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You're alone.  150km from the nearest "town", which is actually a couple of sheds and a dusty sign nailed to a tree.  The last car you saw was 110km back - upside down and burnt out by the side of the red dirt 'road' you've on - when the power to your engine drops then dies...

You recall the sign on the tree - "Welcome to the Australian outback"

It happened to me... question is, what would you do?

Well, fortunately I'm not alone, we're on tarmac and there's a fully functional Range Rover parked in front.  My compadres seem  to know something about Diesel Engines and we have a travel kettle to boil up a brew.

Now, back to the problem at hand - this mechanical donkey - nicknamed "piece of sh*t" - has been giving me gip for 3000km.  The final straw was allowing my co-driver to 'have a go' for the past 20km and, despite repeated warnings that driving above 110kph could cause problems, we've been hitting 130kph or so since - The Beast got too hot, black smoke belched from its rear and finally now its stopped and is refusing to start. Piece of Sh*t.

Steve (who owns the superbly equipped Range Rover) is telling me it could be fuel starvation, we despatch that with the spare jerry can.  No joy.  Next we believe its faulty injectors - could be.  Glowplugs? The starter motor whines OK but it won't start...

Is it worth towing? is it worth leaving and returning with help later?  No.  My vote, if Steve has room for our gear and two extra passengers, is to push it off the road, pour petrol on it, start the video rolling and nonchalantly throw a match over my shoulder onto it while walking towards the camera.  A scheme which is now becoming ingrained.

However, just before I give up and resort to extreme violence, Steve convinces me to continue trying the starter motor until the batteries (there are two) run flat - I oblige while he looks into the whining business area.  "Whats this lever for?" he asks. Meanwhile, Rob is reasoning with me that its probably still a fuel problem... I'm getting bored and trying to remember where I put the matches.

Out of idle curiosity I look in the manual and find that the lever Steve has found is an air valve used when the fuel has run dry... whoopee.  Still, worth a try... we pump it a few times - no joy, surprise.  Steve tries again while I rumage in the back for a light, and... the bloody thing starts!  

What a Piece of Shi* - its now ruined my premeditated  pyromania!

Well never mind... we make it to the next town (another set of sheds and a tree with a sign nailed to it) and find they happen to have a shiny new Nissan Patrol radiator cap for sale - I gladly part with a few bucks and we continue on to Mount Isa without further incident... well, barring a kamikaze Parrot that is...

Epilogue: Its now 2000km since The Beast was threatened with being torched - since then its not dealt any further grief.   So next time you breakdown, forget the RAC, just show the mechanical donkey a can of petrol and a box of matches.

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