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Monday, 25 June 2012
You're all probably expecting a nice post on how everything was tough but ended well in the end and how beautiful it feels to be in Ireland "hands on", posing the first stone of my new life.
Well, it's not what you are about to read...
The past 2 days have to be listed in the short list of the worst days of my life.
I left on Friday night. All seemed to go well but after 60 or 70 miles the van started to gasp and bounce. WTF. The problem came and went.
I decided to go on, after all I had a ferry to get on and "He who dares, wins".
Around Imola, I realize one of the tires is loosing pressure. Not a big issue but it adds up. I stop a couple of times to check it. When I start again after the second stop, just when I was about to shift in the 5th gear, the van dies. And I mean it DIED.
There I am, at 10 pm, in the darkness, in the middle of the motorway, 30 degrees Celsius, sweating like a fountain, the van fully loaded with my motorbike and even my dog... and the van refuses to start again.
It is soon clear that it won't start ever again.
It is the first time in my life I am let down by my vehicle.
It is deeply unpleasant.
Sweet Chiara gives me the Italian AAA number. I can't really give them my position, it's dark, I don't have a gps, I can't read the road km signs. They put me on hold. In the meantime the police arrives. I'm still on hold, I gesture to them but they keep shouting "PREGO" from their loudspeakers. I explain, half naked and covered in sweat, that my van died. They look at me with a mix of sufficiency and pity, and give me my exact position: Km 0+600, A14, north.
The recovery guy comes shortly after. He is super nice but wants to charge me 260 instead of the 130 they told me on the phone. He says the van is more than 25 tonnes.
He drops me out of the motorway, in front of a garage that will be open the next morning, a Saturday.
After much debating and phoning to some people that might have an answer to the weight conundrum, he agrees that my van is in fact below 25 tonnes and charges me "ONLY" 130 euro.
I sleep, I try to sleep. Peps is very hot and keeps panting, at least there are no mosquitoes. But there's plenty of prostitutes hanging around.
In the morning the mechanic comes, he manages to start the van again with some magic spray but says that I should wait for the guy for the electrical diagnosis. I wait and wait.
In the meantime Chiara is coming to pick me up. To me, it is pretty clear that the problem won't be fixed on a Saturday, we are in Italy after all.
He comes, in double, they are two huge twins, I can't pick who is who. They tell me to follow them, I do but have to leave poor Peps behind in his crate at mechanic's number one.
After much diagnosing... he suggests I change the fuel pressure thingy. He has a second hand one from an engine sitting there. He also fixes my tire. At this point we take a long test drive, very long, the van is cool as a cucumber. Another 120 euro. Excellent -I think to myself - now I only need to get money because half of my budget has vanished in the past 12 hours.
My brother does what I request and I am fit to race again.
I tell Chiara to turn around. Her help is not needed any more and I WILL FUCKING MAKE IT TO IRELAND!
I remember to get Peps.
What a fool. After a short while the van issue comes up again. WTF again.
Luckily I am not on the motorway yet, because there you can only be rescued by the expensive AA guys who will drop you again to the next mechanic. I can see from where I am that the motorway in the "home" direction is completely and utterly congested, all cars are still.
What to do? After much driving around in circles with the van gasping and threatening to die again any moment, I decide to try and make it home through secondary roads, driving VERY SLOWLY.
6 hours later I complete a 300 km return trip to home, at an average temperature of 34 degrees. The son of a bitch runs as smooth as a baby's bottom for the last 150 km. For all that time Chiara keeps waiting in Senigallia because after all I might break down again. Luckily she is at friend's and has a nice day out.
So here I am, back at square one, as I was just hinting from the title. Peps is still recovering. Ferry to be rescheduled. Van to be totally unloaded and thoroughly checked.
But don't you worry, difficulties like these make me even more determined.
Updates to come.
Friday, 15 June 2012
I know, not much in common between the great Gorgonzola cheese and the clutch issues by which Opel Vivaros seem to be riddled.
But it is actually because of the failing clutch of my Opel Vivaro that I am able to post this pictures of my last creation...
You see, dear readers, I'm actually about to leave for Ireland, this time almost for good. The ferry I had to take with my Vivaro van was scheduled on the 20th and I was supposed to leave on monday. But the clutch failed and the part needed didn't come in on time. I had to postpone the ticket a few days. This has meant that I am not panicking like a little kid on the day of his dentist appointment and I can unveil what I think is my second best creation ever (out of two, clearly).
I followed the recipe in the video and the cheese I got is definitely good. The only thing I have to suggest is that you go easy on the salt (original recipe is for 15 liters but I doubt anyone of you will try this with more than 5) and, above all, when you make the holes, don't use toothpicks, they are too thin, use something thicker. Without thick enough holes the molds won't be able to penetrate and grow because of the lack of oxygen.
Now, keep your fingers crossed for my trip. I wish I had more time to keep you updated about things in tha last weeks but it's been way too busy. Ciao for now!