Life, death, and pickups – Part one

We’ve about 30 miles to go when the Ford’s water-in-fuel warning flickers into life. It promptly disappears as quickly as it appeared, and I manage to convince myself it was just sunlight striking the indicator. I’d fitted a new fuel filter, after all, and plenty of good diesel had been run through the Ranger since.

But minutes later, as the clock marches towards seven in the morning, the unpleasant caution lamp returns. And, I realise, it’s not alone: the charging light is also glowing red. We’ll make the ferry but the next 1300 miles to Kyiv is looking likely to be highly problematic for the future me.

I couldn’t blame the Ranger for throwing a wobbly. When I bought the Ford, it probably thought it would have a pleasant retirement after 25 years of service. And what I did next probably made it think that even more likely: I cleaned and protected its underside, fixed everything, serviced it, fitted new tyres, put it through an MOT, and even detailed it. It would indeed be starting a new chapter, but rest would have very little indeed to do with it.