I forgot to report that while we were in Budapest one of the things we wanted to find was a rattle from the rear end (just one of many) that had been worrying us for several days. Jonathan went all round the back end but everything seemed tight and suitably lubricated. We left the workshops with that item still unresolved.
First call after a hot sweaty morning working on the car (Jonathan) and foraging for parts (me) was an ice cream. As Jonathan brushed past the back of the car, there was the clunk. It was only one of the towing shackles mounted on the rear brackets that had got loose. It reminded me of the time I lost my treasured penknife on a Rally, we chased a rattle all round the back of the car and couldn’t resolve that either. Of course the missing penknife was loose under my seat.
I got a report from Xanthe after the Euro 16 final saying Stockwell, where we live in little Portugal, had officially been moved to Tooting. Celebrating cars, with many flags, much hooting, and people hanging out of the windows use our road as a return route to drive the restaurant strip again, and again, and again.
Big stomach meets Tito, young helper and green window in Velejne. The town is only fifty years old and was a showpiece of Tito’s socialism. Jonathan missed the point of framing Tito in the frame. But it was really hot and I was beyond explaining and busy at the time.
We did some tough stages today, sadly Daniel who has the coolest Bentley stuffed his into a tree.
Wee Huff smashed itself up chasing a better position. A proper treeing.