The glow plugs were indeed not working properly and the battery was, indeed, dead. The mechanics of Leamington (including the much hailed “returning tomorrow” of the previous post) had fought and fallen before the Beast, at times (I can only assume), cowering in fear and possibly weeping wretchedly. At any rate, none of them showed. Hell does not have enough bile reserved for people who do not hold up their end of a deal, but hope was in sight. Hope in the form of the same brother and father who had witnessed the awakening of the Jabberwocky way back here and who came armed with an arsenal of tools and demanding only tea, some peanuts and a packet of minstrels.

The waiting was tense. This was our very last hope, beyond this lay the black pit of eternal scrappage, from whence one can return only in pieces. I made the tea. A switch was fitted to the battery, wiring occurred. I made another round of tea. Preparations were complete, glow plugs were fixed, the fried switch was a thing of the past. The jump leads were connected, by now rather familiar friends, and the ignition pressed. The beast roared like a frightened puppy, and then did the van equivalent of piddling in the corner. Dead.

This called for a crisis meeting, and more tea. I made the tea. We regrouped in the living room and brother and father outlined the options. We could try a new battery, but there was no guarantee this would work. On the other hand, it was 5:50 on a Saturday, so we had 10 minutes of purchasing time remaining. 20 minutes later we were back, with daylight almost gone and £115 of battery. The air was tense and growing steadily colder as my brother fitted the battery and clicked the glow plugs into action before the final push.

The Beast roars into life
No sound has ever rent the air of that Leamington street so melodically, no ear-splitting growl has ever echoed so sweetly. The Beast thundered, belching clouds of aromatic diesel as it fumed into glorious life. We cheered and hugged and, from an external perspective, were disproportionately joyous about staring a car, but overwhelming gratitude laid waste to common decency. It lives, there is life in the old Beast yet, and we can finally take our next step towards vanhood!

We went inside to celebrate. I made the tea.

About Jabberwocky Soliloquy

The Jabberwocky drifts through space, collecting the most tasty things to eat. It brings them home and cooks them, humming about deliberate omissions and fortifying colours. As with all things it is, or should be, just happy to be here.
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