Driving day 27 — homeward bound, the return home

Well, I’m home-home! My home — the place where I live. Not where my parents live. I call that home, too. It can get all very confusing.

180-something miles. 3 and a bit hours. It flew by.

Bertie’s oil warning kept warning me and then not warning me, fickle shit — I got an experienced driver to do my checks this time, and we’re agreed, it’s most likely the sensor. I think, since today it seemed to go off just after dual carriageway roundabouts, when I require power to get back up to 70, that the engine is drawing on the oil because it needs it, whatever is happening, reducing the oil pressure, resulting in:

And then Bertie settles into what’s happening and he’s cool.

Until he’s not but then he is again, and he is for a while until he’s cautioning like a grump unable to be cheered.

I think someone needs to see the car doctor…

Long-way driving

I quite enjoyed both runs, and I really don’t understand my mother’s issue — my back hurts a little touch but that’s because she moved my seat and all the mirrors to sit in it. My back didn’t hurt on the way up and now I’ve got to find that spot again, which will take weeks.

When it comes to the speed of the road, I find other drivers seem to hurry you along. It’s like we’re a pack and we’re keeping up, speeding up reflexively. I wonder if this harks back to our prehistoric days when we used to hunt down mammoths in groups.

I have decided that lorries should not try and pass each other because they haven’t got the oomph, especially when they can barely get up the hill. They should stick to the slow lane and stay there. That can be their lane with buses and Sunday drivers. Everyone’s happy.

To close, a police car led my way into Portsmouth. I felt ever so important going along the M275 until I realised she was going my way to Southsea because did she ever indicate? No. Was she ever in the correct lane? No. Did she straddle them? Yes. I suppose, that ‘yes’ is a positive. I could understand if she had her blue lights going, and her siren — QUICK! GET OUT OF MY WAY! SOMETHING’S GOING DOWN SOMEWHERE! I DON’T KNOW WHERE! — but no, just this rather appalling piece of driving from an officer of the law. The last I saw of her, she was cutting up a bus.

I know, I was just as shocked — the police are always so law abiding.

Tomos James