Mike & the art of Kangoo maintenance

 Apart from enthusiasm, we didn't have too much in the way of qualifications to suggest it was wise to drive a quarter of the way 'round the world on our own.

My language skills extend, loosely, to English (although, unbeknownst to us prior to departure, J's Polish mother tongue helped us out of more than one tight spot); we were pretty much skint until a last ditch loan application came through; and we had the combined total of bugger all experience or knowledge when it came to vehicle repair (or even maintenance).

In the Railway pub in Tulse Hill a few months before departure, I witnessed a friend almost literally fall off his chair when I told him we were essentially just hoping for the best when it came to repairing the car. It didn't exactly increase my confidence that I wasn't plunging myself and my girlfriend into unknown peril, but I'd already rationalised the situation in my head - if only to stop myself panicking and calling the whole thing off.

My original plan had been to undertake some sort of car maintenance evening class at the local college. A bit of investigation indicated that it was far from cheap, and in the time I had available it was clear we wouldn't get much beyond being able to undertake pre-MOT checks. This left a whole world of potential issues which I still wouldn't know anything about, and I figured that the types of calamity which were likely to befall us in the middle of Mongolia would be unrelated to needing to change an indicator bulb. I was also clinging to a half-remembered quote from one of the conference calls with rally organisers, who were adamant that "every village once you leave the EU has a bloke who can fix any problem with a coat hanger and some twine". Nevertheless, I was worried at my complete lack of understanding of even the coarser workings of our Renault Kangoo.

This was where my sister's mate Mike attained legendary status. The pages of notes to the left are my desperate scribbles as Mike gave the van the once over and rolled out a stream of advice for life on the road. Not only is he a mechanic, if I remember correctly he'd taken supply trucks down to Bosnia in the 90s after the civil war, so had experience of overlanding in harsh conditions.

The advice was exactly what was needed - how to drive through water, how to stop the engine getting clogged up with dust, the button to press if the engine cuts out, the easiest way to repair a puncture, and - most importantly - he uttered the words "sump guard".

I'd never heard of a sump guard before. Mike explained it was to protect the oil sump underneath the engine: the precious reservoir of fluid which stops the engine grinding to a halt. A hole or leak in it, and our rally would pretty much definitely be over - especially if we didn't turn the engine off immediately.

It was the one must-spend expense, as far as Mike was concerned - nothing more than some metal bars underneath the front of the van was needed, with enough space to ensure the whole thing didn't heat up too much. But without it our rally could come to an abrupt end.

The other advice scrawled in my spidery handwriting implies that we were prepared for any eventuality:

• Molegrips - for brake pipes - if one gets severed - look where fluid is leaking - crimp pipe over or put molegrips on to stop the flow
• Duct tape - roll of
• DIY Dental kit (we didn't take one - the idea was that if we got tooth ache out in the middle of nowhere, we could do running repairs or at the very least give it to a local dentist to ensure the kit was hygienic. We never tracked one down and thankfully were pain free for the duration).
• 10w40 oil - 5 litres. This was the first time I knew there were different types of oil.
• Cable ties. Always useful for running repairs.
• Gear Box - JB2 - gear linkage - long rod - ask (the mechanic) to show where it is (when we have the van in for its pre-departure service) - can put it in gear manually from underneath (as with the brake pipe advice, the prospect of manually changing gear by crawling under the van in the middle of the steppe seems pretty hardcore, but I believed after speaking to Mike that I'd be able to do it if required. Needs must, and all that).
• Take off stickers on door - Mike was concerned that, despite the engine being a 1.5, the model number on the Kangoo's door implied it should be a 1.7. Mike thought this might lead to problems crossing borders or handing over the vehicle at the end as it might look like the engine had been replaced. As far as I was concerned, the engine matched the V5 and that was good enough for me. The stickers stayed. No one noticed, although given they stop using the latin alphabet once you leave the EU, it's perhaps not surprising that the documents weren't scrutinised too much.
• Tin of K Seal - £8. This was for fixing a leaking....
• Head Gasket - (if we) start using a lot of water - put in (the K Seal) and top up with water - tick over.
• Battery Pack - for jump starting (or jump leads) - electric cooker cable. I think the suggestion here is that cooker cable can act as a cheap alternative to jump leads if necessary. Living in London, I found it much easier to get jump leads rather than cooker cable.
• Sump - put bits of tube across underneath the sump - steel sump guard on the subframe. Stop the oil sump getting damaged. Ah, the sump guard - such a nondescript collection of words when you see them written here, yet it was this that ultimately proved more key to our successful adventure than anything else I can think of.
• Oako - half a bottle - garden centre - puncture repair stuff - foot pump. The other amazing revelation on that June afternoon was that a punctured tyre can be repaired by darning or by pouring liquid rubber into the tyre. I'd envisaged somehow cramming about 5 spare wheels into the back of the van in case of punctures - suddenly all that was needed was a darning kit and a bottle of Oako (we ended up with Holt's tyre weld instead). The tyre weld was always to be used as a last resort, as it is impossible to darn a tyre that has already been fixed with the rubber cement.
• Sump guards - 1/4 inch pipes like a gate (Mike's idea was to have metal tubing forming a protective 'cage' under the engine)
• Park Co - darner for tyres. Still don't know how to spell the name of the product that was discussed here. We ended up with an uber-darning kit from KP Autos, of whom more later.
• Register with the British Embassy re: travel plans. Ah yes, the vaguely unsettling 'just so they know where you are in case a) it all kicks off and they need to evacuate you, or b) you go AWOL and they need to know where to start searching.
• Back of seat tidies - these were suggested by my sister; her former career as Animal Warden for Cotswold District Council had made her something of an expert at ensuring everything useful was to hand in the cab of a small van.
• Mini-hammock - another suggestion for storage, to hang behind the front seats.
• Car boot organiser - again, useful for separating things out (as it turned out we just took massive cardboard boxes - one for food, one for camping gear, one for maintenance paraphernalia).
• Cargo net / luggage net. Much the same as a hammock.
• Driving in Dust - put foam or a pair of tights, or a dust mask, in the air intake - stop (the dust) clogging the air filter. We used foam - you detach the air hose where it enters the engine and shove it in. The foam tended to get shaken out after a while on the more bumpy roads, but it did the job pretty well.
• Driving through water - take air intake off and put on top of engine - can go through up to indicators. As it transpired, the deepest water we went through was only up to the door sills so we never had to do it - but it's a ready made snorkel if you need one.