Not content with going to the far western fringes of wales a week or two ago, this weekend, Herman turned his flat fizzer in the opposite direction and headed off to Whitby on the North Yorkshire coast for our annual trip to WGW.
No problems at all on the way there. He chugged along merrily for the three hours or so the journey took and only used about half a tank of diesel. And he reached 73MPH on the motorway for a few dizzying seconds. Nosebleeds were flying out of us in all directions, I can tell you!
On the way back, it was a slightly different story:
When you’re coming into Whitby, you’ve climbed slowly up through the North York Moors National Park before you descend quite steeply into the town. Naturally, on the way back this is reversed and you have a steep climb up out of the town into the park.
I noticed when we set off that Herman felt pretty sluggish. I put it down to the fact it was a damp, wet, drizzly day and he wasnae really in the mood for it. As we started crawling up the steep hills near Sleights, on the way back tho’ I knew something more serious was wrong; I had my heel to the steel and the engine was revving like a bastard, but we were just trickling up the hills at barely over ten or fifteen MPH.
Once we got past that vertiginous section and were on the gentle downslope through the national park and then later still, on the motorway, he was pulling like a train again and smashed his world sprinting record by reaching 76MPH on a downhill section of the motorway.
We got safely home without any further incident, but there’s obviously something not right wi the clutch. It seems to be slipping - although I’d have expected to smell burning if it was. But it definitely ain’t right. We even got overtaken on a hill by a family car pulling a caravan, for feck’s sake. How embarrassing!