The weekend of the annual Maserati Club concours was fast approaching and after two years judging, I decided this year to enter the concours with my modest Ghibli MY94.

The car hadn't been used since its last trip back in April and the battery needed re-charging. A glimpse under the bonnet seemed to confirm that the engine needed a wash. So come Friday morning, I duly covered all the electrics with 'Cling' film, sprayed the engine with 'Gunk', waited a few minutes and hosed the engine down with a jet spray. I then removed the cling film, blew compressed air over all the electrical connections, fuses and relays to make sure everything was dry and fired up the engine. Good, she started first time - no problems there!

My car was now washed, polished, and the interior given a quick wipe over and a good hoovering. My Ghibli was now ready to take on the Maserati world! Or so I thought!

Saturday afternoon I set off for the Hanover Hotel near Brinkley to attend the Annual AGM and the pre-concours dinner. It was a sunny day and not wishing to arrive too early, I cruised northwards up the M5 at a steady 70 mph. After about 30 or so miles, 50 mph warning lights warned of a contra-flow system ahead. This together with an earlier accident had caused a 3 mile tail-back, I slowed down and joined the 'queue' and listened to a Brook Benton CD and hadn't a care in the world! But life isn't always that easy for the Maseratista and with the cooling fans at full blast and the air-conditioning on high, the warning light on my voltmeter started flashing. It was then that I noticed the voltage reading on the voltmeter was beginning to drop. When it reached 11 volts I decided to pull over onto the hard shoulder.

I had just passed the junction 9 northbound slip road and carefully reversed back down the hard shoulder out of harm's way. I parked just ahead of a base set up in the slip road for emergency rescue vehicles. I called the RAC informing them of my plight and that a tow back to my home address would be required and was told that help would be with me within 30 minutes. Being a hot afternoon, I took out a chair and a can of Coke and relaxed reading a magazine whilst help was on its way.

Within a few minutes a tow truck began reversing down the hard shoulder of the slip road. Ah! help has arrived I thought. I got up and walked towards the reversing tow truck. The driver then stopped his vehicle, got out and walked towards me. Just as I was about to thank him for his quick reponse, you can imagine my amazement when instead of coming to my aid, he hurled a mouthful of abuse including "What the 'F****** Hell' are you doing picnicking on the hard shoulder of a motorway." I wanted to explain that I had broken down and was awaiting the RAC but he wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways continuing his foul-mouthed lecture on the 'dangers of picnicking on the hard shoulder of a motorway'. Eventually when he had calmed down, I was able to explain that sitting on the grass verge of a motorway wasn't my idea of a good time, that my car had broken down and that I was awaiting assistance from the RAC.

I moved my car to a spot that kept him happy and awaited the RAC. Sure enough within half an hour the RAC arrived, the car was loaded up and I was on my way home.

It was then that I experienced that warped sense of humour that only wives possess when I asked if I could borrrow her car to continue my journey. I had a spare alternator in the garage but was in no mood to get down under the car and replace the faulty one on a hot Saturday afternoon!

The story continues ...