Oil Be Damned

With well over 100,000 miles on the clock and every country of the United Kingdom under his drive belt, Monty is proving himself to be a fabulous car.

However, he's recently been a bit poorly.

On Friday morning, Coyote noticed a touch of oil on the tarmac of Traffic Towers.  He didn't think too much of it; after all, Monty had enjoyed a full service the day before.  It was probably just something settling in - or maybe they'd overfilled him a bit.

So he drove up to HQ as usual on Friday with nothing untoward happening.  No smoke, no clunking, no engine falling out onto the M4 spraying bits of gnarled metal across the carriageway...it looked like all was going to be just fine.  But no.

After being parked outside the cottage for a while, it was evident that there was a substantial oil leak.  Monty was bleeding!  While Coyote slept after a grinding early shift, I wriggled underneath to have a better look.  There wasn't anything obviously wrong with the underside; so I slipped a couple of trays underneath to see just how much oil he was losing.

It rained that night and we woke the following morning to see a beautiful rainbow.  Normally we would've been quite pleased to see such vibrant colours...but it's not quite the same when the rainbow is trickling out from under your car.

We decided to play it safe and stay local - so we drove to Machynlleth to pick up some bits and pieces.  Cheese Strings, mainly.  When we walked back to the car after exiting the supermarket, it was evident that Monty was in a bad way.  The oil was dripping out of him like snot drips out of a primary school kid's nose in a winter playground.  We needed to get some oil.

Off to Tuffin's we trundled - where we bought 2 litres of juice to try and top Monty up.  We were only in the shop a matter of minutes, but came out to see oily footprints all over the car park.  Uh oh.

There was only one thing for it.  We didn't know what was wrong...but we knew a man who would.  A very nice man.  Yes, a Very Nice Man. It was time to call the men in yellow.

While our knight in fluorescent jacket made his way from Shrewsbury (about 60 miles away) to rescue us, Coyote went and bought him a coffee and a Mars Bar - he's thoughtful like that - and I entertained myself by making oily flower pictures in the car park.  It was 4 degrees and chucking it down; but we didn't care.  We just wanted Monty to live!

Eventually, the Very Nice Man - thank you, Andrew! - arrived and shoved his head under the bonnet:

After a lot of tweaking, tinkering, glaring, revving and dabbing, it was concluded that the oil filter - which, remember, had only been fitted the previous day - was leaking profusely.  Apparently that's what can happen when a spurious part is fitted in place of the genuine, made-for-the-purpose part that you expect and pay for.

Thankfully, the Very Nice Man managed to twist the oil filter on much tighter than it should've needed and the leak appeared to stop.  

Coyote drove back to Cardiff this morning without incident, but he'll be calling the garage that 'serviced' Monty to have a select few words in their shell-likes.

Hopefully, they'll admit the error of their ways and put things right.  If not, I dread to think what's going to happen.  I'm not saying that he or I will do anything rash...but Limmy might.  Yes - our mascot Limmy the SheepHog.  You should've seen him when a Freeloader took Monty's wing mirror off.  He was chuntering in Gaelic, foaming at the mouth and everything!  I've advised Coyote to keep an eye on him if he has to return to the garage any time soon.  

SheepHog bites can be nasty.

With much gratitude to @AA_Members

Goleudy's Lighthouses

If you know me on Twitter, you'll know my name's 'Goleudy'.  I often wonder how many people mispronounce it in their minds; completely unaware that it's the Welsh word for 'lighthouse'!  Yep - I love lighthouses.  I can even remember the very moment I fell in love with them.

It was a stormy night in 1999 and I was tucked up at home, full of flu and feeling generally miserable.  Flicking through the TV channels, I came across a film called 'Losing Chase'.  There was a woman in a blue dress going loopy atop a red brick lighthouse in the middle of a storm similar to the one that was raging outside my living room window.  I even remember the lines spoken:

"A slow, steady decline and then BAM! One triumphant stand at Gayhead Lighthouse in the middle of a spectacular nor'easter.  I sure picked one hell of a storm."

To be honest, the rest of the film was pretty crap and not worth recalling...but I remembered the lighthouse.

Ever since then, I've been fascinated by those tall buildings that warn ships of danger and guide them to safety.  There's just something beautifully enduring about them; something that endears me to them and makes my heart smile every time I see one.

With Coyote, I've been lucky enough to see and photograph lighthouses in Wales, England, Ireland and Scotland - and no matter how many I see, I never get bored with them.  Hell - I'm even a member of the Association of Lighthouse Keepers!  Yes, I'm a nerd...and I wear my enamel pin-badge with pride ;)

Being a lighthouse geek, I'm bound to have a few favourites.  Like petrolheads and their cars, some lighthouses hold special places in my heart and shine brighter than the rest.  All lighthouses are wonderful (apart from the Whiteford Point Lighthouse on Gower. That one scares me.) but there are six in particular that mean a lot to me.

So, without further twaddle, I'd like to introduce you to my top six!  Flashy flashy...

TRWYN DU LIGHTHOUSE, ANGLESEY

Built in 1838 at a cost of £11,589, Trwyn Du is a beautiful old lady who stands proudly between Dinmor Point and Puffin Island, Anglesey.  On a quiet day, you can hear the fog bell that hangs from the railing sounding every thirty seconds. 

LOOP HEAD LIGHTHOUSE, COUNTY CLARE

The current tower was built in 1854 on the site of previous structures dating back to 1670. Loop Head Lighthouse stands at the tip of the Loop Head Peninsula where the Shannon River meets the Atlantic Ocean - and Coyote took me to see it on my 31st birthday.  I have very happy memories of standing on top of the cliffs on a stunningly gorgeous day, looking out to the horizon.  'Next stop, America!' he smiled. (We actually went back to Galway and got a McDonald's, but I'm not fussy ;)

STRUMBLE HEAD LIGHTHOUSE, PEMBROKESHIRE

Standing alone on Ynys Meicel (St. Michael's Island), Strumble Head Lighthouse is separated from the mainland by a very narrow gap through which the sea boils and froths in stormy weather.  Built in 1908, this lighthouse is the youngest of the six - but isn't lacking in charm.  She packs a punch, too:  Her 1,000,000 candela light can be seen 26 nautical miles away.

POINT OF AYR LIGHTHOUSE, FLINTSHIRE

Built in 1776 but inactive since 1883 when a lightship took over her duties, Point of Ayr lighthouse stands forlornly on Talacre Beach.  The lighthouse once displayed two lights: The main beam shone seaward to Llandudno and a secondary beam shone up the River Dee, towards the hamlet of Dawpool in Cheshire.  The lighthouse was put up for sale in November 2011 - and bought in April last year for the fair sum of £90,000. I hope the new owners can restore this sad-looking lighthouse to her original glory!

SOUTH STACK LIGHTHOUSE, ANGLESEY

Separated from Holyhead Island by 30 metres of swirling sea, South Stack Lighthouse was built in 1809 at a cost of £12,000.  She's a very elegant tower; but her beauty belies her dark story. On Tuesday the 25th October 1859, the most severe storm of the century occurred.  Assistant Keeper Jack Jones had been making his way across the iron footbridge to join Principal Keeper, Henry Bowen, who was already on duty.  A rock was swept from the cliffs by the strong wind, fell and struck Jones on the head.  Covered in blood and senseless with concussion, he dragged himself up the gale-lashed path and feebly cried out for help.  He lay, head in hands, unable to move any further.  Bowen found him the next morning, groaning; his hair matted with blood.  Jack Jones died three weeks later of a compound fracture of the skull.  

ARDNAMURCHAN LIGHTHOUSE, WEST HIGHLANDS

Situated on the most westerly point of the British mainland, Ardnamurchan Lighthouse was built in 1849 using granite from the Isle of Mull.  It was designed by Alan Stevenson - uncle of Robert Louis Stevenson - whose family designed most of Scotland's lighthouses over a period of 150 years.  On the morning of 22nd January 1852, there was severe storm and lightning struck the tower causing broken panes and plaster to come off the walls. Fifty feet of boundary wall was knocked down and 40 feet of road was washed away by the heavy seas. The keepers boat was broken up although they had secured it 15 feet above the last known high water mark.  It's rough out there!  Almost as rough as the seemingly never-ending road we had to travel to reach it.  And I won't even tell you what happened on the way back.  Just think full bladders + pot holes - public toilets and you'll get the general idea.  Worth it, though!  As every single one of them is.

Below Her Free Sky

Soundlessly, the red kite swoops on the wind.  Feathers sleek and wings steady, she hovers for a moment - her burning yellow eyes following something scuttling through the long grass below her.  She brings her tail in and instantly veers off towards the hills, soaring high before dipping and spiralling elegantly; seeming to gambol on the breeze.  She doesn't want to feed just yet.

The gentle afternoon sunlight bounces off her back; a myriad of shimmering reds and browns as she lifts her head and catches a thermal - flying ever higher into the vast blueness until her shadowless body disappears into the clouds.

Far below her free sky, we sit and watch enviously.

100,000 and Counting!

He did it!  Our beloved Monty has reached the hallowed 100,000 miles!

The first time I met Coyote, I thought Monty was black.  Not only that, but I wasn't all that impressed if I'm going to be honest.  I'm a country girl, you see...I like things with diff locks that are covered in mud.  'This is a town car,' I thought.  'Something that's probably economical on fuel and easy to park...but will more than likely fall apart within a year.'

How wrong could I have been?

Monty's an absolute gem.  We named him when we were in Montgomeryshire (originality fail!) and we've explored thousands of miles with him and his guardian - Limmy the Sheephog - who sits on his dash, watching out for BOFmobiles and barking at Mansel Davies lorries. (Yes, he barks.  Clever for a sheep/hedgehog cross but then this is the sheephog that chased Terry Wogan out of Limerick.  We never doubt him.)

Wales, England, Eire, Northern Ireland and Scotland - we've seen them all thanks to Monty.  Who, incidentally  is also called Minty.  Because he's blue and always has a packet of Smints or three in a door pocket.

We may drool over shiny Land Rover Defenders.  We may swoon when we see a brand new County...but we're not parting with Monty just yet.  He's a member of the team and we love him to bits!

*Meep Meep!*  

On Thin Ice

Picture the scene:  It's been snowing for two days.  Some of the snow has now melted, leaving a layer of treacherous ice on the steps that lead up to your front door.  Sensibly, you break open a bag of rock salt and do away with the nasty stuff before it leads to a broken bone or three.  You find you've got some left over...so, in the bitter cold of a winter's night, you spread it over your neighbour's path.  You watch it dissolve and enjoy the warm knowledge that they won't slip as they walk to their car in the morning.

Now picture this:  The following morning, having walked down their perfectly clear path, your neighbour doesn't thank you...but tells you that you shouldn't grit other people's paths because you could get sued.

How would you feel?  We felt sad.

These days, the fear of litigation takes precedence over altruism.  If someone gritted your path thoroughly and you still slipped, would you blame them?  We certainly wouldn't.  Let's face it - at least they tried to help you.  

Can it be true that the chance of getting money can make people blind to the helpfulness of others?  It certainly looks that way.  

It seems that if you sit back and do nothing, watch your neighbour fall and break their arm, you're safe.  However, if you attempt to clear a neighbour's path and they still slip and injure themselves, you could face a hefty court case.  In short, you could be sued for being helpful.

Surely spreading grit on ice is only going to make the situation better?  Even if it doesn't dissolve the ice completely, it will stop it from re-freezing and the grit will add traction underfoot.  

While the Met Office Website states, 'Don't be put off clearing paths because you're afraid someone will get injured. Remember, people walking on snow and ice have a responsibility to be careful themselves.' I for one am now very wary of trying to help out.  I'll do it for my family - but no longer for anyone else without asking.  If they give me their full consent, then I'll help...but I won't be doing it out of the impromptu kindness of my own heart any more.

'Compensation Culture' has reached new levels of ridiculousness.  People need a bit of grit - in both senses.

**UPDATE**

Huge thanks to Rachel Jones of A470 Training for retweeting the link to this blog and for enlightening me on the birth of 'Gritgate'.

This debate reached boiling point in 2010 and it all stemmed from misinformation published in The Sunday Telegraph and The Daily Mail.  The Institution of Occupational Safety and Health has never stated that gritting public pathways could lead to legal action if somebody is injured. 

So, really, it's an urban myth that was created by shoddy journalism.  The question is - has the damage already been done?  I'm not sure I want to face castigation every time I try to help someone who still believes that I shouldn't be gritting my neighbours' paths. 

But then...if everyone thought like that, nobody would help anyone any more...

Hmm.  Think I'll be buying a few more bags tomorrow. Ninja Gritters unite! 

Grit and Determination

As you may have noticed, it's been a bit chilly lately.  There's snow, there's ice...and there's the usual sense of panic that results in empty shelves at the supermarket and a marked increase in the sales of thermal knickers.

Naturally, that hasn't put Coyote and I off toddling around the country in search of fun and photos.  Only yesterday we headed north and found ourselves on a rather bleak Crimea Pass:

It really is beautiful up there.  If you don't see another car, it's easy to imagine that you're the only people left alive after some catastrophic event involving zombies.  It's like a post-apocalyptic movie set.  Like Anglesey, really...but pretty.  We noticed the snow starting to stick to the road, so when we passed the sign for Conwy County, we spun around and headed back through Blaenau Ffestiniog.  That was strange, actually...because it seems that they've changed the town a bit since we were last there.  Now, the train station boasts a slate monolith that wouldn't look out of place in a stage production of '2001: A Space Odyssey'; and there are some strange sculptures there that, apparently, are called the 'Fat Ladies'.  I'm saying nothing.

On our way back to HQ we got stuck behind a gritter (top photo).  Of course, it can be bloody frustrating crawling along behind one of those as it chucks salt in your face...but it's also very reassuring.  You would think, then, that anyone travelling behind one on potentially icy bends would be happy to wait a little while to pass.  It would seem not...

"Oh no!  I mustn't get salt on my chrome grille...!"

"I must pass this horrid thing before my BOFmobile gets tainted."

"Yes...a nice wide berth I think.  Splendid."

**Turns Rachmaninov CD up to 6...**

"Marvellous! Now home for a bacon sandwich."

It just had to be a BOFmobile, didn't it?  And, for the record, his registration was '58 KEN'.  No further words are required really, are they?

THE PRIZE BOF QUIZ!

Over the course of the last year, we've been trying to educate you in The Ways of the BOF.  We've recently been wondering if any of you have paid any attention at all...

...and have decided that the best way to find out is to roll out a pop quiz - or a 'BOF Quiz', if you will!  

This will both help us determine if our tutoring techniques are any good and, we hope, make you smile a bit.  But don't think this is a test without rewards...oh no!  You could WIN A PRIZE!  Yes!  A PRIZE! (Don't worry; it's not a sprout.  That picture was the only thing I could come up with at short notice.)

We can't possibly divulge what the prize is, but if you submit one of the first 5 correct sets of answers, we'll send you something excitingly exclusive*.  We only have limited supplies of this item, but you're more than worth it if you prove you've got what it takes to be a BOF Warrior.

So, without further Apu from The Simpsons...eyes down, look in!  (And no cheating at the back.  We can see you.)

THE PRIZE BOF QUIZ!

Q1 - Which of the following is a BOF's glove compartment most likely to contain?
A) Travel sweets

B) Discarded receipts

C) £500 cash for on-the-spot fines

D) Vehicle log book

Q2 - What is a BOF's favourite colour?
A) Purple

B) British Racing Green

C) Navy Blue

D) Neon Yellow

Q3 - Which of these musicians does a BOF prefer?

A) David Bowie

B) Leonard Cohen

C) Rachmaninov

D) Roger Whittaker

Q4 - Which of the following is a BOF's favourite type of footwear?

A) Flip Flops

B) Crocs

C) Loafers

D) Chelsea Boots

Q5 - What musical instrument is a BOF most likely to play?

A) Bass Guitar

B) Trombone

C) Piano

D) Bagpipes

Q6 - A BOF's favourite food is...?

A) Cabbage

B) Bacon

C) Caviar

D) Fillet steak

Q7 - Which of these counties is favoured a BOF?

A) Shropshire

B) Pembrokeshire

C) Worcestershire

D) Staffordshire

Q8 - A BOF drives a...?

A) Reliant Robin

B) Nissan Qashqai

C) Mazda MX5

D) Range Rover

Q9 - What does 'BOF' stand for?

A) Blindingly Old Fellow

B) Big Old Flump

C) Bloody Ouchy Finger

D) Ssh...it's a secret

Q10 - Which letter of the alphabet does a BOF's name commonly start with?

A) X

B) Q

C) J

D) Z

***END OF TEST***

So - how did you do?!

Send your answers to us via Twitter (@Goleudy or @MarkTheTravel) and if you're one of the first 5 correct submissions, we'll send your hard-earned prize to you in the post.  First class, of course.

Good luck! x

DISCLAIMER: We hold no responsibility for any confusion, bafflement, disappointment or complete disgruntlement caused by the prize item.  Please keep prize item away from children and gerbils.  Prize item is not suitable for dishwashers, microwaves or shredded as a salad garnish. *Prize item is only 'excitingly exclusive' if you don't live in Pembrokeshire.