Iorek heads south

Sam and Lucy's French sabbatical went sour at the beginning of the month when a chap pulled out in front of Sam in Bourg St Maurice. His car was damaged on the front nearside and he was also forced into the kerb, damaging his front wheel and strut.

It's the sort of thing you dread happening. Fortunately no-one was seriously hurt, although Sam has some whiplash, or similar. The worse thing is that you have to go through all the bureaucracy of filling in forms (but they're in French) and contacting your insurers (from France).

A few days later, Sam heard that his car would be written off - the cost of repairs was greater than the value of the car. It's a shame, because the Ford Focus (that had been Margaret's) was a really good car - reliable, fairly economical and pretty comfortable. There was no rust on it and every likelihood that it would have kept chugging along for another five years of so.

So the reality was that Sam and Lucy were stuck in France with no car and not even sure they would be able to hire a car short-term so they could continue to ski. I thought Sam would be able to do so and claim back the cost, but his insurance company said he'd have to claim back against the French insurer, so it was not going to be very straightforward. They certainly couldn't buy a car in France, as they'd be faced with either selling it in three months' time or else importing it into the UK and driving round in a left-hooker.

Max had said to me that he would get rid of his car in summer when his MoT ran out. He's not been using it very much and it's a further expense that he could do without. I'd said that if he did decide to get rid of it, I'd have it and we'd keep it in Thorney as a second car, so that any of the children could use it when they were home or wanted it for holidays. Frankly, it would have been useful these past few weeks as Andy Bunyan seems to have had my car more than I have,

Max's VW Polo was bought aboutfive years ago for £975; it's a 1-litre car with 160,000 miles on the clock and is 15 years old. I have a certain affection for it and some admiration for its longevity.

Anyway, I called Max to tell him about Sam's problems and asked him whether he would be willing to give Sam the car; he was, so on Monday, March 3rd, I caught the train to London and drove it back to Thorney. The plan was to get winter tyres fitted, get a new roof rack (so the ski clamps could be fitted), have it serviced and then drive it down to Bourg St Maurice the following Monday. I'd stay a few days, do some skiing and fly back.

This was one of those weeks when nothing seemed to run quite to plan. Andy Bunyan had the car for servicing and would also change the cam-belt and try to fix the exhaust (which is sound enough, but has an annoying rattle when you go round a left-hand bend or when you get past 70mph in a straight line. At some time, Max has had a new exhaust fitted and my theory is that the garage fitted the wrong one, so it's not properly seated in its channel below the car. At a couple of points, the exhaust heat shield is close to the bodywork and when the exhaust vibrates at higher throttle openings (or left-hand bends) it knocks against the car body. It's bloody annoying on a long run. Andy said he couldn't cure it, but he had lessened the problem.

It seemed much better, but it remains annoying, if at a different level than before. Getting winter tyres fitted in March was easier said than done. Most people are taking their winter tyres off and putting summer tyres on, so I was swimming against the tide. Kwik-Fit didn't come back to me, an internet based fit-at-home company took the order on their website, but when I called to confirm the fitting time, they said they didn't have any winter tyres and it would be two weeks before any could be ordered. Finally I found somewhere to do it, but they would need a week to get hold of the tyres.

Two jobs ticked off, but the third - the roof rack - proved most difficult. Sam could use my roof bars (and already has my ski clamps), but would need feet and fittings to attach the bars to his roof. I've used Thule bits and, because my car has roof bars, I just need the feet to attach to the bars. Halfords had the feet, but not the fittings, but could order some (ready in 2-3 days). I stressed I needed them for Saturday because I was driving to France. To cut a long and frustrating story short, they didn't arrive. Annoyingly, we discovered we could have paid an extra couple of pounds and had them next-day delivery (why the sales guy didn't tell us that, I have no idea); double annoying, I discovered they were available cheaper direct from Thule and they would do a next-day delivery. By the time I discovered this, it was Friday and the post had gone, so I could only order Monday for Tuesday delivery ...

In the end, Halfords gave us a refund and Sam ordered some magnetic ski clamps for £80, cheaper than the £110 for the Thule feet and fittings.

I booked the 6.30am ferry from Dover for Monday and the snow train back from Bourg Saint Maurice the following Saturday. The train was £95 one-way, compared to as little as £35 for a flight, but it left from Bourg (five minutes away from Sam's chalet). If I'd flown, I'd have had to be driven to either Geneva or Grenoble, with probably £30 in petrol and £20 in tolls; I'd also have had to pay for the Gatwick Express back to Victoria and then the Underground to King's Cross. Cost would have ended up somewhat higher; also, the flights were all around 9.30am on Saturday morning, so we'd have had to leave around 5.30am to allow travel time and to be there an hour before the flight leaves.

The Eurostar snow train leaves Bourg at 10.15am and 10.15pm (two trains on a Saturday only) and goes straight through to St Pancras in London. I went for the night one (it was cheaper and I could have a relaxing day in Bourg) and that got me back to St Pancras at 7am on Sunday.

The drive to Dover involves a 3am start and the M20 was closed so I had to use the M2 from Dartford to Dover. It wasn't too bad a trip and I was there in plenty of time. When I stepped into the back garden at 2.30am, Jupiter was setting in the west and Mars was shining red in the southern sky. As I approached Drover, I could see Venus shining brilliantly in the south-east just ahead of the dawn. Getting up early has few compensations, but three magnificent views of the planets is one of them.

Max's car is called Iorek Brynison, after the armoured polar bear in the book Northern Lights. I've never really been one for naming cars. My Ford Mondeo was called Monty and my first BMW GS motorcycle was called Beaky. I quite like giving a name to some inanimate object, but the name has to come, rather than be found by deliberation, so most of my cars are just called "the BMW" or "the Merc" or "the Golf".

Anyway, Iorek and I stepped off the P&O ferry at Calais with 600 miles of French roads between us and Bourg Saint Maurice. The car cruises comfortably at 70-80mph, but the exhaust rattle was a constant annoyance. It kicks in at 70mph, but also rattles even on gentle left-hand bends. I went through about four Bruce Springsteen CDs, then I think I Bruce Springsteen was more annoying than the exhaust rattle, so I pressed on regardless. I found that getting the speed up to about 85mph made the rattle disappear, but I thought running the car for six hours at that speed might be a bit much for a 15-year-old car with 160,000 miles on the clock.

The Polo doesn't have power steering or ABS and it's surprising how quickly you get used to such aids to driving. If you read about my first car on this blog, then you’ll see that the Polo is an absolute technical marvel, but compared to the BMW or even the Focus, it's from a different, pres-electronic era.

The other thing you have to do is wind down your own windows. I found that if I pulled alongside toll booths so that I was very close, I could lean across, wind down the passenger window and either grab the card or insert card/credit card to pay. I got into a bit of a swing with winding down the window on the approach and winding it back up as I accelerated away.

After a few of those, I decided that I'd get out of the car and run round to pay or grab a ticket. After six hours in the car, with just one petrol stop, I was getting worried about deep-vein thrombosis and thought the stretch would do me good.

Iorek did me proud, I took perhaps an hour longer than in the BMW, but still got to Sam and Lucy at around 6.30pm. Time for a beer and some food. They were pleased to see me but (I think) even more pleased to have a car once again. They were also pleased by the sight of two boxes of Tunnocks chocolate tea-cakes and a bottle of sherry. We don’t realise it, but these are British delicacies.

Next day Iorek had a wash at Super U and Sam and I gave it a waxing to restore some of the shine. The magnetic ski rack came after a couple of days and that seemed to work quite well. However, Sam had discovered you could get three sets of skis in the back, resting on the seat back and tucked under the passenger seat. With a towel to protect the back seat from being cut by the edges, you could get three people and skis inside without a ski rack.

The boot is good and deep, so it takes ski boots and poles quite easily. This Mk II Polo was a brilliant little car.

Iorek getting a wash at Super U. I think Lucy just wanted to play with the jet wash