Day 7 – Providence or fate? You tell me . . .

Have you ever had a premonition? Or realised, as an event occurs, you knew ‘something’ was due to happen? Intuition, or foreboding? 

There’s always plenty of thinking time on each day’s journey. Today is no exception. In between crosswords (the clue and answer kind), thinking of family and friends back home, discussing the latest on Ukraine and enjoying the glorious Austrian scenery . . .

‘So, . . . What would happen if Beastie got really sick? Would our EU breakdown cover come up trumps? Would it curtail our trip? How would we cope? . . .’

It’s mid afternoon. A quiet spot for a rest break needed. The Tyrol and Fern pass via the non-toll 179 an easy, but still tiring drive. A BP-Spar looms. Beastie’s on a quarter full. Just the job. Kill two birds with one stone.

Climb back up. Turn the key. Nothing. Beastie’s having a nervous breakdown. The display reads “Transmission Failure”. What!? Turn again. “Power steering failure” Oh no!! Third time lucky? “Diesel filter failure” What the hell!

Beastie is no more. Demised. Nailed to the spot. Not even restin . . . dead as a parrot. What a place to call it a day! We’re miles from Bolton.

Fumbling fingers fumble through the manual. Search for an answer that’s not there. The young woman at the till has as much English as I German. The word kaput, understood. She follows me back to Beastie and I give him another chance to spring back into life. Nothing. She writes down a number of a breakdown service. Instead, I call Comfort Insurance. Our policy includes EU breakdown. Ten minutes pass before an answer. Full details given. She can’t work out exactly where we are. I remember the app WhatThreeWords. She knows it too. The inventers have broken the whole world into three metre squares and allocated a unique three word combination to each square; so as I’m typing this I can see I am precisely located at //eldest.recommit.subtleties//

Two hours pass. We sit out a torrential thunderstorm.

A man pops over from the shop. To check on the situation. He speaks English. Luckily it’s a big station and there are lots of other pumps. I phone again. Another hour has passed. It seems the Austrian breakdown service say it should be dealt with by their German counterparts, but neither have a tow truck, or mechanic to hand!

I relay this back to the man. He says something to the young woman, who phones her boyfriend. It just so happens he works at the Austrian Motor Club – the equivalent of our RAC & AA. He says he’ll get someone with us in less than thirty minutes. Twenty minutes later the fault is diagnosed as a dead battery. Beastie needs a transplant. It just so happens he has on board a perfect match!

By now there’s no chance to reach our planned site. However, it just so happens this BP Spar offers free overnight parking and hotel spa-like facilities. And for one euro a twenty-two minute hot shower. (compared to last night’s camping of one euro per four minutes)

Then it’s Dolomites here we come . . .