be draining the battery. I also join the rather helpful AlfaOwner website which offers many suggestions as to possible causes of this drain.
Armed with a recently acquired expertise on potential faults I get her to the local garage where they investigate her with the laptop and several hours of Eric the mechanic's head scratching later we still cannot pin down the drain. I offer up the possibility of the window mechanism (see post 1 - this is a theme) but this is not felt to be the problem. My reason for this suggestion is simple - it was the only electrical thing that the Birmingham dealer did, was not required, and was possibly not done very well. Using some of my nursing acumen, I revisit the most recent health issues in an attempt to isolate and disregard them when carrying out a diagnosis. Hmm.
Eventually after a couple of days and the loan of a very embarrassing BMW pimpmobile, Eric decides that the elderly battery was the culprit and fits a spanky new one. I pay. I leave. She goes.
Bizarre public holidays and a wasted journey....
So we continue north on our journey, the plan being for me to drop Other Half at Edinburgh Airport so that I can get Sofia to a dealer for the sensor to be sorted out. I arrive at Perth and discover a dealer there, but its too late to get them so I decide to continue north to Inverness where there is another dealer.
I book into a travel inn and grumble at the price, but plan to be up early to the dealer in the morning and do a recce of the area to ensure I can get there promptly.
Bright and early on the Monday morning I arrive at the dealer which is ominously quiet. I lurk for a bit. I wander round a bit. The tumbleweed blows across the carpark. A rusting sign creaks in the wind. (sorry - artistic license!!)
Eventually a smartly dressed cove appears who I deduce from the lack of oil is not a mechanic. He asks if he can help me, and I reply that I hope so, that I need a sensor and a man to fit it.
Ah. He is vaguely embarrassed. It is apparently a local public holiday and no mechanics are in. Local public holidays seem to be a peculiarly Scottish phenomenon, called for no apparent reason unless you count random agricultural shows or saints days. BAH.
He looks with rather exaggerated confidence under the bonnet and declares she is good to go. He says I can return with her at my leisure and she will be repaired and returned to me. I am slightly sceptical but proceed on my way.
I book into a travel inn and grumble at the price, but plan to be up early to the dealer in the morning and do a recce of the area to ensure I can get there promptly.
Bright and early on the Monday morning I arrive at the dealer which is ominously quiet. I lurk for a bit. I wander round a bit. The tumbleweed blows across the carpark. A rusting sign creaks in the wind. (sorry - artistic license!!)
Eventually a smartly dressed cove appears who I deduce from the lack of oil is not a mechanic. He asks if he can help me, and I reply that I hope so, that I need a sensor and a man to fit it.
Ah. He is vaguely embarrassed. It is apparently a local public holiday and no mechanics are in. Local public holidays seem to be a peculiarly Scottish phenomenon, called for no apparent reason unless you count random agricultural shows or saints days. BAH.
He looks with rather exaggerated confidence under the bonnet and declares she is good to go. He says I can return with her at my leisure and she will be repaired and returned to me. I am slightly sceptical but proceed on my way.
The start of our woes......
Saturday - I retrieve The Bella Sofia from the dealer and begin the anticipated long but thrilling drive 500 miles north back to the outpost we inhabit. We zip up the M6 for a bit and then decide to snake a bit across the lovely autumnal Derbyshire Dales with a view to finding a country hotel in Yorkshire for the night. We are admittedly rather the worse for wear as the previous evening was Other Half's 30 year reunion and I was shamefully merry. Or drunk. Whatever.
200 miles under our wheels and there is an electronic beeping and a flashing warning on the dashboard. Horrors!! MOTOR CONTROL SYSTEM FAILURE. I shriek.... the car does not appear to lose power, or indeed show any signs of being unwell, but the message and the beeping is definite. We pull in to a hotel car park and summon the RAC.
After a long time and much yelling down the phone at the Birmingham Dealer (no names but they are in Knowle) the Chap in the Orange Van arrives and plugs in his laptop to Sofia's underneath. Indeed it does display a coded fault, but this appears to be due to a sensor failure rather than an actual real problem. The computer thinks something is wrong when in fact it is the computer that is wrong. RAC Chap resets, suggests I take her to a dealer on Monday for a new sensor, and departs.
Back on the road we go, first spending a night in the fab Ripon Spa Hotel which deserves a name check for the brilliantly friendly staff and amusing croquet party that kept us very entertained.
200 miles under our wheels and there is an electronic beeping and a flashing warning on the dashboard. Horrors!! MOTOR CONTROL SYSTEM FAILURE. I shriek.... the car does not appear to lose power, or indeed show any signs of being unwell, but the message and the beeping is definite. We pull in to a hotel car park and summon the RAC.
After a long time and much yelling down the phone at the Birmingham Dealer (no names but they are in Knowle) the Chap in the Orange Van arrives and plugs in his laptop to Sofia's underneath. Indeed it does display a coded fault, but this appears to be due to a sensor failure rather than an actual real problem. The computer thinks something is wrong when in fact it is the computer that is wrong. RAC Chap resets, suggests I take her to a dealer on Monday for a new sensor, and departs.
Back on the road we go, first spending a night in the fab Ripon Spa Hotel which deserves a name check for the brilliantly friendly staff and amusing croquet party that kept us very entertained.
Christine and the demise of self respect - introduction
Some people call it a mid life crisis. Others may call it delusion, temporary insanity... anyway such was my idea that the one thing that would make my life complete would be to once again own an Alfa Romeo. Like I had in the 80s, when life was simple and before Alfa though computerisation was the way to go. Back then, the biggest worry to Alfa ownership was the prospect of them rusting away under your nose.
So to avoid a lengthy epistle, I got Christine in June 2007. She wasn't called Christine then - she was The Bella Sofia, red sexy leather, quick off the mark and dead cool. I loved her in the most indecent way. I bought Prada shoes to match. My Other Half bought me red leather driving gloves. It was bliss.
For two months I zipped about like a smug honey racing to and fro - buzzing up and down the A9 - being fabulous. She was a dream car........ahhhhhhh!
In late September I decided that it was time she got a service and as I was going to be in the Midlands for a week or so, I booked her into a Birmingham main dealer. There was also a niggly noise in the belt area I needed checking. Hers not mine. I delivered her to the dealer and went to Spain for a week, leaving instructions to sort her out. Turned out they knew the car and had a list of previous work. Oddly enough I was reassured by this. Wrongly, as it turned out.
I returned after a week to a bill that would scare you. The noise had apparently emanated from the belt tensioner which had been replaced, along with various other vital components and bizarrely the window mechanism, which had not been broken in the first place, but which they had decided to disconnect and swap with the passenger mechanism. So now only one window opened........hmm. Hey de ho - I parted with the fortune and drove her away.
(It should be noted that the last paragraph refers to two issues which form a thread for the rest of this tale..... tensioner; window mechanism)
So to avoid a lengthy epistle, I got Christine in June 2007. She wasn't called Christine then - she was The Bella Sofia, red sexy leather, quick off the mark and dead cool. I loved her in the most indecent way. I bought Prada shoes to match. My Other Half bought me red leather driving gloves. It was bliss.
For two months I zipped about like a smug honey racing to and fro - buzzing up and down the A9 - being fabulous. She was a dream car........ahhhhhhh!
In late September I decided that it was time she got a service and as I was going to be in the Midlands for a week or so, I booked her into a Birmingham main dealer. There was also a niggly noise in the belt area I needed checking. Hers not mine. I delivered her to the dealer and went to Spain for a week, leaving instructions to sort her out. Turned out they knew the car and had a list of previous work. Oddly enough I was reassured by this. Wrongly, as it turned out.
I returned after a week to a bill that would scare you. The noise had apparently emanated from the belt tensioner which had been replaced, along with various other vital components and bizarrely the window mechanism, which had not been broken in the first place, but which they had decided to disconnect and swap with the passenger mechanism. So now only one window opened........hmm. Hey de ho - I parted with the fortune and drove her away.
(It should be noted that the last paragraph refers to two issues which form a thread for the rest of this tale..... tensioner; window mechanism)
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