You are starting to overheat. It is a cool morning with intermittent showers clearing slowly from the west but already the needle is falling sideways on the temperature gauge. You hold your breath. You stop the car and a thin bead of rusty water arches through the air from the front. The water hits the earth and drains away as if sucked from beneath. When the leak slows to a dribble, you notice a tiny hole in the radiator. Bits of fur and bone are wedged between the bars of the metal grille.

While waiting for the engine to cool, you take this opportunity to perform a few useful tasks. You trace possible routes. You get up to date with your journal. You enjoy an unscheduled break from driving. Mixed feelings are inevitable. Naturally it is frustrating to break down but there is no reason to panic. You console yourself with the thought of ringing an emergency hotline and being reassured by a smiling woman wearing a telephonist’s headset. You fantasise about being stranded in a remote area and carrying out the recommended emergency procedures:

•  Staying with the vehicle while all the time wondering if civilisation lies just over the horizon.
•  Rationing food and water without ever knowing how long it may have to last. The routine of dividing and measuring maintains a sense of purpose but may eventually cause anxiety.
•  Wearing appropriate clothing. A change of underwear at critical moments can be strangely moving.
•  Resting during the heat of the day even though your senses are screaming out for any sign of rescue.
•  Making a sunshade from a groundsheet which you laughingly recall was intended only for picnics.
•  Collecting water from a solar still without ever fooling yourself that you can live off the land.
•  Making appropriate air search signals while dismissing stories about planes passing blindly overhead. They are often used for dramatic emphasis only.

You reassure yourself that none of this is likely to happen. You know what the problem is and have faith in your ability to make a temporary repair which will see you through to the next town. Besides, this is a major highway and people will soon be stopping to offer assistance. You must then decide whether or not to accept their help.

When the engine has cooled, you fashion an ad hoc repair using improvised materials. You continue your journey – carefully – but not without a final lingering look at the anonymous place where you were stopped. By the time you reach the next town, you feel sufficiently confident in the success of your repair to keep going. You display a light-headed irresponsibility that makes you feel invincible.