That was wishful thinking. I should have known that Murphy wasn’t going to leave me yet. It all went reasonably well, while the motor was being put together. I stayed up giving Chris moral support. Although my endless questions about what that is called and what this does may have been more of an irritent than support, but at least I learnt a thing or two in the process.
I did help tighten a couple of bolts, but otherwise I left the main work to him. In the morning, I packed my stuff in the hotel room, full of guarded optimism that I will be on my way. We started the motor and it sounded sweet. Then my black box (a device intended to warn me of water levels, oil pressure etc), started beeping complaining that the alternator was not charging.
Another hour of tests and we ascertained that the alternator was in fact charging, so I decided to bypass the complaining circuit, because the critical water level warning light was still working.
A quick test ride around the block was all that was left. And thats just when Murphy reminded me that he was still around. In succession we solved, a lose turbo pipe that made the motor rev uncontrollably, a loose vacuum pipe that caused the brakes to fail, and an immobiliser that decided I was stealing my own car and stopped diesel from flowing to the engine.
It sounds fairly straightforward but There were at least two occassions this morning that I decided it was best to go back home. Clearly this trip was not meant to be.
But after we solved all the problems, I decided to drive for an hour north and then decide whether to continue. Steadily the thought of going back home and back to work looked more and more unpalatable. So I pushed on.
One and a half hours into the drive the engine water boiled again. I discovered that the radiator cap had stripped and water was leaking out. Duct tape to the rescue! I made a temporary plug to get me to the next town where another mechanic made me a home made radiator cap.
Now I was really on my way. I headed in the direction of Springbok and hopefully the border before bedtime. Shortly before Springbok as it was getting dark, I stopped for a rest, and open the bonnet for a quick check. You guessed it - another problem. One of the radiator hoses had been worn through and leaking profusely.
Duct tape worked last time, so I taped it up and with KFC nuggets in my lap I decided to try and get through the border post. The new facility there made the officials a bit more thorough than usual, and they even took my laptop serial number after asking me four times if I was carrying any fuel in my jerry cans. Otherwise it was fairly painless crossing into Namibia.
It felt like an achievement to get there, and after a quick inspection at the Noordoever lodge, I decided to press on as far as I could to shorten my drive to Windhoek tomorrow. I eventually pitched a tent in a Keetmanshoop camp site and 1 a.m, and dosed to the sound of a wind pump clanging as it turned gently from the wind.
As I drifted in and out of sleep, I wonder if I’m showing perseverance or plain stupidity carrying on and hoping to go into the most remote area in Southern Africa, with a vehicle, which frankly I wasn’t sure was healthy.
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