I drove the Jupe on a (rather chilly) February evening from my flat down to Exeter (about 200 miles), fully expecting (and equipped) to deal with a busted oil filter gasket or other such fun thing in the cold and dark at a motorway services (or worse, the hard shoulder) - dad had leant me special warm overalls for the occasion. But no, she behaved perfectly, and apart from a hiccough on the way off the motorway at the other end, we arrived safe and sound.
I was up early to give her a last minute polish, remove rally plates and get myself ready. Picked up a friend from the station and ran out of petrol going up a partixcularly steep hill - the petrol gauge lies, apparently. No problem, fill her from the can we always carry (me at this point dressed in wedding outfit). Get on way to bride´s house to pick her up. Car started stuttering as we were going through Exeter town centre. Then she died. I put in an emergency call to the bride´s brother asking him to bring me a couple more cans of petrol. No joy. I got under the car and started hitting the petrol pump. No joy. Ditto with fiddling under the bonnet.
(All this time I am in my posh wedding gear...)
Bride´s brother, by his own admission, could do nothing more than ´stand there and look pretty´whilst I tried all this. Eventually, despite instruction from Clements senior via telephone, we decided we had to get to the church on time, and not in a Jowett
The bride ended up being transported to church in her dad´s Japanese thing, and I ended up spending about 3 hours underneath the Jupiter in my wedding outfit trying to get her going, with help from the bride´s uncle (we didn´t succeed).
The car and I both did get a (dis)honourable mention in the speeches though...
Amy.