151 DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL...

Hot on the heels of the dashboard in 'Bert' doing an impression of Blackpool Illuminations, Abbie decided to join the party with a light of her own after a trip down a particularly bumpy road.

Over the weekend, we went to our friend's 50th birthday party. They live in an idyllic hamlet up in Lancashire, about 30 minutes away. We were running a little late, so I used Google Maps to give me the quickest possible route to their house. Next time, I'll study the route before blindly accepting it.

The app decided the direct route was my best bet, so it took us cross-country along some A roads with a short blast along a dual carriageway. At this point, I was loving hooning around country roads in the little Abarth, darting around corners, blasting out of bends, and generally driving like a teenager. Then I was asked to turn onto a road I didn't recognise, and that is where all enjoyment ended.  

The road narrowed significantly, but we joked that we were used to single-track driving after doing the NC500 in a motorhome a few years ago. What I wasn't used to was driving down what was effectively a farm track in a car with low-profile tyres and stiffened, lowered suspension. All the stuff that had made darting around corners so exhilarating earlier was now causing my body to ache.

Every pothole we went down, compressed pile of what I can only guess was dung we bounced over, and rut we tramlined along was transferred from the road, through the steering and suspension and directly into my spine and teeth. It was excruciating. 

Just when I thought the drive couldn't get any worse, an elderly driver in a Dacia Duster appeared in front of us, moving at a leisurely 20 mph. To be honest, it was a blessing in diguise. This local, familiar with the road, became my unintentional guide, helping me navigate the treacherous track without ripping the chin spoiler off the car.

Eventually, we made it back out onto the main road, where the surface was much better and all was good...except for an orange light that appeared on my dashboard. Hmmm. The symbol was vague enough not to be anything obvious. Still, I knew I'd need to check it out (after the party, obviously).

We arrived at the house, and as I parked up, I noticed the light had gone off. I assumed that the rattling had jarred something loose which had fixed itself once the punishment ended.  

The next day, I checked what the light indicated, and it had something to do with the braking system. Either the ABS doesn't like getting knocked about, or my pads are starting to wear and need replacing. If it is the former, Abbie may need open car surgery; the latter is a job already on my list.

If I'm replacing the pads and discs, I might ask them to fit my bright red callipers while they are there. In for a penny and all that...although the cost of dismantling the braking system will cost a lot more than a penny, I'd wager.