It’s Thursday, the rally starts in Melbourne in two days.

Started bright and early on the South Coast having made it safely from Sydney. Feeling smug. Car driving well enough. Some of the doors don’t open, the clutch is smooshy, first gear is pretty elusive and there are strangeish quirks with the locks, but in general things are looking bright.

We purchased Simply Red Greatest Hits and Love Songs 70s, 80s and 90s on CD from the Braidwood Vinnies, found a roof rack and installed it poorly, then purchased the incorrect tie-down strap for the spare tyre but it seems stable enough. Fashioned some flag poles from PVC piping and bought an over-spec’d esky and hundreds of cable ties. Procured five bumper stickers from Milton, Braidwood, Yass, Gundagai and Holbrook.

All day we’d been saying things like ‘woah that clutch doesn’t smell great’ and ‘geez, smell that burning oil? Oh well. That’s what you get for $1500’… and then just around Wadonga, with misplaced hubris, we started congratulating ourselves on our fine preparation and very very foolishly declaring pre-emptive victory. We’ll be in Melbourne in no time!

And very, very shortly thereafter… Oh, we’re slowing down, Fauce said. Oh no, we’re overheating. Oh, yup, the engine has cut-out.

By the time we had rolled to a stop on the shoulder there was alarming smoke/ steam/ smoke stuff billowing aggressively from all sorts of places. We bounced out of the car with our tiny, single use fire extinguisher at the ready. Pointing it this way and that.

After a minute or two, when we were slightly more confident our car was not about to burst into flames, we approached it with caution, like one might a caged tiger. We gingerly popped the hood then looked in. Yup, it looks really hot and smoky and not driving, we confirmed.

So, after eating a banana each, we used the power of a mobile phone and a credit card and before long Rhys from Murphy’s Mechanical and Scrap services in Euroa was with us. He confirmed the engine was really hot and smoky and not driving and then hoisted us and our shitbox onto his truck.

So now we are drinking nice red wine and eating a chicken curry in a lovely country pub in Euroa and wondering what tomorrow might bring us. Rhys has a wide selection of very shitty looking cars in his scrapyard so it may be possible that by lunchtime tomorrow we will be cruising in a very beat up Mercedes, a battered Bedford Wagon or a clapped out Euroa taxi, all of which we spied in his yard.

Stay tuned.