I wondered whether to start a new thread, but as I pretty quickly subtitled this one as being about ‘life’ anyway, I figured this story just continued on…
…and I’d also said we geriatrics were about to jump in a GT3 and strike out for the South of France.
First of all though some prep, some of which could be useful if you’re planning the same.
We were planning to use the toll autoroutes to get down there quickest, but as it’s peak Euro holiday time we thought we’d try to speed up the toll péage routine by investing in a fast lane electronic pass. If you Google the website Emovis you’ll find Emovis UK Tag Ltd. They’re really helpful sorting you out and within a couple of days we received the tag which fixes easily enough behind the mirror.
It has a slot in one end which, following instructions, neatly fits into the unit’s base that is stuck on to the windscreen (with removable adhesive strip). Basically when you’ve activated the device on their website, it should then beep as you approach the toll barrier, which should then magically lift letting you through and debiting your account at the same time… That’s the theory. We’ll see.
On the other side of the windscreen is a Crit Air sticker from Certificat-air.gouv.fr . We didn’t know if we’d end up in larger French cities yet, but if we did we’d be covered for emissions payments based on type of car.
The other prep I wanted to do before leaving was to pick a few CDs for the odd bit of in-car entertainment when we weren’t listening to the Mezger flat 6.
My old C4S had a wonderful Bose system. A dealer once told me the Porsche equivalent is just as good. Bollocks. The GT3 has a Porsche CD-R 22 radio, with the CD racks beneath. I haven’t had one since early Boxster days. You’d have laughed watching me trying to put a CD into every crevice that might be the CD slot. Could I remember how the bloody thing worked?
Eventually, with no manual to follow I gave up. Trish found the answer on some random forum. Top right button. Press. Bloody thing pops open.
Sorted. So, nearly ready, we loaded up an oldies kit for the adventure. Couple of picnic chairs, couple of bags of clothes and stuff, hats, walking stick in case my arthritis plays up and I can’t manage any unanticipated hotel stairs and a slightly augmented tool kit as I don’t trust a car with no spare tyre to be sorted by Tyre-Weld alone!
And we were off. I’d brimmed the tank with 99 octane the night before, after a consultation with our bank manager. It’ll be interesting to see what the mpg really can be on a Gen 1 GT3.
After a good first stint, we stopped for a Starbucks coffee at the services and I freaked.
The fuel tank gauge must be broken. I’ve done 100 miles and it hasn’t moved. There’s always some curve ball surprise isn’t there? That’s going to be a nightmare through France.
Trish takes over, and I keep asking - has it moved yet? It wasn’t until half way round the M25 that it budged. Oh what a happy man. We celebrated by stopping at the glorious Clacket Lane services and having our first ever use of the GT3 sandwich bar. France here we come.