Drummossie, Aberdeenshire – January, 1976.
Because I couldn’t afford the necessary welding repairs to my Morris van til the end of the month, I was getting a daily lift into Aberdeen, with my friend and neighbour, Stewart. Aberdeenshire is the cold shoulder of Scotland and it was a hard winter. Normally, if you’re getting a lift into work, it would be churlish to object to push-starting your friend’s car. But, in a week of snow and ice, push-starting a VW beetle first thing in the morning involves a major (nay, crippling) effort. So, come Friday, I was pleading with Stewart: we would have to replace his starter motor that weekend. Stewart readily agreed, little knowing the pain and humiliation that would ensue.
We knew where there was a wrecked, abandoned VW, beside some derelict farm steadings a few miles away. So, on the Saturday morning, we set off (with me push-starting) to remove the wreck’s starter motor. The snowplough had cleared the overnight snow off the public road, but the track up to the wreck was impassable. So, although we’d brought an old car battery with us to test the starter motor on the wreck, we left that battery in Stewart’s car and struggled up the track to the wreck with just the tool box.
It was a troublesome business getting the starter motor out of the wreck in the freezing weather, but eventually we accomplished it and headed back to Drummossie (with me push-starting). Once home, we immediately tested the starter motor: nothing, a dud.
From the phonebox down the road (after I’d push-started the VW), Stewart then phoned the local scrappie, happily named Ian Grime. Stewart was dismayed at the price Grime wanted for his second-hand starter motor. Admittedly, it was a starter-motor/solenoid combined assembly, but we would still ourselves have to take it out of the scrapped VW in Grime’s yard. Stewart not only couldn’t afford it, he also felt that Grime was taking unfair advantage of his being the only scrappie for miles around.
Then Stewart came up with a plan: I was impressed, really impressed – it both secured the starter motor and struck a blow against Monopoly Capital. We would smuggle the newly-acquired dud starter motor into Grime’s scrapyard in Stewart’s big toolbox. We’d then take Grime’s starter motor out of the scrapyard VW and put that in the toolbox. Stewart would take the dud starter motor into Grime’s hut for testing, prior to payment, while I smuggled Grime’s starter motor out of the yard in the toolbox. Brilliant.
I push-started the VW and we headed off to the scrapyard, though the wind was strengthening and blowing drifts of snow off the fields and into the road. Not without difficulty, we made it to the yard. Practised now, we quickly disconnected Grime’s starter motor and switched it with our dud. I bore off the prize in the toolbox to the safety of Stewart’s VW, while Stewart went off with the dud to Grime’s hut.
I then hurried back to the hut, anxious not to miss Stewart’s secret triumph. He showed surprising thespian talent. Grime was messing about on the hut floor with a set of jump leads and a knife, scratching away at the corroded terminals of the dud starter motor. As I entered the hut, Stewart turned to me, his face a mask of horror: ‘Disaster, Boy Wonder. It’s a fuckin’ dud.’
I did my best to follow Stewart’s dramatic lead: ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, Batman. Now what are we goin’ to do?’
At that moment, the dud starter motor on the floor sprang noisily to life. Dud, no more. Indeed, what were we going to do now?
Image by Michael Kauer from Pixabay – Internal view of an old car engine.
literally stories 
Oh yes. That’s the way a problem becomes a conundrum becomes a drama. More great work from your keyboard Michael. Thanks for a giggle to start the day. dd
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Thanks, Diane. Getting a giggle is a a great response. Mick
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Thanks, Diane: getting a giggle is a great response. Mick
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Hi Mick
I had a ’68 Bug when I was 19. I was proud of being able to drive a stick, but my pride suffered a serious wound when I innocently asked, upon purchase, “How do I check the radiator?” (Anyone who knows about Beetles will understand).
Anyway, I never saw the end of this coming. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.
Funny and charming and you must wonder what happened. Without whipping up a hall of fame quality of a lie, I seriously doubt that it ended well, with everyone laughing over a pint BEFORE the passing of at least five years.
Leila
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You’re dead right. It takes AT LEAST least five years. Mick
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Another cracker of a tale! Briskly told with just enough detail for us to get the picture and with a laugh out loud ending – wonderful stuff!
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Thanks, Steven. Glad the ending worked. Originally, the story lingered on with snowdrifts and tractor-tows, but I cut it back. Your reaction is right, it should end in Grime’s shed.
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Oh, did you push-start the VW at all ?? 🙂
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The narrator became quite intimate with the rear of a VW over the course of a week. best wishes with your writing, Mick
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A fun and engaging slice-of-life. Goes to show for starters, crime doesn’t pay.
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Yep, even the best-laid criminal plans can come unstuck. Thanks, Mick
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Michael,
My VW was incapable of starting in the rain unless I put a kind of plastic overcoat over the engine prior and remembered to take it off after. Why do we have so many fond memories of our old VWs? Are we that forgetful or that fond of past discomforts?
I must admit, I found your pash-starting that thing all over Aberdeen in the snow rather humorous. Thanks for the treat. — Gerry
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Well, they didn’t rust as fast as the Morris vans. But the Morris vans did have a starter handle. Thanks for commenting – Mick
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The tone of this was great: jolly and bouncy with a touch of comic tragedy. I’m always in awe of anyone that can do any form of engineering, and you made it sound so much fun. Very enjoyable
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‘A touch of comic tragedy’ – I’ll take that with much thanks, Mick
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Mick
This is a lively, energetic and engaging tale with a high relatability factor, like all your stories. The number of junker cars I’ve had to deal with in my life is a number I can’t even figure, it’s so high. The back and forth of it all, the adventure of having questionable transportation in a world where you pretty much need a car or other similar vehicle, and the edginess of it all come through in this fast-paced, clearly written story.
I remember one time when the car broke down in the absolute middle of nowhere in Oklahoma, and then a rain, wind and hail storm broke out above us, and then we watched a tornado really far off in the distance and held our breath as it disappeared in the other direction while we sat there hunkering down in an ancient automobile that would no longer move for mysterious reasons of its own. Eventually a man much like Grime appeared out of nowhere in his pickup truck the back of which was, literally, overflowing with junk and he drove us thirty miles down the road to the nearest town. Your story is great at conjuring up a past life and capturing bittersweet memories. As usual, great writing, excellent sense of humor and aliveness; thanks!
Dale
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Thanks Dale. Sounds like that your experience of a car breakdown in the face of a tornado has the makings of a terrific story – Mick
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1.Needed a starter for a 1969 Nova (Spanish for no go) tobtained through marriage. I bought a starter, friend and I tried to install. Above our meager talents, ended paying for installation.
2.It was cold in Denver so after ariving at work, I put a blanket over the rear motor of my Corvair so the engine would not be too cold to start. Forgot to take it off before driving home, so it wrapped the blanket around the fan.
3.Honda Civic would never heat up in the Denver Winter, so I put cardboard in front of the engine. That trick worked. Windshield wipers frozen to windshield blew out a fuse when I attempted to engage them. The early Civic had a half manual choke. You had to pull it out, but it pulled itself back when appropriate.
4.Chevrolet Volt has been OK.
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Thanks Doug. Is the lesson of your tale: live long enough and car catastrophes become a thing of the past? Hope so.
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Hi Mick,
This is one of those tales that is a delight to listen to doon the pub.
All that I needed to enhance this was a few pints of lager!!
Witty, relatable (Who hasn’t chanced something!!) and beautifully written as always.
All the very best to you and yours my fine friend.
Hugh
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Thanks Hugh. You and Leila both spotted that I was going for a pub story approach. Glad you thought it worked (didn’t before I cut it down). best wishes to all at LS. Mick
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How to replace a starter motor as a Blow against Monopoly Capital! Brilliant & funny.
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Alas, Monopoly Capitalism won that round. But the struggle continues. Thanks!
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Grime, good name. Funny story. He had the skills, that’s why he was the scrap seller and they were the push starters. Live and learn, for sure.
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As ever, Harrison, you’re a close reader. And although told for the laughs, there is indeed a lesson there. Thanks for commenting, Mick
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Your storytelling is second to none and I adore ‘small’ stories like this that speak such depth of time, place, and people, but in a way that doesn’t attempt to be big and bold, but small and quiet, and as a result has such grace, impact and joy. I absolutely loved this.
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Paul: nearly missed this comment. My sincere thanks: you’ve made my day. MIck
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