My mum's 1.9D Clio Mk1, that I borrow on a more or less permanent basis, started getting hard to start recently. One day, it wouldn't start at all, so I had to go and get my bicycle for the 6.5m, hilly commute to work. Luckily I'd allowed enough time for that eventuality.
Anyway, turned out that the problem, like it was two years ago, was that the battery had boiled off a load of its electrolyte. 69p for a bottle of de-ionised water from Tescos and a quick charge and it was raring to go again.
After refitting the battery, I thought I'd do a quick check of all the bulbs, since I always get annoyed when I see other drivers tooling about with headlights/ brake lights out etc. Shoved my socket set onto the brake pedal and went round the back for a look- no joy. Checked the bulbs- they were fine. Roused my wife from the sofa to come and have a look while I pressed the brake pedal as hard as I could- still no lights.
O.K., so out with the multimeter. After considerable farting about in the footwell, and with a by now increasingly cold and fractious mrs, I eventually figured out that the brake pedal switch was to blame. By physically pulling the switch further away from the pedal on its mounting I got the brake lights working again perfectly- though it seems to me a totally weird failure- I'll definitely keep an eye on them.
So anyway, a week later, I was tooling home from work at about 10.30pm and looking forward to my dinner. Came round a corner on the one way system 1/4 mile from home and saw a load of flashing lights and hi-vis jackets. Probably an ANPR tax/insurance check I thought- nothing for me to worry about. But no- motioned to pull in. I sat there for about 30 seconds with no-one showing any interest in me. So I got out, and a very fat DVLA man inspected the tax disc and saw that it was fine. He enquired of the fat copper still scanning the traffic why I'd been stopped. "I've pulled this one for a condition check" replied fat copper.
Fair enough- the car is a bit of an old shed. I don't wash it, and it's got a couple of dents where my impatient brother had some parking mishaps. But it's well maintained and legal for three reasons: 1) Aforementioned (and planned for) non-start notwithstanding, I rely on it to get to work; 2) I need my driving licence for my job and 3) As I said, I dislike people who drive around in unsafe cars.
So I lit a fag while I waited for fat copper to deal with me. As far as I'm concerned, if they're going to pull me over arbitrarily, they can breathe my smoke while they keep me waiting. Eventually fatty checked my licence (both parts were in my wallet, naturally) and radio'd for an insurance check, which proved I was one of 5(!) named drivers for the car. I was allowed on my way home.
There are two lessons to learn from this long and rambling tale. Firstly, that we have become such a rich and decadent society that a P-reg Clio is considered a suspicious old banger, and secondly: check your car regularly! Waiting for your next MOT ain't good enough. I daresay I'm preaching to the converted here, but just in case....
Re: the first lesson, I dread to think what sort of grief I'm in for when I finally get my L-reg Peugeot 106 running properly.