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Showing posts with label Bedford 3-ton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bedford 3-ton. Show all posts

Saturday, July 28, 2007

The Bedford Story - the end as we know it



They picked up the radiator. And dropped it off down the beach.



They also went to check out the camp sites in town to see if there was space so Bedford Truck Man could avoid getting towed off the beach by the police.

En route they picked up the water pump to bring back here, and Helpful Partner welded a bolt on the front of it to prevent the fan flying off the water pump and going through the radiator again.



BTM walked down to the 'phone box to find out about the second-hand rad he was supposed to be getting from the UK.

He came back. We gave him another beer. And his water pump.



The rad from England seemed to have vanished into the aire.

Next day, Helpful Partner wandered down to the beach to see how things were going.

BTM had fitted the water pump and put back the broken radiator.

After all, he had driven from Tarifa to here without a functioning water pump. Good truck.

When the police turned up again, he showed them his booking for the camp site in town, so they knew he would be gone from the beach as soon as he was sorted. No jail. No court. No homeless woman and daughter.

BTM and his woman enjoyed the tomatoes we had given them. They liked the photos that we had printed off too.

He didn't seem bothered about the radiator any more. Although he had asked if he could use our address to get a radiator delivered from the UK, he seemed to have changed his mind. He could use the camp site address.

Next day, Helpful Partner went down the beach. They were gone. He went to the camp site. The snotty staff person wouldn't let him in (and he was on his very best expensive disc-braked bike!).

Partner peered through the fencing but couldn't see their truck.

We guess they got it going and just cleared off. They hadn't exactly had a lot of luck here, so in their place we wouldn't have stayed either.

Helpful Partner drove him round and tried to help. BTM offered 20€ - for diesel or welding or whatever help - but Partner refused. We've been helped in the past.

We hope they are ok - wherever they are.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

The Bedford Story - Part 2



So anyway, there's Helpful Partner traipsing round the local county town looking for tubo (hose) for this 50-year-old Bedford truck.

The local recambios place (spare parts, winch cables, hydraulic hoses among others) is pretty versatile, but it didn't have the right diameter hose. They are always helpful guys though - and they gave directions to a competing motor factor - even though they were risking losing some trade.

This was on the industrial estate, and full of mechanics buying parts on trade accounts. It was basically aimed at trucks. Small ones, large ones, but all trucks. And they had the tubo.

So Helpful Partner dropped Bedford Truck Man (BTM) off at the beach so he could replace the pipe between the air intake and the oil bath.

The next day, he went down the beach to see if BTM had sorted it and could get off on his travels.

Apparently he couldn't.

He had fired up the engine, it sounded good and the fan promptly flew off the end of the water pump and straight through the radiator.

This was not good. Helpful Partner had taken down a couple of beers so they had a drink and a chat.



Then BTM offered Helpful Partner some wine (neither of them had any beer left). Not being much of a wine-drinker he said no.

So then he offered him Tequila. The bottle was nearly empty so when they finished that they moved onto a bottle of Mezcal. Tequila-type stuff with a worm in the bottom. But Helpful Partner didn't know that until they had polished off that bottle too and BTM offered him the "worm". To eat.

Well, right-on vegetarians don't eat worms or any sort of similar grubs. They aren't too keen on polishing off nearly half a bottle of spirit and find it has been fermenting with some dead grub inside it. Drowned. Pickled. Whatever.

He politely refused and was secretly pleased he had started to pour some of his Mezcal into BTM's glass. Hence he was slightly less the worse for wear than he could have been. And he managed to walk home.

Somewhere in the midst of this grubby Mezcal story, they decided the next day they (ie Helpful Partner) would go and look for a rad at the local scrapyards.

That was worse than useless so then they asked about recoring the rad. And they were given directions to a workshop in the local market town again.

So when they eventually found it, the guys at the workshop promised to ring back later that day. This is Spain. When I rang, it turned out they were waiting for someone else to get back to them. The next day they rang. SEVEN HUNDRED EUROS.

BTM nearly died. Actually we all nearly died and it wasn't even our rad. They agreed to pick up the rad the next day. Unrepaired. BTM thought it would be cheaper to source one from the UK, including carriage. They both forgot the next day was Saturday.

Fast forward to Monday. BTM turned up at our house. The police were getting increasingly difficult about the fact that the truck was still parked at the beach. (Technically illegal although done all the time - especially at Spanish fiestas). The police told them to move on which is difficult with a broken-down truck. BTM wanted to collect his damaged-beyond-economic-repair rad from the market town. Immediately.

Helpful Partner was out on his bike though. I didn't know when he was coming back, and if he had stopped for a beer on his bike he wouldn't be driving when he returned. So I told BTM this and said he might want to think about getting on the bus. Less than a euro and five/ten mins walk from the bus station to the rad workshop.

Meanwhile, unknown to me, Helpful Partner had called down the beach to see what was going on. He spoke to Bedford Truck Woman, and then managed to catch up with BTM who was by now making a fruitless journey to what he thought was a scrapyard but is actually a builders' merchants that happens to use old trucks.

"Why don't you get the bus?" said the Helpful Partner, repeating my words telepathically like a parrot. He had stopped for a beer in town. BTM was not impressed, he did not want to get the bus, but he wanted his rad. He didn't want the police towing him off either. And taking him to court, leaving his 18-month-old daughter and his woman without a roof over their head.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

The Bedford Story - Part 1


Wandering idly down the beach the other day, as you do on a Sunday morning, Excitable Partner spotted a Bedford 3-ton truck.

When he is not lusting after Forward Controls, or 101s (these are all Land Rovers) he wants a Bedford truck. Hmmm.

"Hi can I take a photo of your truck?"

"Yeah, course you can. No problem. Most people don't ask."

The guy was English. He and his woman and very young daughter told us they were travelling up the coast having spent some time in Portugal and Gibraltar.

Boring talk about truck then ensued.

Age: 50 (the truck this is)

History: museum, and two previous owners

Price seven years ago: £1200

Engine: 5.5 diesel out of a later Bedford truck

Problems: none really

Mileage: well low, 9000 when it came out of the museum

Cruising speed: 45mph

The woman finally appeared so we talked about other things. Glastonbury. Police. Travelling. Home births. Sign language for babies. I know little about these last two and am not planning to experience either. Actually I know nothing about the first two either.

Off we went after nearly an hour chatting in the increasingly hot sun.

A day or two later doing the Shopping Run in the Santana, Helpful Partner returned home with Bedford Truck Man (BTM). He'd met him in town where he was wandering round looking for hose that goes from the air intake to the oil bath.

It seemed his had exploded. His engine was overheating. He was struggling round town trying to find somewhere to buy the right hose. His Spanish was pretty minimal.

Unfortunately the local shopping town is not the buying-hose-for-trucks-town. Or EP90 as we have just found out. A guy in one of the garages was telling him that the next town, only a short walk away in the middle of the day (hah) would have the right hoses.

So Helpful Partner junked off the shopping and off they went in search of the elusive hose...........

...........More later......radiators, fans and water pumps...