Away Day Woes (1)

We all had bad away day experiences haven`t we!

Well I thought I`d share one, or two, with you!

The first in what could develop into a series, concerns a trip to Leyton Orient, many moons ago.

I`d just acquired my first car, you know how it is, willing to drive it anywhere but not a clue about the mechanics of such things.

We arrived at Brisbane Road relatively unscathed. True we`d almost missed the motorway exit and had to veer across the dust and debris that covers the white lines, but there`d been no real casualties.

Parking up on a large piece of waste land not too far from the ground, there looked to be a fair few following the Hatters on the road, a smattering of official coaches and a large array of various makes of cars.

Stood on the away terrace, we were wary of any West Ham having decided to infiltrate us, something they used to do on some trips into East London when West Ham weren`t playing.

Time has eroded some of the tale, for a start I can`t recall if we won, lost or drew, but that`s irrelevant for this little piece.

Exiting the ground, we were amongst the throng of Hatter`s supporters heading towards the aforementioned piece of waste lad and soon we were all sat in my vehicle.

Watching others pull away, I turned the key, but although the engine turned over it wouldn`t fire up, much to my travelling companion`s amusement.

Soon that amusement was to change to a worried look, the car par was emptying and soon we were left alone with a row of coaches awaiting a police escort.

Somebody decided that it might start if the other three bodies were to give it a push. Sat behind the steering wheel, I hung on for grim death, let the clutch up when we`d built up a decent pace up and prayed.

The deathly silence was then punctuated by a huge backfire, a noise so loud everybody on the official coaches felt they had to gawp out of their windows at us.

Some kind gentleman got off of one of the coaches and told me to spring the bonnet, do what I asked back.

Lifting the bonnet he diagnosed the problem almost instantly. The clamp securing the distributor had worked loose thereby throwing the timing out. Using his guile he sort of judged where it might best be locked in place, tightened the nut and asked me to try to start it again.

It started first time and everybody on the coach he`d got off gave a huge cheer. By now, a deep crimson red in the face, I climbed back into the car and pulled away.

The moral of this story, as the late Jimmy Saville once preached – Let the train take the strain! (unless you know what lies under the bonnet and how it all works!)