266. Grinding

Milan

The office, and breakfast, this morning

Can't believe how fantastic this location is. Dr Tim, a mate in Holyport, lived locally here twenty five years ago and has sent us screeds of ideas on WhatsApp for what to do and see which is appreciated. 

Like a complete idiot, I have never checked the Disco's brake pads for wear relying on the inbuilt sensors to let me know if they are getting thin. On driving here a few days ago I heard the horrible, bone scraping noise, of backing plate grinding, metal to metal, on a front brake rotor. I had no option but to continue, wincing every time I braked and amazed how much braking there is, once off motorways.

Established with the Land Rover dealer in Milan by email that they had pads in stock and observed on Google that they close at nine in the evening, such is the way in these parts. The children are also very keen to get out rowing in Teasel so oars were also of importance but I was not keen to pony up sixty euro per oar as had been the best I could do on my first attempt. Also keen for two metre oars as the lovely old ones that were stolen were about one point six metres, I think, so made for short strokes. I determined that I could sail with two metre oars strapped internally, sticking out the front, though a bit unwieldy.

We set off for Milan Land Rover, on the far side of Milan, way later than intentioned as the three younger children were fully engrossed in Audrey's new Playmobil and we were determined to get them through the camp showers for undisclosed reasons on this blog but something to do with frequency, or the lack of it, hair being the public indicator of our inattention.

At the very bottom of the lake (on the map) en-route to Milan I found a likely boat shop on Google however when we got to the address it was a shingle track leading down to the lake. Bounced our way down in the Disco to a yard/field dotted with dead boats and a shed with boat bits in and around it. Wandered over and found a nice lad in his early twenties whose English was a little better than my Italian so I did a stunning demonstration, worthy of Charades, indicating my rowing prowess and after a little confusion regarding boat hire he discerned my need for oars, all done without Google translate, I am come un nativo.

In the shed he found a rough old pair of collapsible oars, nothing like the beautiful ones that were stolen. On enquiry regarding the price he fetched the matriarch who indicated twenty euros for the pair. The deal was sealed and on reflection, they are perfect.

Laboured, grinding (my teeth and brake rotors - horrible noise), while Jacqueline read Order of the Phonex out loud, which we all enjoy, through heavy commuting traffic to Land Rover Milan, arriving at four minutes past six only to be informed by the lovely receptionist that the showroom closes at nine but the service department closed at six, as it says on the door, indicating dramatically, the door. With tears dancing in my eyes I dramatically indicated that I had driven for two hours to get there and would really appreciate her help. In the service depot, everybody was lighting cigarettes, having a last coffee, kissing and hugging, as one does in mechanical workshops, but were good enough to get the brake pads for me, for which I am very grateful. 

The plan was to then Disco explore the centre of Milan however, the grinding was now severe. All vestiges of asbestos or whatever now departed the front pads, I couldn't stand it any longer so we headed for camp, amazed how many people stepped onto pedestrian crossings as we approached. On reflection, should have raised the suspension and flattened em. Have ordered a new rotor and a full set of pads from Rimmer Bros, UK as looking at the state of the damaged rotor, the new pads, bought today, won't last long. Will fit the sacrificial pads tomorrow.