And that's when I noticed the flames...........

Bit late posting this, as it happened about 2 weeks or so ago, but anyway.

Setting off for work, and the car just didn't feel "right", and there were strange rumbling noises, seemingly from the wheels/axle/left hand flange gasket & grommit (take your pick, it was raining and I had the wipers on) I also had the Radio on, Radio 4 as usual and I did wonder for a brief moment if John Grumphrys was about to spontaneously combust in a fit of self righteous pique plus voice ever rising indignant squeak.

After about a three quarters of a mile I pulled over and got out to take a look. Everything looked fine, so I carried on. Now, I feel I must make a confession here, I had actually come to a halt with 2 wheels in a puddle, but had failed to fully take this on board.

After another mile or so, with various warning lights flashing I pulled over again. Instead of phoning my nearest garage (whose number I can never remember, it is now programmed into my phone) I phoned work, and explained that I seemed to have a problem (insert "Houston" if you like) but would be continuing slowly and calling in at the garage next to the office before presenting myself.

My immediate Manager, who seems to think that David Brent, the Ricky Gervais character in "The Office" should not be seen as a role model and someone to aspire to, but is in fact a parody, asked if I had a flat tyre. Rather witheringly I told that I wasn't a complete numpty and had already checked that. (You can probably see where this is going, can't you?)

Another mile with more lights and the noise getting worse, I managed to pull completely off the road, where I found, yes, I had a completely flat rear tyre. (I will refrain from making the old joke that luckily it was only flat at the bottom). Phoned David Darren again, confessed and sked for the number of the garage near work. Phoned them, they said they would be out and asked of I had a spare. (Apparently not all cars do these days?) Now, I knew I had one, and also knew that it was one of those emergency types called a "space saver".

So, the chap duly arrived, fitted the thing and advised me not to go obver around 35mph, and also warned me that it would feel very odd to drive on. Which it did.

I set off cautiously, with the mechanic following, but things still didn't seem right. I put it down to the strange tyre. As I was going up a very slight incline, the car seemed to be losing power, which worried me.

I glanced into the passenger side wing mirror, which was when I noticed the flames. They were coming from the vicinity of the spare wheel. I stopped. So did the mechanic. I got out. So did he. He put the flames out. I lit a cigarette. With trembling fingers, I might add.

He said that the brakes had bound on the tyre, which caused the slowing down which I had thought was loss of power, and then the friction had caused it to catch light. he offered to drive the car for me, if I was happy to drive the van. I was not. It had gears.

So we set off to cover the remaining 12 miles or so, me crawling along at 20 mph, him behind me, along with an ever growing queue of traffic. There's not much opportunity to overtake on that road, but those that did manage to cast withering glances at what must have seemed like a nervous old lady driving a high performance car capable of great speed as if she was setting off in her Morris Traveller to take her turn on the Church flower rota.

Eventually reached the garage, I disembarked with trembling legs and went to work.

The bill was £508.46

(The car was supposed to be ready that evening, and wasn't which resulted in another embarrassing tale, but I think you have probably had enough for now)