The engine of our car is in the boot. Not that this is the sort of vehicle where the engine is found at the back.
No, no, no.
I mean our boot is full of engine parts, dirty oil, screws and wires. For over the past 8 months, our car has been struck with the most eccentric disease: out in the wilderness of Tanzania and Burundi, it may be Priscilla, Queen of the desert; but on the safe tarmac roads of Bujumbura it has decided to enact a new version of Little Miss Sunshine, the van part. It breaks down on average every 40km, due to some overheating of the engine. At which point you must clean the sparkplugs, let it cool for a bit and then you’re good to go.
For the next 40km that is, until the car breaks down again.
We’ve given it to various garages and changed many parts.
Many being the key word.
Brake pads, suspensions, filter, fuel pump, injectors, capacitor, you name it. No-one knows what the problem is. Mechanics swear the engine is good, just the car is “haunted”. Well, it is certainly haunting my dreams as I really don’t know what to do with it and sometimes catch myself wondering whether it is God’s punishment for having fallen for a 4-wheel drive...