Ashton Boatman

MOT time for the charity's van is always a bit of a worry. Big vans are expensive even when they are quite old, but so are repairs. Repairs are getting particularly tricky as vehicles get increasingly complicated and full of electronics. Our Transit is 17 years old and it's little electronic brain had a nervous breakdown long before we got it. It has about 180,000 miles on the clock

We've had the van for 2 years, and it's due for its second MOT in our ownership. Last year I took it to a chap in deepest Lancashire who often does repairs for us. He doesn't rip us off and he does a good job. I asked him to get it MOT'd. It had a few minor issues which he dealt with, no problem!  

I thought I'd do the same this year. I drove it to the relevant place and left it in our mechanic friend's capable hands. Next day he phoned me with a long list of faults, lots of welding needed, there was an oil leak that would involve dismantling the engine to fit new oil seals and it had failed on emissions. Emissions is a big one. Worn old diesels get dirty and it's very difficult and costly to get them to run clean again.

I contacted our trustees to explain that we were going to have to spend a few thousand pounds on a replacement van, then got a bus to the little Lancashire town to pick up the vehicle. 

When I saw the fail sheet from the MOT station I began to wonder. The oil leak was an advisory, not a fail. It had actually had that leak as an advisory on the last two MOTs and it hadn't got any worse. I wondered if the engine had been properly warmed up. Cold engines are smoky and it pays to have a good drive round before an MOT.

Next day I called at a local MOT station that I've used before and explained my dilemma. They told me to come back in an hour and they'd do an emissions test. I drove about to get the engine warmed up and lo, the engine did pass.

My conclusion is that our mechanic friend in deepest Lancashire had simply driven the short distance to the MOT centre and had it tested with it's engine still fairly cold. He then bigged up the faults, I suspect because he didn't fancy doing the welding. I don't blame him. It's not a job I've ever done, or ever wanted to do. Grinding out rusty metal with bits falling on you, then welding in new metal in awkward corners, with hot bits falling on you, doesn't really appeal. I'd rather be pecking wood.

Of course, passing an unofficial emissions test doesn't get us an MOT. All the other faults need to be rectified, but, if we know it can pass on emissions then they're worth doing. 

I took the van to see Canis. Our new trustee rejoices in the handle of Canis Fortunatis, latin for Lucky Dog. He has long experience of vehicle repairs and seems to revel in rejuvenating rustbuckets. He had a look under the van at the faults noted on the MOT sheet and declared them perfectly repairable. Today I delivered the van to him loaded with likely bits of metal from the boatyard and a bottle of CO2/Argon mix for his mig welder. I backed the van on to his ramps then cycled home from Chadderton. Fingers crossed for a successful MOT test sometime soon.

The van is a vital tool for the WCBS. We use it most days for ferrying stuff between the boatyard and Portland Basin and it's essential for our charity shop, collecting and delivering furniture etc. We could do with more van driving volunteers, especially for shop deliveries and collections. Don't worry if you're unable to carry furniture. We have a couple of hefty lads to do the hard work, we just need drivers.

                                                        Any offers?

                                                                             Let me know.

2010-01-05 @ 13:52:18 by ashtonboatman

A Cold Christmas for Captain Kit Crewbucket.

Captain Kit Crewbucket is a lucky black tomcat. In February 2003 he appeared under a tarpaulin in the hold of "Forget me Not". He was lost, terrified and wouldn't come near anyone. We estimated his age as about 6 months. Gradually as we put food out he learned to trust us. When I brought his food at dusk I would look under the tarpaulin and just see his two eyes shining in the dark. I thought it looked a bit ghostly, so I named him Kit Crewbucket after a spirit that is said to haunt Harecastle canal tunnel. One of the museum staff took a particular interest in our new arrival, but he called the cat Captain. As all readers of T.S. Eliot will know, a cat has three names, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXkLgtusza4 so he became Captain Kit Crewbucket.

Soon Captain Kit realised that he was on to a good thing on the boats with plenty of admirers to give him titbits and make fuss of him. He has become something of a celebrity at Portland Basin, with a regular column in the WCBS newsletter and occasional appearances in the local paper. Fans would visit from foreign places (like Yorkshire) in the hope of a glimpse of our celebrity pussycat.

It must be said that Captain Kit has always enjoyed the summer more than the winter. Basking in the sun has always been more his style than sheltering from the dreich drizzle and, his particular bette noir, snow.

When it began to snow, just before the Solstice, the Captain began to show a marked reluctance to come outside. When he did he would carefully hop between my footprints to avoid his paws sinking into the white stuff. After New Year the temperature dropped more and everywhere became covered in an 8 inch freezing white duvet. Kit had made himself a nest aboard "Hazel" and refused to leave it even for his favourite cat treats. It seemed like the time had come for the Captain to be given a holiday from the boats.

My partner, Emuna, loves cats. She used to have a wonderful black and white cat called Oedipuss who lived to be a grand old lady of 20. After Oedi died, Emuna decided not to have another cat. For several years, As Oedipuss got older, she had been reluctant to go away because she would not trust anyone else with the precious puss. She felt that having a cat was too much of a tie.

Emuna enthusiastically offered to look after Captain Kit for a while at her little house in Ashton, so we drove through the deep snow to park the van as near the basin as we dared, then trudged down to collect him. Cats generally don't like leaving their territories, and Kit was no exception. He struggled and yowled as I carried him through the deep snow to the van (which by then looked like a mobile ice cream).

Soon we were at Emuna's house and, after spending about an hour hiding under the bed, Captain Kit realised that lying on top of the bed was much more comfortable, and he's hardly moved from there since. He seems to be taking quite nicely to being a house cat. Now my concern is whether I'll be able to prise Emuna and Captain Kit apart when the time comes for him to resume command of the boats.