Friction Burn Friday.

Ok, so it's taken us a while to leave Spain. We've chugged and struggled, checked water and leant forward uphill.

On Friday we knew the day had dawned. It was Adiós Espana, Bonjour La France! We set off, it promised to be a hot day and we had kilometres to travel.  We decided to use the motorway,  on account of the fact that we needed to get to a friend's.

We thought we'd stop of close to the border and buy some goodies. Lady R picked out La Jonquera, a mere six kms from France. As we pulled off the motorway we noticed the temperature gauge wobble over 90. Uh oh, danger territory. Yeah,  you guessed it... We conked.

In the heat and with the stress of it we did what we knew best. I went shopping. Lady R made lunch. We ate morosely, shame as lunch was her delicious pear and roquefort salad.

If you remember it was only last Friday that Fif lost the will to live,  had she decided on a regular weekly strike??

Using my rudimentary Spanish (in which now I am almost fluent in mechanical terms) I approached the cops and asked for help. Was there a mechanico aqui? Turns out there was. Off we trundled. In pigeon Spanish with his pigeon English we 'discussed' the problema. Joe was very helpful. The Lady R, in her friendly way, interrogated him. Turns out (halle-bloody-luiah) that Joe is from Morrocco. He speaks French!  Hoorah. Two hours and €90 later and we know this:

The pipe which mechanic no1 had told us to keep an eye on, had been further degraded due to expansion caused by hot water whizzing through it and subsequent rubbing on neighbouring pipe.

Bloody friction Burns.

Once sorted we were off! Again! Hit France. And phew.