Yesterday, as I pulled into work, the car started making a crackling, popping sound somewhere behind the fascia under the radio. It was intermittent and seemed somehow tied to the behaviour of the engine. But on the way into Witney at lunchtime it seemed to work the sound out of its system and, by the time I reached the car park, it was running as smoothly as it ever does.
Today I can hear an entirely new sound, a kind of metallic rattle, which is harder to pinpoint but is roughly underneath the gearbox, and might be something to do with some component of the exhaust system. I hope so, and that it isn’t something to do with the gears, because I had the exhaust replaced recently and so can hopefully whip those mechanic chappies into a frenzy with my righteous anger.
It could be worse: at least Hrududu is still continent. As I was driving back to work yesterday, I spotted the SUV in front of me struggling a little as it approached a roundabout. Its silencer vibrated with a slight cough, and then the end of its exhaust let out a little bit of wee. I think it’s sad that so many of these elderly individuals fall through the social-services net.