Just before reaching the Eurotunnel terminal there came a strange rattling noise from the back of the car. My first thought was "exhaust!" and the second was an even more worrying "wheel!". I got out and checked - they were all present and appeared to be correct. The car had an MOT and full service on 1 July, so I must be imagining problems. Surely it was more likely that the jampot and slow cooker had moved around in my less-than-perfect packing and were rattling against each other. As I drove away the noise had stopped, so I decided to re-pack when I stopped on the other side.
On the RN1 between Boulogne and Abbeville the sound re-commenced. It rapidly worsened as I braked carefully. The steering felt odd. No, the steering felt very bad indeed. The car swerved all over the road, there was a horrible scrunch, a show of sparks worthy of an Ooooh!, and a screeching noise like an angle-grinder in a temper. I watched in horror as the rear left wheel overtook the car and bounded down the hill, bouncing into a wall and disappearing, and fought the steering and brakes to come to a halt as close as possible to the side of the road (and on the road, rather than in the woods).
The first thing to do was call the police. I hadn't quite parked tidily. They asked all sorts of difficult questions, such as what kind of car: of course they didn't recognise "Vauxhall", and I couldn't remember what it is in not-UK. They also wished to know where the car was. I hauled Chariot out and wandered down the road with mobile phone against ear, looking for a roadsign. In the stress I couldn't even remember the word for roadsign to explain what I was doing. They clearly thought I was drunk or daft.
A passing car stopped and the two occupants offered help. The policeman told me to pass the mobile over to them. It didn't help at first because they didn't know exactly where we were, either, but one of them stayed with me and my mobile while the other drove down the road to check. They were wonderful, remaining with me until the police found us (about an hour later). I was glad of their hazard lights when Bloo's battery died while I was up the road, having left on the headlights as well as hazards. To pass the time they searched for the wheel, while I phoned my breakdown insurance company.
Phone calls to various numbers in different countries were entirely without success (in the dark I couldn't find the piece of paper with the correct number and none of the numbers on the booklet connected to anyone able to help), but the gendarmes had ordered a breakdown truck. While waiting, they looked for the wheel. Eventually the breakdown truck arrived. All three gendarmes and the truck driver looked for the wheel.
The car was dragged, shrieking and digging in its heels, onto the truck. I remembered that neither of the bags I'd grabbed out of the back contained my toothbrush so a gendarme climbed up and found it in another bag. The gendarmes had a discussion over what to do with me. At almost 5am and in mild shock, I'd have said yes to a cell, but one of them knew a hotel just down the road: he phoned up and arranged it all. It really was only just down the road, and they escorted me there on foot, got me and Chariot up the steps, picked up the key which had been left on the desk, and then carried Chariot upstairs. I refused to stay in Chariot while they did this, which seemed to offend their macho-ness a little but I'm sure they were secretly relieved. They came in to check that the room was ok, and moved furniture around to make it more accessible. They were marvellous. Such a shame I didn't find out who they were or even which gendarmerie, because they should be thanked properly. I'll have to ask the breakdown chap.
More by luck than anything else, my two bags contained toothpaste and clothes and debit card in addition to the mandatory random and unnecessary items (and the laptop, but that wasn't luck - of course I'd picked up the laptop bag). I'd remembered to hang on to the breakdown service booklet and to pick up the car information. However, I hadn't collected a hairbrush. That's going to hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment