It started quite innocuously as I drove out of our local Tesco’s car park and, as I had a thousand times before, drove over a small patch of cobblestones. Why they were even there I know not but immediately after crossing them the car went wild.
The rev counter shot up to over 3,000 even though I was only at about 10 mph. The car wouldn’t go faster than 30 mph as I tried to drive it the short distance back home.
When I finally made it back to the house I soon discovered that the gears wouldn’t even change. Ho hum.
So, a call to my regular Mercedes trained mechanic and his subsequent inspection ascertained that something called a gear selector module had failed and must needs be replaced. So, the dreaded moment approached – time to visit a main dealer as the part had to be individually coded to the car.
And lo, the service director was persuaded to order the part from Germany and fit it whence it arrived.
And arrive it did well after Christmas and the New Year had passed by.
And the part was duly fitted with no more than the usual delay.
The service director rang me with the news. But then he added “It hasn’t cured the problem though. We reckon the gearbox is not connecting with the gear selector. Probably some swarf in there given the age of the car. New gear box perhaps or it might just get cleared out if we can remove the gear box”.
I said “I’ll give it some thought and let you know”.
Back home and a quick call to an old client in the car parts business elicited confirmation that he could collect the car and dispose of its parts.
So, off to the iPad and Autotrader, Guru, Motorway, and assorted used vehicles sites, countrywide.
The first car I eventually found was a no-no for various reasons spotted by my long time mechanic and a serious lack of necessary paperwork, so back to the grind.
In the end it was Guru set me on the path of what could be a suitable choice.
It looked fine on paper with all I wanted or needed and the photos looked good.
So, off to darkest Petersfield for a look.
Very pleasant salesman was awaiting our arrival, booked the day before, and there was the car. It looked just like the photos, which was encouraging, so we spent some time going over it in detail.
Our salesman was fully clued with the necessary paperwork and the entire process He even understood the machinations of the DVLA where my personal number plate was concerned.
Despite the pouring rain the car looked fine, the paperwork seemed to be as is should be and the salesman had answered all my queries.
Then it slowly dawned me. All was in apparent order. There the car sat. Waiting.
The die was cast – me, a Libran, was required to make a decision. Me! Mr Uncertain.
So I did.
Foootsoldier Says… 