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.
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