MEMORABLE
VAN AND TRAILER TRIP --- SEPT 2008
This is the follow up story to
“Digby Locked us out”!
Background
My episode
with a snapped Achilles tendon in February accelerated my retirement
with the horses; it also held up any travel to France.
The 14
weeks with plaster and inflatable boots; all the time using elbow
crutches
had been
thoroughly frustrating!!
Then even
when free of encumbrances, no driving, no cycling etc etc. for even
more time!
Consequently,
I could not get any of my usual lorry driving work during the pea
harvest season in June / July. The leg was not fit enough for every
day driving.
Eventually,
the first trip to France with (03) Citroen relay van and trailer was
in June with Sister Jane driving as I had not yet been cleared by the
hospital.
Second
trip with van and trailer was at the beginning of September.
This was
actually the fourth large trailer journey to our new French home.
The first
two had been with the horse centre 3.5 ton twin axle low loader
pulled by Ruth’s elderly VW Passat estate car.
Journey
one with the new (second hand) furniture, cooker etc all carefully
wrapped in canvas sheeting had been four years earlier and coincided
with finally purchasing the house.
The second
had been a few months later with a load of useful wood and metal,
other bits and pieces, plus horse manure, underneath the Ferguson
tractor which I had persuade Ruth would be invaluable in its new home
lifting and moving things too heavy for me on my own.
That
Ferguson trip had nearly ended our marriage.
The total
load was quite heavy and would not make it up that steep ramp onto
the boat at Portsmouth. Half way up, the car decided it had had
enough and I had to push Ruth out of the car and hold the whole load
on the foot brake while she ran off to find the deck officer and his
whole deck crew of able bodied men to push the car and trailer the
rest of the way.
Ruth would
not let me forget this incident; especially when on arriving at our
new home, Roger who had sold us the house took more interest in the
tractor than he did in her. The fact that he had spent his working
life repairing tractors made no difference.
All these
incidents meant that our “trailer journeys” had earned some
notoriety!
Every time
we left, Terena and Geoff asked if “I had not got room for just
something else. Was I sure I had not left some small space unused
somewhere?”
So this
was trailer journey four and the second with the Citroen Relay, its
doggy and perhaps “dodgy” passengers and twin axle “Blue Line”
all galvanised, long, 3.5 ton heavy duty trailer I had purchased
second-hand, on eBay, in February, to complete our move to France.
Calamity
We were
almost half way to Portsmouth and began negotiating the ring road
around Northampton. At one particular spot this involves a difficult
steep hill - approach to traffic lights on a large round - about
system involving six roads and a flyover.
We tried
to crawl up the hill to the lights and hope they would change before
we had to stop. I really did not fancy a hill start with the van
fully loaded and trailer behind resembling “Noah’s ark” in a
panic!
It was not
to be and we ended up behind a very slow car and caravan.
They were
even slower on the hill start than me; frustration took a hand and I
decided to change gear to pass while I had more “urge” than the
caravan.
There was
an unpleasant shriek and judder from our gearbox, what we found out
later to be caused by several fingers from the clutch cover plate
breaking off and jamming themselves between the flywheel and clutch
driven plate.
We were
about 100 miles from our old home in Lincolnshire and 120 miles from
the ferry at Portsmouth.
The smell
of burning clutch and this high pitched squeal told me something had
gone severely awry.
What to do
next?
Ruth was
beginning to realise that things were not all as they should be. My
mind was topsy turvey with what to do next. Seconds ticked by and we
were still going forward, now on a straight, flat piece of road.
The clutch
was still working. We came to some more traffic lights, changed down
a gear, round another island and we were going downhill.
This gave
me chance to test the working movements.
Clutch
pedal was ok and had free movement so I tried a couple of quick jabs.
Within a
matter of moments it seemed, the smell was clearing and the constant
squeal was stopped.
At the
same time as trying to assess the clutch situation and make split
second decisions, I was trying to reassuring Ruth that all was not
lost.
She could
see huge complications with missing the ferry. Especially with three
dogs in the van, surrounded by masses of furniture and other bits and
pieces.
The
trailer was carrying sufficient wood to build extra flooring above
the caravan stored in our big shed beside the house there in France.
The storage was badly needed to contain the overflow of books and
furniture.
Basically
the difference between the four bedroom house in UK and our far
smaller, two bedroom bungalow type “new” home in France.
More
minutes passed and to my complete surprise we were still going. By
the time we had passed under the M1, I had managed to persuade Ruth
that although everything was not as it should be, we were still on
course for Portsmouth.
In the
moments after the smell died away I had decided to go on. There
seemed no point in turning round for home, loosing the ferry booking
and far worse encuring Ruth’s wrath; when we could just as well
keep going in the direction we preferred. Particularly as we had now
completed almost half the journey and the worst half at that.
Ahead of
us was about 140 miles of dual carriageway with far fewer gear
changes. We had a chance.
There was
still a constant whining from the clutch but not loud. Nothing like
we had encountered back at Northampton.
We made it
to the half way coffee stop just before the M40.
Keeping
Calm
By now
Ruth had begun using the herbal remedy she mixed up to calm the dogs
on this journey, on herself!
It worked
though; her constant worry about not arriving at Portsmouth in time
to catch the boat was now under control. In fact we were only about
15 minutes behind our normal journey time.
Leaving
the M40 to join the A34 brought us up another incline to more traffic
lights. This time luck was with us and we forged on. Not exactly
smoothly, but in the right direction and with sufficient speed to
keep us on schedule.
We made it
to Portsmouth with a grinding, whining each time the clutch operated!
But it did
work even if protesting.
On to the
ferry and six hours rest and sleep. Boy, did I need that rest!
In
France at last
Six hours
later, we were off the ferry and negotiating the ring road around
Caen.
More
round-abouts, slip roads and flyovers, but very little traffic as it
was by now 10pm.
We had to
negotiate about 100 miles of winding country roads now, until the
motorway began at Alencon. Lots of gear changes which could not be
avoided.
The noises
each time became more of a protest and confirmed to us that the
motorway was our only option for the final 100 miles.
Ruth began
asking awkward questions. “What happens if the clutch stops
working? Can it break completely?” She was obviously very worried
and needed my reassurance.
I worked
hard concentrating on changing gear as gently as possible and at the
same time explaining to her the workings of the clutch and what was
happening or rather what I thought was happening beneath our feet.
We came to
Argenton and to save a few miles worked our way through the town
centre rather than the longer winding ring road.
By now the
motorway could not come soon enough.
Everything
was quite normal and performing well except for the clutch.
Even the
weather was in our favour. It was a clear night, no fog and no rain.
The sky was full of stars and the moon gleamed down from just ahead
as if showing us the way.
I was
confident from the way the van was running that even if the clutch
stopped working we would still be able to keep going.
Actually
changing gear would present problems, but we should manage to proceed
in the direction we most desired.
Finally
locked up
We
eventually arrived at the motorway barrier at Alencon to collect our
ticket. Just 100 miles to go.
With
ticket safe in hand I pressed in the clutch pedal to select first
gear and surprise, surprise, no clutch.
The whole
thing had locked up solid.
It had
lasted just long enough to get onto the straight clear road with no
interruptions. We just had to get on it!
Fortunately
the Citroen Relay van has a very low first gear. We first realised
this when Jane took us up the hugely steep ramp at Portsmouth into
the boat in June. The van had sailed up effortlessly, complete with
trailer load of wood and my car.
Now we
needed that particular characteristic to help us again. I lowered the
engine revs a much as I could and forced the gear lever into first
position.
It worked;
with just a slight crunch and a jerk we were on our way again.
All I had
to do was match engine speed with gearbox revolutions and the gears
changed relatively smoothly.
In the
“good old days”, before all gearboxes had synchromesh on all
gears,
this
method of driving was not unusual. With a non synchro gearbox, you
had to depress the clutch twice for each change. Once for out of gear
and once again for into the next. If you matched the engine speed
with a quick blip of the throttle you could select your next gear
without a clutch at all. With practice.
Now the
fact that I was getting “grey and wrinkly” and been driving all
kinds of vehicles for over 48 years was paying off!
We had to
negotiate two motorway links on the journey, which meant changing
down a gear each time. Luck was certainly with us, and so was that
constant whine.
On
removing the gear box later in the week we found that the whine was
actually what was left of the clutch cover plate and its remaining
fingers chewing away at the clutch actuator lever at the very back of
the gearbox. The thing that moves backwards and forwards making the
clutch engage and disengage.
When we
took it out there was very little of this left. There was no clutch
thrust bearing at all; just a few ball bearings rattling around in
the bell housing behind the gearbox.
The clutch
driven plate itself, the thing that moves in and out to allow gear
changes, was not in bad condition except for huge chunks ripped out
of its facing by the fingers from the back plate.
Inside the
clutch housing, the actuator lever moves forward and pushes a
revolving bearing onto the back plate where a circle of sprung
fingers then disengage the driven plate from the flywheel which is
fastened to the back of the engine.
What had
happened was three of those sprung fingers had snapped off and flown
though between the driven plate and flywheel fortunately not damaging
it.
The
revolving bearing had jammed into the remaining fingers and gradually
chewed itself to tiny pieces. This was the beginning of the whining.
At
Alencon, this had disintegrated completely and stopped forward and
backward movement of the actuator lever.
The
last lap
Back on
the motorway it was by now 2.45 am and we approached the pay kiosk at
Vivy; just seven miles from our new home at Varennes sur Loire.
One last
crunch and lurch and off again on the very last lap!
More
slowly this time as we were back on country roads. Careful gear
changes now so as not to spoil our luck.
We finally
pulled into the courtyard outside our new home at 3.15 am.
All
totally exhausted mentally and physically except the dogs who had
behaved perfectly and now were overjoyed to be home.
A
deadline
Replacing
the clutch, was the first time I had worked on a front wheel drive!
What a
pain. From the very beginning it was difficult.
Things
that should have been loose were tight and things that should have
been accessible were certainly not!
Neighbour
Mike who runs a B and B with wife Tracey was marvellous.
Without
his strength and encouragement I could not have completed the job.
I had a
deadline. The van was booked onto a ferry back to the UK the very
next week. I was going on my own this time to collect another load of
“property” and bring Sister Jane and her husband David back with
me for a short break.
I had
found clutch replacement kits on UK eBay for about £120 but could
just not run the risk of them not being perfectly, exactly what I
needed and having to change them. There just was not the time.
I sourced
the bits in Saumur but the price was just short of 300 Euros! This
included five gallons of gear oil and 25% discount obtained for me by
a retired Belgian mechanic friend at Montsoreau who has a sailing
boat.
I also
needed a tool to remove the bottom ball joint on the suspension.
Something you do not need very often but had given some thought to
buying from time to time in the UK. I wish I had; as what would have
cost me about £15 in UK cost me 40 Euros in Saumur!
Big
discount motor accessory shops do not exist here.
Re
assembling the clutch was quite simple. Too simple I thought. Things
seem so flimsy today compared with the 1960’s.
Perhaps it
was the fact that the last clutch I had done was just last year and
in the horse centre 7.5 ton Leyland lorry that needed a JCB digger
to lift and help locate the gearbox.
Three
days on my back
Back with
the Citroen van, the worst part was trying to get the right hand
drive shaft into the gearbox at same time as the clutch spline. It
took me a whole day to do just that!
Unlike a
simple vehicle with rear wheel drive; the transverse, front wheel
drive engines have a differential (the system that allows both driven
wheel to turn independently) fastened onto the gearbox, thereby
doubling its weight.
The rear
wheel drive has its differential in the back axle.
The day I
was struggling to line up these two shafts on different sides of the
gearbox, into different splines, all at the same time, I telephone
David to explain how I was progressing, or not!
He
explained that his good friend Tony in Lincoln worked on vans all day
every
day.
Perhaps it was worth giving him a call.
I caught
Tony home for lunch.
He was
quite surprised that I had not dropped the whole front axle from the
vehicle as that is they way he does it to improve access.
He was
even more surprised that I had got the gearbox out and in again
without doing this.
Perhaps it
was because I had been crawling around on by back in the sand of my
“workshop” floor with the van just inches above my nose. The
gearbox had been lowered and raised on a trolley jack running on
plywood sheeting allowing just sufficient room to clear the bottom of
the van.
There was
no alternative he confirmed. If I did not want to remove the whole of
the right hand suspension I would just have to continue jiggling and
pushing until the two things came together.
Eventually
they did. But lesson learned; next time I will take the thing
completely to pieces. It will be quicker in the long run!
Relocating
the gear change cables demanded extra concentration but eventually
even this worked out.
I made the
deadline and double journey, returning once more with a van load and
full trailer behind. Trailer load number five.
I must add
that there was a nervous moment approaching those traffic lights at
the top of that hill on the ring road round Northampton!
Ends
Copyright
KS 2009
