Muddy Boots and Curse of the LaRo gods

Muddy Boots joined our family two months ago, and even in this short time, we have developed a strong bond with our Landy (LaRo in Dutch).

Countless hours have seen vigorous attacks with steel brushes against ugly rust spots, followed by tender stroking of preventative transformer fluid.

The old torn seats have been stripped down to bare bones, repadded and covered with silvery grey diamond-mesh cloth; preferable to sticky leather on hot summer journeys. Waterproof covers are still required to make it Marvic-proof, although my red wine spillage is usually reserved for camp sites.

Marcel sound-proofs the door cards and attacks the aluminium bulkhead with an angle grinder, so we can cargo underlays that are longer than the available 1,10 m. The sparks fly when he hits the steel reinforcing. Our neighbours run in terror. Only kiddding. ’twas mighty impressive though.

I remove the old window panelling and embark on a crash course in car upholstery a.k.a. trial by error. Instead of foam, I use rubber underlay to help absorb the ear-splitting cacophony of an empty hold. I search in vein for a light beige or pale blue camoflauge vinyl and come across a fabulously bling snakeskin champagne-coloured vinyl cloth. Perfect. Further sound-proofing body kits are ordered from Germany and England.

In between all of this, Muddy Boots has fetched a ton of rocks (see Travel-inspired landscaping), delivered underlays and lost his bearings on the water pump, leaving us stranded on the A6. A couple of calls and hours later, he’s towed off to Wiwo in Mijdrecht. While we’re in Poland, Wojtek had discussed various options with us, like installing stronger Nissan Patrol axels (with diff-locks) and disk brakes to replace the current drum brakes.

We decide to go ahead and entrust Muddy Boots into Wojtek’s care. Missing our boy, Marcel and I dive into laminate flooring to help build up the Laro kitty (that essential piggy bank for all Land Rover owners). We visit as often as we can, learn how-to’s on making changes and general Landie maintenance.

Simon and Mikki have also been bitten by the LaRo adventure bug, and swap their reliable Scenic for an English offroader. Marcel joins him on a quick jaunt to Portsmouth. Dosh exhanged for keys, they leave an hour later to catch the ferry back from Dover to Dunkerque and head North.

Finding the journey too much, the alternator pulley abandons ship and the fan belt follows suit. Deserted, the water pump loses its coolant and stops them in their tracks. If there was a spare belt (or panty hose) they could have limped on to the next station. But alas, the dreaded phone call to emergency services has to be made. Waiting for the towing service and replacement car, the guys chat about the pros and cons of being owned by Landies.

Simon decides to call their beast, Seymour – in both senses of the word … hoping to discover Europe, and currently “seeing more” of Belgium.

A week later they return to Belgium, and drive away with a repaired 4×4. That is until 10 km’s later when they discover the dealer hadn’t replaced the coolant. A costly mistake that results in a blown head gasket … this time, Wiwo are called in to tow the car back to their garage, where the pressure is mounting with each new car waiting to be holiday-ready.

Muddy Boots is not a happy chap. His new axles are not sitting well. Wojtek is frustrated because a previous Nissan to Laro surgery was a breeze. Turns out the mounting points on these axels are a couple of inches wider, so nothing fits properly. Even the steering arms need to be elongated. What should have been a couple of days turns into fervent frustration.

Our pending Portugal journey looming ever closer.

Seymour is fixed and Simon proudly introduces him to the family. Mikki and the girls take time getting to know their testosterone on wheels. Seymour is returned to Wiwo for a service and some electrical work.

A week later than planned, Muddy Boots can be fetched at the same time as Seymour … the night before we leave. We drive to Schiphol to fetch our Mom who’s on cat-sitting duty and test our cars at the same time. Seymour is great.

Muddy Boots is not. He’s just not safe to drive. His symptoms look like jungle fever, lethargic, shuddering and gnashing teeth. We’re devestated. With an awful day installing unco-operative laminate, this is back-breaking straw.

I want to cry but can’t. I feel so empty. Let’s put it mildy when I say Marcel wanted to give Muddy Boots a viking funeral.

We have worked our fingers to the bone to foot the bill.

The guys at Wiwo have worked their hearts out to get a reliable travel-ready car.

What more is humanly possible? Searching for answers we contemplate a higher driving force that is demanding to be appeased.

Were the LaRo gods “not amused” because we dared to add Nissan parts to a Land Rover? Was a smile flashed in the wrong way or a frown given inappropriately? Did we not work hard enough, or did we try too hard? What are the rituals we should be practising?

Muddy Boots is returned to Wiwo and we drive home in silence. Gutted. I get 3 hours sleep and wake up formulating an email to explain our situation to Wojtek, Anno and the guys, who are probably going to be spitting mad when they see our blue boy on their drive way.

Rob and Diana very generously offer their Land Rover 90 as a replacement car so that we can at least go on holiday. And so that Simon and Mikki can enjoy their holiday too .. the idea being that these Laro novices will travel in convoy.

Our good friends also trust their 90 implicitly, understanding it’s quirks and high-maintenance needs. We are hugely grateful for the opportunity of getting to know what a Landie should be like. Which sounds are normal, and which ones should send us running for the tool kit.

And hopefully, to restore our faith in the original dream … going on adventure with Land Rover.