At last! The actual vehicle of our inevitable roadside breakdown has coughed into view and is currently sitting in the communal car park where I live, much to the annoyance of other residents presumably.
Lets remind ourselves of what we have to deal with here shall we? 1200+ miles of European roads without back-up or AA support, mechanical expertise that pretty much runs dry after 'change tyre', four ever expanding specimens of alpha male flesh and bone, one dodgy back, a perennial dicky tum, luggage for all, and combined personal habits that would make a troop of monkeys blush.
With such a heady cocktail, one might expect a sensible estate car (that could be 'station wagon' to some readers) of reasonable vintage from a reliable marque to make the short list of suitable transportation. Perhaps a boring but spacious SUV or people carrier, 'comfort over class' I hear you murmur and nod with approval. Maybe a big ole' ponderous Merc with masses of pedigree and volumous trunk? 'The very thing!' you opine. Even a cheeky Japanese hatchback jobbie would do, oozing everlasting reliability and practicality. 'Nooo way!' you declare. 'Haven't you ever seen 'Bridge on the River Kwai? They're still not forgiven for sending Alec Guinness doo-lally'.
Sadly the £200 budget somewhat crimped our style so something a little more compact and modest and mature had to be settled for. In the end, I parted company with £80 and saved a 21 year old Volkswagen Polo from the scrap heap.
For those unfamiliar, it fits the 'urban runaround' moniker perfectly and carries two up front with a passable degree of comfort. And...... no, that's it. It fits two fairly comfortably. The two that get dumped in the rear are likely to suffer from deep vein thrombosis about 50 miles into the trip. I don't think there will be a shortage of volunteers for the roles of navigator or driver.
The VW Polo scampers to 60mph with ease on open roads after 10.2 seconds of patient waiting, or did so when factory fresh (and this one isn't) and then sits there with relative gay abandon until the brakes are applied, whereupon, it slows calmly but firmly to a halt well short of the toddler who's just run out into the road in front of you without looking (this example does none of the above). It will carry its load at a top speed of 117mph (Yeah! Right!) if one is feeling a bit 'F1' on any given day. It has some windows, two of which used to be electric, a steering wheel which broadly moves the car left when you pull down on it with the left hand and right-ish when you pull down with the right hand. Those are the main features. It is a perfect example of function over unnecessary frippery and not exactly awash with gadgets.
Sure, the shocks have collapsed. I'll admit, one of the tyres has lost 80% of the rubber it was originally sold with. The bodywork rust has in actuality become the dominant exterior colour, overtaking the factory paint job. The fact that the radio can't be heard above the knocking and clonking from under the bonnet hasn't escaped my notice, but it does at least HAVE a radio. All in all, I was mildly surprised (perhaps 'shocked to the very core' might cover the ground more adequately) that it passed its MOT without more than a few minor advisory complaints. But here it is, all legal and above board.
I should finish by offering mighty big congratulations to Volkswagen for producing such a stalwart example of 1990's mechanical engineering. Refreshingly minimalist, and unexpectedly still sailing under its own steam. A bit more legroom wouldn't have gone amiss, but you can't have everything can you?
Lets remind ourselves of what we have to deal with here shall we? 1200+ miles of European roads without back-up or AA support, mechanical expertise that pretty much runs dry after 'change tyre', four ever expanding specimens of alpha male flesh and bone, one dodgy back, a perennial dicky tum, luggage for all, and combined personal habits that would make a troop of monkeys blush.
With such a heady cocktail, one might expect a sensible estate car (that could be 'station wagon' to some readers) of reasonable vintage from a reliable marque to make the short list of suitable transportation. Perhaps a boring but spacious SUV or people carrier, 'comfort over class' I hear you murmur and nod with approval. Maybe a big ole' ponderous Merc with masses of pedigree and volumous trunk? 'The very thing!' you opine. Even a cheeky Japanese hatchback jobbie would do, oozing everlasting reliability and practicality. 'Nooo way!' you declare. 'Haven't you ever seen 'Bridge on the River Kwai? They're still not forgiven for sending Alec Guinness doo-lally'.
Sadly the £200 budget somewhat crimped our style so something a little more compact and modest and mature had to be settled for. In the end, I parted company with £80 and saved a 21 year old Volkswagen Polo from the scrap heap.
For those unfamiliar, it fits the 'urban runaround' moniker perfectly and carries two up front with a passable degree of comfort. And...... no, that's it. It fits two fairly comfortably. The two that get dumped in the rear are likely to suffer from deep vein thrombosis about 50 miles into the trip. I don't think there will be a shortage of volunteers for the roles of navigator or driver.
The VW Polo scampers to 60mph with ease on open roads after 10.2 seconds of patient waiting, or did so when factory fresh (and this one isn't) and then sits there with relative gay abandon until the brakes are applied, whereupon, it slows calmly but firmly to a halt well short of the toddler who's just run out into the road in front of you without looking (this example does none of the above). It will carry its load at a top speed of 117mph (Yeah! Right!) if one is feeling a bit 'F1' on any given day. It has some windows, two of which used to be electric, a steering wheel which broadly moves the car left when you pull down on it with the left hand and right-ish when you pull down with the right hand. Those are the main features. It is a perfect example of function over unnecessary frippery and not exactly awash with gadgets.
Sure, the shocks have collapsed. I'll admit, one of the tyres has lost 80% of the rubber it was originally sold with. The bodywork rust has in actuality become the dominant exterior colour, overtaking the factory paint job. The fact that the radio can't be heard above the knocking and clonking from under the bonnet hasn't escaped my notice, but it does at least HAVE a radio. All in all, I was mildly surprised (perhaps 'shocked to the very core' might cover the ground more adequately) that it passed its MOT without more than a few minor advisory complaints. But here it is, all legal and above board.
I should finish by offering mighty big congratulations to Volkswagen for producing such a stalwart example of 1990's mechanical engineering. Refreshingly minimalist, and unexpectedly still sailing under its own steam. A bit more legroom wouldn't have gone amiss, but you can't have everything can you?
