After landing back in the UK, the truth was that we we still had plenty of miles to cover. We’d clocked up around 300 miles getting to Dover, then another 200 in France itself. We still had another 300 odd miles to go. I couldn’t waste the opportunity of being in the South East, so our drive home would involved a couple of business meetings. The first was with this rather special Jaguar Mk1 for an upcoming feature in Classic Jaguar magazine. A thoroughly fascinating visit, and one which should make for a very interesting feature.
Again, we broke up the journey home with an overnight stay in Sussex. I managed to distract my train-obsessed nephew enough for him to help me check over the car (oil level fine, lights all working).
In truth, all really was pretty much ok. There had been a build up of some sort of substance on the windscreen, either fumes from a leaky head joint or mist from a mild oil leak. Nothing I could do about these things now other than push on home.
I had another quick meeting with another editor in Shoreham, which meant when we finally started heading home, we were dangerously close to the south coast. I say dangerously, because we have previous experience of the horrors of the south coast – we’ve never been to Bournemouth again since experiencing absolute traffic chaos there (in the 2CV) in 2008. Sure enough, the roads were somewhat sticky, this being a bank holiday week. It seemed to take forever to reach a decent, open stretch of road. In fact, the A419 from Swindon to Cirencester was about the first time we managed to settle down to a cruise. Even then, there was still the horror of Air Balloon roundabout, where some old lady in a Honda Jazz was amusingly unfriendly at a traffic merge. The plus side of the 2CV is that I could simply turn the engine off going downhill, as the brakes, brake lights and steering all work without it being on.
There was the usual frantic blat around Gloucester before the roads became rural once more. We had one stop for tea and cake, getting our foot through the door just before the restaurant closed at this garden centre.
Then it was the final push home, which had very little in the way of peril or jeopardy, unless you include my cornering style. I must have been pushing a bit as my unflappable wife actually made comment. Sure enough, the car that had been tailgating me uphill decided to hang back by some distance…
I’m surprised I had the energy for such antics, as hooning a 2CV is hard work. My shoulders and arms were certainly starting to ache, as were my fingers. Clearly, driving cars with power assisted steering has made me rather soft.
Eventually, we did make it home of course. I expressed some satisfaction with that – 900 miles in five days and no breakdowns. Others wondered what the fuss was about, and I guess that’s fair comment. I had no doubts the car would reach its next 3000-mile service interval, so what does it matter if some of those miles were done quite quickly, and in a different country?
But, I guess it was proof that Elly is functioning pretty much correctly again after a major rebuild, and that’s always nice. Sure, there’s a fair snagging list from the trip, but most of these minor gremlins existed before we set off. The kingpins do have a bit of play in them, the rear wheel bearings do seem to be a little noisy, the handbrake really does need adjusting properly (I think I’ve managed to make it worse in fact) and noise really is still an issue! I’m not sure what we can do about wind noise, which is a large part of it – especially when you need the windows open for ventilation!
Nonetheless, I was pleased to have encountered so few issues on so major a trip. Now, when’s the next adventure?