Temptation, thrills and flooded lanes...

It’s raining.

A lot.

Which is good

Because we need the rain.

But it’s bad

Because I think I may have to give into temptation and I don’t think that is wise.

The temptation in question is whether or not to drive my car through the seriously big puddles on the lanes.

You know the ones

They stretch for about 20 or 30 yards and fill the lane side to side.

The boys spy them and then get wildly overexcited

“Go on Mum! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!” they chant.

And the temptation is so great

Foot down, second gear and drive straight without stopping, remembering where the lane dips driving on the upside first then the down keeping to the shallowest waters.

Now this was OK when I had Dora Disco the Land Rover and indeed OK when the field drains weren’t working as well as they do now. But with torrents of water spewing from all sides into the lane and flooded as far as the eye can see and suddenly I am not so sure.

Not quite so sure it is a very good idea.

I mean I love the Silver Dream Machine, my Bluemotion Golf Estate but I don’t think it was built for boating.

“It’s too dangerous,” I say. “We will have to wait until the water subsides.”

So I reverse all the way back to the main road and drive the long way to school. The Boys are clearly disappointed. This way is not very exciting. Not thrilling at all.

It’s much more fun to get into school late because you’ve got stranded in the middle of a flood and have to wade your way out.

I feel for them and suddenly understand why my father used to drive across the frozen St John River in Canada when we were stationed there in the early 1970s. He relished terrifying and thrilling the women in his family. Seriously he used to take our Volkswagen car drive off the road and down the banks of the frozen river then drive across it stopping half way to take photographs. I remember waiting for what seemed like hours while he did this scaring myself silly with thoughts of the ice breaking beneath us. He never put us in danger he always knew it was safe, he just didn’t tell us as such. We had to trust him. I was five years old. And now 40 years later I understand why he did it as I thrill and terrify my own five year old.

I will make sure I can drive through but I won’t be telling my boys I have checked it out first – I mean where’s the fun in that!

Review: Skoda - "By gum! It's game!"

I had never been so nervous in all my life as I waited for the bods at Skoda to collect their car. I had gone over it with a toothcomb and as far as I could see I hadn’t done it any damage and it looked nearly as clean as when it arrived – well it should do I’d been washing it down and hoovering it out for what seemed like hours.

I reflected on my week with the Yeti and can honestly say I’ve not had so much fun in a car since Dear Charlie first allowed me behind the wheel of his sports car in 1998.

Oh Wow! I remember that day. He had knocked on my door and led me out of my subterranean hole into the afternoon sunlight one Sunday. And there she sat positively purring on the other side of the road, a sleek sculpted vision that just begged to be touched. I had no idea he’d let me drive but he showed me over and gallantly held the driver’s door open for me to sink into the cream leather sets. She was so new.

I remember feeling terrified and excited at the same time as she drew away from the kerb. The feeling of freedom and trepidation warring with each other as I drove her over Chelsea Bridge and then: then the real fun! Cruising down Kings Road and everyone staring. I had a grin a mile wide and it appeared to me to be infectious, for everyone I looked at, or caught the eye of, seemed to be smiling back – and even then that was a result in London.

And the car I drove that afternoon? Well it was making headlines back then though now possibly people would laugh; it was the Mazda MX-5 NB (the first one without pop-up lights). At the time she was a revelation. I’d like to say she still is for we still own her and at present she’s sitting outside on the drive, still going strong and I’d like to think- especially in the summer – still turning heads!

With a Skoda the last thing you would think was that it turned heads – but it did, not necessarily for looks, more like curiosity. I let my curiosity take wings and I was surprised. In my one week I had determined that I would really put the Yeti through it’s paces school runs, trip to the vet, furniture removal, off-roading, weekly shop, family outing, towing the horsebox, the works.

And the real question was would the Yeti be able to do everything I used to do with my Duchess, Dora the Land Rover Discovery – the car I had had to reluctantly send to the scrap heap only 18 months before?

Let’s just say that for starters, unlike Dora - may she rest in pieces - I didn’t feel like I was driving a tank. In fact it was exactly like driving the Golf but more fun ‘cos it is higher and I could once again peer into everyone’s front rooms and gardens again and more importantly I could see over everyone else’s car to find out why there was a traffic jam. It’s these small things I find I miss so much in an ordinary bulk standard car.

Apart from the drive the most notable difference between the Yeti and Dora was that the Yeti didn’t drink nearly as heavily. In fact I averaged over 40 mpg the whole time even on the school run. Now Dora even on a good day struggled to make 28 mpg on that run!

Now there are many reasons why people have 4x4s and for the moment I will not indulge myself, especially with those who have 4x4s when they live in towns and cities. However, in the countryside a 4x4 really starts to work.

I have livestock that has to be moved around and taken from field to field and a 4x4 is most useful and more convenient that borrowing a neighbour’s old tractor - it’s also warmer and is more often than not fitted out with at least teh most rudimentry in-flight entertainment. Anyway, the most important thing about most 4x4s is that they are large. There’s usually enough room in the back of a Disco to bung a few sheep. In the past I’ve seen up to eight ewes in the back of one and that’s before you slap on a trailer.

And that is where I found my first problem, not in the volume capacity of the Yeti but in its pulling power. Although the engine had no problems, the fact is the Yeti is just too light a vehicle and you could really feel the animals moving around. Braking was scary as I didn't feel 100% confident that the horsebox wouldn't push us on. Admittedly I was trying to pull a large horsebox with a 18 hand hunter in the back – I’m sure we weren’t far short of one and a half tons so quite a big ask for a relatively small 4x4 – but as Eric, a farmer friend of mine in Yorkshire, would have said: “By gum it’s game!” 

(Look out for Part Two - The real problem with the Yeti...)

Lament for a Land Rover

I want to blow up my car preferably with an anti tank missile or some other form of loud ballistic. In my mind’s eye I see her exploding with doors spiralling into the sky, a satisfactory whoomph and puffs of white smoke. It will take place on a gloriously hot clear sunny day. Piercing blue skies in the background, the car alone on the heathery moor.
What could be a more fitting end to a rusted out Land Rover, which has faithfully served my family for some 14 years?
It has been integral to our lives having seen me courted, married and brought back to earth with a loud bump due to impending motherhood. It has been there for the highs and lows. It brought my babies back from hospital, taken us on holidays and visits, brought us back from funerals.
We’ve slept in it, eaten in it, popped champagne corks in it. My son's first ice cream was devoured in it. We’ve been sick in it, hurt in it and even peed in it (well come on the poor boy was only three and Daddy would insist on going on to the next lay-by!)
We boogie in it, shout in it, sing in it and laugh in it. We tell stories to each other, play eye-spy, just shout at each other. Sometimes we just listen. We have full and frank discussions in it – many about it. We argue and we make up in it. My husband tells me he loves me when we are in it.
We’ve done 187,986 miles in it and now its bottom has rusted out and I can’t afford to weld it all together. And that is the point I can’t afford it any longer.
If diesel prices hadn’t risen so fast I might have nursed her through a few more years - in fact I always thought I would. But the cost of getting her through her MOT AND keeping her on the road is just too much to bear- some £6,000 a year and rising.
So the time is near and now it’s the final curtain and I am having problems emotionally letting go of a two-ton hunk of rusting metal. It’s just not in me to see her crushed, she deserves a better send off so I am seeking ways to do just that…and that’s where the tanks come in. The Army I’m sure could do with target practice and I know a man that knows a man who just might be interested - anything but the ignominy of the breakers yard….