"Lauren" - The Final Hurdle by Pat Shrimpton At long last I had reached the point of no return. After all the "might be on the road next week/month/year" it was time to actually face reality and take the final step. Now everything was working in some form or another it was time to sort out the last problem before she was ready to attempt to hit the road. The red charge light would NOT go out. Having rebuilt the dynamo, checked all wiring including the ballast resistor, and fitting a new regulator and starter relay, nothing would happen. Every thing was taken off and rechecked - no problems showing on the test equipment - what the hell was wrong? In desperation dynamo and regulator were tested together. Ah-ha, for some reason yet unanswered, when run together, the shuttle on the regulator just would not work: answer, replace new, but faulty regulator, with another new regulator and the problem is solved. We have finally reached the final hurdle. Those three little insignificant letters that can strike fear and terror into the heart of even the strongest willed amongst us the infamous "MOT". As with all best laid plans, something always has to go wrong. On the final check of all testable items, the horn decides to develop a "silent" approach to life. This was rapidly traced to a faulty relay, a hasty dismantle job, sorted, and off we go to the appointment with destiny. The journey to the test centre was clouded by the recurring concern about the infamous vacuum wipers. These worked perfectly in the rain, preferably a reasonable downpour, but in dry conditions the usual 4-day amble across the screen, including a picnic stop and generally enjoying the view, was the order of the day, despite liberal coatings of slippy-slidy stuff on the rubbers - no difference. The original foot-operated washers were supposed to switch in the wiper for a limited number of sweeps, but this was too risky for an MOT, so it was disconnected. One look from my friendly tester and all started to be revealed. The puzzled look never really disappearing from his face. Apparently, I fell into a Category 5 on the machine, and as he said" I have never done a category 5 before. From then on life became a mystery for my man, so everything checked, headlights adjusted so as not to permanently damage the eyesight of approaching aliens and the magic words were heard. It’s passed! Having spent half an hour crawling over, under and around everything I did not have the heart to point out that the only thing that never actually got looked at in all the confusion was . . . You’ve guessed, the wipers. Two hours later and it’s off we go, having answered all the questions under the sun from every passer by, the most common being: "They don’t build them like they used too" -"where do you park it" and the obvious "What do you get to the gallon". To answer those questions in order. 1) No they don’t. 2) Wherever I want to", and 3) Don’t know and don’t care! A stupid question really, as when I asked the same question of them no one had a clue what their Eurobox did per gallon. So why ask, when they have no real idea what to compere it to, or that how you drive your car can have a big effect on gas consumption? Time to move on to one off life’s ultimate successes, armed with insurance certificate, MOT, log book and VIO, a visit to the local DVLA office. At last, the final accolade, after 42 years, a FREE Tax disc. Lauren had finally become eligible for her first trip of freedom on the open road (in reality a twenty minute drive home at about ten miles an hour in a seemingly endless traffic jam, but so what, she had made it at last. Having to do everything one’s self due to lack of funds, is a very good way of learning the ins and outs of sorting your car out and one’s own shortcomings. How I wish I could re-chrome everything myself! There are, as always, things that are not quite finished, or I am not happy with, but at least I still have something left to do. So looking back. With all the grazed knuckles, rust and dust. The freezing long lonely nights, and paint fumes, successes, failures, credit card bills, telephone bills and hours and hours of work - was it all worth it? In a way, yes it was, as Lauren can now enjoy a way of life that she was deprived of before. But would I do it all again . . .? You bet I would. So if you will excuse me I have to start to plan another journey around the Essex countryside, or Suffolk, Norfolk, Cumbria, Cornwall, anywhere really!