For the longest time my Dad and I have been interested in the written works of Bernard Cornwall, Specifically the stories of Sharpe, a fictional rifleman during the Napoleonic war and which had a series of films made staring Sean Bean as Sharpe himself. After my GCSE's, we decided to go to Spain for a few days and take a road trip to see all the famous sites of the War that were immortalised in film and print. Specifically our travels took us to Talevera, Badajoz, Ciudad Rodrigo and Salamanca.
Our story today takes place in the middle of the middle 2 locations - Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo. These are two castle towns that are placed along the Spain/Portugal border (we did enjoy ourselves by driving over the border and back) that were crucial to the English Armies advancement into Spain. We had spent the night in Badajoz and intended to drive up the border to Ciudad Rodrigo. We managed to get about halfway along the border (the two towns being placed at either end of the country) when our rental car started juddering alarmingly. We both couldn't figure out what was wrong - the road was straight and the countryside hadn't encroached too much. Then we thought back to half an hour earlier: we had stopped at an old petrol station, the kind were some random dude will fill the car up with petrol for you. We connected this problem to the fact that our car was diesel - the pillock on the pump had put the wrong petrol in.
Being adult gentlemen we decided to approach this problem rationally - then chucked out that plan and panicked, especially since we were miles away from anyone who spoke english. I had been taking a class in Spanish in my secondary school but I didn't have a clue what "we've got the wrong petrol in the car" is in spanish.
We somehow managed to drag the car all the way to the next petrol station, which luckily was placed opposite the road from a renault garage, less luckily considering the fact our car was a toyota. I had practiced what I could in the car and had strung together the phrase "car broken, help" which I tried on the people in the station with no small amount of miming. They stared at my like a looney, but after a while they got the gist. They helped us out, especially by getting the garage people across the road to agree to help. Needless to say me and Dad were stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do for a couple of hours whilst repairs were being made. After 2/3 hours and a petrol station sandwich we got the car back, although with dire warnings that it would need a complete engine fix soon - oh well what the rental company don't know, won't hurt us.
But if I ever find that moron who used the petrol pump on the border, I promise to thump him straight in the nose.
But if I ever find that moron who used the petrol pump on the border, I promise to thump him straight in the nose.
