Roadblock!

It being the silly season, the police are currently out in force with random roadblocks popping up everywhere - quickly moving on before the word spreads where they are.

Thus it was I was toodling home from the mall this week and a bloke with a reflective vest jumped out into the road to wave me over.  Along with a few other vehicles.

Normally we as drivers try to avoid police stopping us.  We change lanes, we turn off and go another route before we reach them, we generally expect much unpleasantness.

Well this time I pulled over, opened the window and greeted the obvious boss of the group who walked up to Olivia.  Large, white and Afrikaans, he looked like a typical traffic cop in South Africa.  But instead of asking for my licence etc, he started peering at, walking around and gesturing toward my Landy with a few people in tow!

I jumped out to see what he was up to - and found out he's busy rebuilding a Series vehicle.  He asked what engine I had - he's got the same.  Then it was a general look-in as I had to unlock the bonnet, show him what was in there - yup, same engine - and chat through the joys of replacing and fixing various bits, who to get them from locally, how it's hard to find some parts but not others.  He informed me he's redone the diffs, he's changed this and that, and it's nearly done.

Meanwhile his tiny, ancient, coloured colleague was doing the usual police stuff - writing down registration, make/model - and finally got a word in to ask for my licence.  When I handed it to him, he got this funny look on his face.

Oh dear.. I know it hasn't expired, what's the problem?

No, nothing - it seems we have the same birthday!  He's 48, I'm 39 (hmmm... he's not as ancient as I thought at first).  So it was handshakes and birthday wishes for last weekend all round, "and my name's Nick", "pleased to meet you!".

Final look at my registration, and an "oh, you're from here!  see you around", then it was a wave back on my way with smiles and greetings.

Now I know police are merely humans like the rest of us.  In fact I know quite a few of them pretty well as we provide wireless internet to the crime scene investigation unit's guys in their offices.  We're on first-name basis with the entire floor.   And by association, when we stop off at the police station for various reasons, the guys there know who we are too.

But guess what - my perception of roadblocks has been completely changed by this one event.  Traffic cops doing their festive season duty indeed, but with a lot more in common than we could ever have imagined.

Modern Machine

Olivia has decided it's time she did some social networking.  She's now on Facebook.  You're welcome to ask for her friendship - but I can't guarantee she'll add you! :-)  She has, however, friended a couple of other Landies, and they seem to be swapping hints and tips to sort out their humans...

Back where she belongs

Olivia's back on the road! Yay! Details to follow, but she's finally home... and Favourite Man convinced me that this should be the first order of business:

One quick trip to the beauty salon later and she's clean & shiny.  As far as I know, this is her first paid-for "spa treatment" other than a thorough hosing down with pressurized cold water before we started work on her three years ago.  Everything else has just been home facials.

Back to roots

When I first started this blog, it was intended to track quite the daring adventure. Me and the kid, chucking in life as we knew it and heading off on roads unknown in an old Landy until we ran out of either road or cash. Such beeeeg dreams :-) (Hey, there are many who have done it, it's not impossible)

But looky here - niggling thoughts in similar veins have been tapping me on the shoulder lately. I have been fighting with all I'm worth the urge to sell the businesses, pack up the house and head into the middle of nowhere. I don't know if it's the winter doldrums setting in, the posts from the Adventurists on Facebook telling tales of the upcoming Mongol Rally, or merely the realization (yet again) that life is more than just work or routine - and there is a planet out there awaiting exploration. Or simply the need to get some bushveld in my blood after too long away from it.

As I plod through the daily activities my head's elsewhere. Plotting and scheming and dreaming. Itchy feet, thirst for adventure, need for change - call it what you will.

I suspect if we could do it, we'd be off within a week.

Then again, what's really stopping us....?

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Reality check - Olivia's engine's still being rebuilt. If we had to go anywhere now it would be on foot.

Heart transplant

Olivia's in hospital - REAL hospital not the home-care kind. She's gone in to have her old tired 2.6 engine replaced with a better 2.6! In theory it should be an easy swap...

Let's hope so.

I am not a soccer mom

(Olivia's still sitting waiting for her new heart/brain still.. it's been quiet here..)

I am not a soccer mom.

You see them driving their Discoveries and Range Rovers and Defenders every day, picking up the kids from school, taking them to their after-hours activities, going shopping, meeting the girls for coffee while the boys are out earning a living and paying off the cars/houses/holidays. Land Rovers shiny and comfortable, with carpets (!) and aircon (!!) and seatbelts all round.

They're the women who know nothing about the community and culture behind our trucks - these are merely big vehicles that can carry the kids and their clobber, that mosey on through traffic and do what they do. The most mud they see is the pothole where the roadworks are going on.

And they don't wave back.

They don't even see other Landies on the road! A car is a car is a car.

But I am not a soccer mom. I may be seen more often lately in a Discovery 2 (while Olivia's on holiday), but I'm not one of that crowd.

The truck I'm driving works for a living, earns its keep, and is cursed at / coaxed along as one of the family (as a proper Land Rover should be). I've knocked my head on its diffs, burnt my arms on its exhaust pipe, and wound duct tape around a hose to limp home. I've fed it diesel and antifreeze (probably in equal amounts), prayed it to life in the morning and treated it now and then to an annual car-wash.

I am not a soccer mom. I wave at Land Rovers. Indiscriminately. Series, Discos, Rangies, Defenders - they all get the wave.

But perhaps I look like a soccer mom, because everything from a Discovery up mostly doesn't wave back.

On again, off again

And it's back to off again. Off the road, that is.

I spent most of this past week "replacing the head gasket" - which, oddly enough, was in very good condition still. Gave the innards a good clean, put it all back together according to the manual - and then the trouble started.

First, both batteries decided they didn't have anough vooma to start her. So we tow-started. Or attempted to. Favourite Man finally got her going, only to have a stream of oil pour out the back of the engine. Back to the yard, tighten the banjo bolt, try again. Worse! And an extra leak at the front of the head too...

What came out wasn't the nice clean oil I put in - but some horrible mucky stuff that was still circulating the system. She left a huge trail of it all around our complex, which I still need to take a few truckloads of engine cleaner to...


And she sounded as if all hell was breaking loose in the engine bay.

There is nothing to it. It seems that cleaning up her head got rid of the soot that was holding the head together, and it's warped. So I spent the latter part of the week taking it all apart again. The head goes off to an engineer in the new week.

And Olivia, with only half an engine left under her bonnet, gets to stand once more until it's sorted out.

While she's stationery, I'll be checking a few other things as recommended by the experts. I don't know how long this is going to take, it just has to be sorted out properly.

Eish.

Seriously considering buying a horse, putting it in the engine bay, attaching a carrot to the bumper and going for one-horse-power mode...

Landy Wave Monthly

The September issue of Landy Wave Monthly is online here.


Find the previous issues at our website.

Hybrid

It's been an absolute age since I updated this blog, but Olivia's been very busy. She's the workhorse that makes it up mountains to sort out high sites, the loader of e-waste, and transporter of large things like ladders.


All this with a sick mind. Or rather a problem with her head - gasket. She's taken to drinking oil along with her horrific petrol habit, then spewing oil and water out when she starts in a huge patch behind her exhaust pipe. The water level drops dramatically in a short trip, steam pours from the exhaust at times, and the oil filler cap has a nice coating of mayo. All indicators that there's a gasket replacement coming up as soon as I have a few days free to do so.


It's a measure of her ability to keep going that she's still trundling up the mountain and to Cape Town and around town. Granted, not smoothly, but going still.

Today she nearly had a major mishap. It rained overnight and was still drizzling when Favourite Man and I headed up the slopes once more. With her big mud-ready G90s, awesome torque and a steady slow speed, we were going well. Until we hit a dangerous corner with the middle of the road washed out. The soil on that mountain is clay - and her rear end started sliding out toward a very steep slope straight down. I managed to wrestle her back just in time. Coming down was even worse - we slid and slipped sideways and forward, way too close to the edge for anyone's comfort. And by the time we reached the bottom the gears in low ratio were sounding terrible. Favourite Man drove her later, but promptly turned back when the gears in high started sounding just as bad. Tomorrow sees me under her adding greases and oils liberally all over. All that dust has made things squeak and groan.

And then there's the hybrid thing.

Olivia has two batteries - an engine bay one to keep the essentials of forward motion going, and a large one (original to my ownership of her) as secondary for the peripherals. Well Olivia has decided that she'd rather be a hybrid. The front battery is now far from optimal, wears down in a day or two and doesn't recharge - she now does what some really fancy cars do, and gets plugged in to the C-Tek charger at night to feed off electricity! Meaning we can at least start her on one of the batteries come morning.

And then there's the electric gate that opened randomly and smashed two of the rear lights and surrounding protective cage as I was reversing...

The poor girl really needs a few weeks at the spa getting all her issues seen to. Unfortunately I don't have a few weeks to spare, but I'm determined to sort them out one by one. Starting tomorrow morning with the oily, greasy things and moving on from there.

Truth be told, I'm looking forward to getting down and dirty again - as long as I don't get rained on.



PS There's a new Landy Mag going around online... yours truly is now an e-editor! :-)

Photoblog: Working Girl

I can see clearly now..

It's been a while since I updated Olivia's blog. Here's the latest.

Today, while the rest of the country was lazing around with Freedom Day, Favourite Man and I put in a bit of work on Olivia. We sorted out new engine mounts with a bit of difficulty - one needed some engineering as only Favourite Man can do, but turned out perfect with an excellent fit all round. We attacked the final electrics work, inserted the lights into her new wing, and added the light guard.

Everything's working perfectly. Yay!



Tomorrow she's off to get her radiator seen to. Then it's full steam ahead and hitting the road once more.

Yay again!

(Dreading dealing with her drinking habit... must get engine tuned properly...)

----

I never did finish the tale of woe re the brakes blokes. We eventually got her back after nearly 2 weeks - only to find that brake fluid was streaming down behind the accelorator, eating away at the protective coating we'd applied in the footwell. Unfortunately she was required for work and we didn't have time to go back and beat people up over that - sometimes the effort to sort something out just seems too much, and not worth it. But she does have brakes that work well now. Which, on a Series Landy, is a very good thing.

Horn

Olivia has a new accessory! :-)

It will soon be supporting a couple of long bits of metal on a trip up to our high site. That front receiver is a very useful bit of kit indeed.

Slamming on Brakes

I'm really worried about Olivia.

In July last year Favourite Man took his Discovery II to Ferobrake around the corner from us in Strand to have the discs skimmed prior to fitting new shoes. When he arrived at the appointed day and time, he was told the mechanic was sick and he'd have to go to their branch in Cape Town. Which he did. Only to be turned away for some arb reason.

After Olivia's altercation with a lamp pole, we decided to have the brakes redone while we were killing time waiting for various other things to fall in place. Favourite Man contacted Ferobrake Strand and - you guessed it - was told the mechanic is sick, we can't bring the truck down.

Last week we called and made an appointment for Olivia to have her brakes done. Before we dropped her off, we popped in to make sure - and yup, we were booked in.

So we went the few metres down the road to where she was having a radiator redo, and fetched her.

When we arrived at Ferobrake - you guessed it - the mechanic had gone home sick and the rest of the "workers" were standing around twiddling their thumbs, picking their noses and scratching their gonads, waiting for (apparently) the only mechanic Ferrobrake possesses to turn up and tell them what to do.

Olivia has now been there for a week. Favourite Man has just phoned them to find out when our darling girl can be returned to the fold.

You guessed it - the mechanic is sick. ETA for finishing completely unknown. Should the mechanic die of his many illnesses, it's likely Olivia will stay there for the rest of her life...

Unless I take my largest wheelspanner and go knock someone over the head very very hard.

Step 1

Olivia's new / replacement fender has arrived. Complete with ex-army light bits. Nope, we're not going to leave it that colour - but work starts soon!

Love/Hate

Life with Land Rovers is very much a love/hate relationship.

When they're going well we love them to bits. When they're giving problems we want to kick their tyres and take a hammer to the offending parts.

Actually... the word "relationship" is kinda the root of the problem. We start to see these hunks of metal as "people".

Take Olivia for example. She's my girl, part of the family, and yup - the truck is a "she". When I slam my hand in the door it's "Olivia's way of reminding you she loves you". When something breaks "Olivia's being kak / moody / obstinate". She's taken on human characteristics for her mechanical quirks - and there's been an emotional investment from before she was officially mine.

But not all Landy drivers feel that way about their vehicles.

This morning on the way to work I passed another Series III. Usually us Series folk wave madly to each other, and we'll even wave at Discos - this bloke (and I've seen him often around town) just drives and ignores no matter what we're driving. I'm probably making snap judgements, but it seems his Land Rover is merely a tool, a vehicle to get from A to B that does what he wants it to do. There's no enthusiasm for the old beast, nor for other old beast drivers.

By contrast, I got a wave out of a fellow Discovery owner a few metres later...

And now I've gone off topic, but here's the thing. Lately I've been struggling with the love/hate balance vs Olivia. I'm really not lus for the hassles that await us as we fix her up post-lamppole-greeting experience. I know it's going to be a knock-on thing where we breadcrumb from one issue to the next - and we've been there, done that for many months last year as she was fixed up front to back. I've had some big anti-Landy moments in the last week or so.

But at the same time I still love my Landies. And Olivia particularly, which is why I'm going to be doing what it takes to get her not only back on the road but better than ever before. She's still my girl, part of the family, and in spite of the occasional love/hate battle it does lean a whole lot more toward love than hate.

Getting there

After Olivia's minor altercation with a lamppost thanks to horrific driving on the part of an old tannie who crossed her path (literally), the red-tape battle began. There was not a whole lot of real damage - not a single light broke in the accident - yet insurance wanted to write her off, stating that repair costs far exceeded the value of the vehicle. Well Favourite Man was able to cut that bill in half or more by speaking to the right people and getting the correct info on exactly how much it will cost to repair what needs it. And insurance has agreed not to write Olivia off.

Sjoe. After all the hard work we've put into that beast, it's a very big relief.

Now the repair work starts. Another learning curve, another little while off the road.

But we're getting there.

For the Record...

...I miss my Olivia.

She's still sitting quietly at the panelbeater. I'm still waiting for word from insurance. I know she hasn't moved, as I've geofenced the area and told her Protector unit to SMS me if she starts/moves/leaves/enters/stops in that area. Her battery is still fine, as is the unit's - so I can keep an eye on her.

But I miss her.

Oh Crap

Shake, Rattle, Roll

Roughly once a week I take a trip down a very bad road to drop off some stuff. They're fixing the road, but this is Africa - in the months that I've been doing this, they've done about 500 metres of road and are now 100 metres away from my destination. On the other side of it. Which means I still get to travel the dodgy road.

It is, quite frankly, the worst tar road I've been on. It starts out well except for an occasional sunken trench. But then it deteriorates into 1km of hell. I can see my destination from the start of the worst section - but getting there... Potholes, canyons, random uneven bits. I have to take it very slowly and aim carefully - but I still end up feeling like I've been through a tumble dryer every time with my insides shaken to jello.

A few weeks ago I had some breakables in the back - old stuff, not necessary to reach the end of the road in one piece, but preferable that they do. Two minutes into that stretch I heard a loud crack, just as I hit a hidden hole. Oops.

Two weeks ago I not only had to dodge holes, but a run-away cow too, udders swinging as she made her escape across the road into the orchard beyond.

Last week it was a fleet of small horses trying to test Olivia's bumper...

Sjoe.

And every week without fail it takes the entire trip home for Olivia to start feeling normal again. The springs creak, the gears feel funny, there are extra rattles and I'm convinced the engine is about to drop off it's moorings.

Fortunately Pedders handed her a set of new shocks and a steering damper a few months ago. It's made a HUGE difference to the ride, smoothing it out and making general travel quite comfortable. I'd hate to think what that road would do to our kidneys without them.

Still, I really hope the roadworks guys pull finger and get a move on soon. Traveling that stretch is starting to take its toll on the both of us.

Eish

I know I'm the eternal optimist, but sometimes I take it way too far.

Like the last post here about Olivia's wonderful fuel consumption. I've been down that road before, and should have known better. The chick is a serious heavy drinker and no amount of rehab is going to cure that it seems!

The wonderful fuel consumption led to a sudden dying - yup, tank empty, fuel gauge sticking. And then it happened again, when we thought we had a quarter tank. Fortunately it was just outside the gate and my very strong Favourite Man pushed all 2 tons of Landy (and extra one ton of chick in driver's seat) through the gate and into the parking lot.

Thus it was that we started to travel with R50 of petrol in a jerrycan behind the seat.

Last weekend it was time to attack the carb again, so I hauled it out, sorted out any gasket renewals, checked float levels and o-rings, put it back in - and then the beast refused to start. All day. Meantime Favourite Man had been fiddling in the dash with wiring, fixing stuff there and rewiring the heater to the back battery, then tackling the distributor to check points gaps. When Olivia got snarky about starting, both of us dived in to check our work!

Unfortunately it ended up to be my fault - I'd over-filled the dash pot and there was too much pressure for the moving parts of the carb to lift and let fuel in. Once fixed, she started right away.

But the thing with carbs is that once they're out, then in - they need tuning. And after a week of fiddling with mix and idle speed I suspect I still don't have it right. First she was running so rich that I used up R140 worth of fuel to go 50km. And ran out as she went up the last steep hill (see "always carry jerrycan with R50 worth behind driver's seat"). Then the mix was so weak she had no power. But the fuel consumption was better. So I set it richer again. And then decided it was too rich - set it down, and she wouldn't start.

Eish. Eish indeed.

Fortunately it appears Favourite Man may have found an Expert who knows about such things. We're trying to organize a meet-up so that, once and for all, I learn how to work with the Zenith Stromberg carb. And get Olivia running spot-on.

Before I have to threaten her with a heart transplant again...