A family trip driving across Spain to our flat in Fuengirola and back.

A Boiling Summer

It went better than we hoped.

Eventually, in one piece, we made Fuengirola. “Now we can have the car looked at.” said Marjorie.

“Not likely. We have wasted enough time on it”. Was my reply.

Places visited probably included Malaga, Caves of Nerja.Tivoli Amusement Park, local Zoo, beaches making sandcastles and sand modelling.

We also visited the hillside village of Mijas, and made the most of the P.Y.R Hotel swimming pools.

And so it was, after two or three weeks carefree weeks at the flat, all that was now required was to carefully drive back the 700 miles to Santander.

Back in England the car never again showed any signs of its Radiator boiling!. Odd Eh?!

In August 1978 when David was only about 3 months old, we, (Marjorie, myself, Andrew, Susan and David) decided to go to our Fuengirola Flat, but to travel by car overland to Fuengirola.

(Actually--- we decided for David).

Sailing from probably Portsmouth, we crossed the choppy Bay of Biscay to disembark at Santander on Spain's North Coast.

Near here we stayed at our first Parador. (A Parador is a Spanish Hotel, owned and administered by the Spanish Government, a sort of cross between a hostel and a hotel).

It was a very old building with suits of armour on the stairs. Next day we set off on our 700 mile cross Spain drive.

We were climbing very steep hills, and before the day was out our cars radiator was boiling up.

This problem continued for the next day, with us constantly stopping whilst the radiator cooled.

Eventually we had to call out the Vehicle Rescue we had subscribed too, and they took us all the way to Madrid to have the issue sorted.

They decided to drop us at a garage, but what kind of car did we have? It was, in fact, a Hillman Hunter Estate. I knew this as I had enquired from one of my office partners when completing the car breakdown insurance forms.

The car was duly dropped at a Madrid Car Dealers and we were dropped off at a small hotel on a very main road. All our clothes and babies requirements were stacked in piles in the car, to save messing with cases.

This didn't help when sorting what needed to go to the hotel. Next morning I left the accommodation, to visit the Garage that had the car. On arrival I found a huddle of gentlemen in suits looking rather disdainfully at our forlorn looking vehicle.

It was covered in road dust, full to the gunnel with clothes and holiday gear, and, more to the point, it didn't fit any of the words emboldened on the Showrooms walls. The words Daimler, Rolls Royce, Cadillac rang a discordant note even to myself, a non-car person.

It was evident that our car did not belong here.

A mechanic was called who explained in pidgin English that they were ordering a taxi and I should follow this to a more appropriate garage. An hour later, in a different part of Madrid, I was trying to converse with a different garage, having had to take a ticket to queue to be dealt with.

“Whata make your Car?” “Hillman”

“Whata make eez Hillman?” “Hunter”

“Eez theez Hillman or theez Hunter English car?”

“Yes, I suppose so, it was purchased in England”.

“Leyland? Breeteesh Leyland?”

“ I suppose so !”

At this point, the bonnet was raised and a search was made.

“Ah!” said a mechanic. “Leetle Star...Cristler”.

“Yes, Chrysler, English!!”

“ Ah No, No, Cristler no English! Is Mericano. You wronga playsar!”

And so it was that another taxi was ordered and once again I set of across Madrid with one eye on the taxi ahead and one eye on the temperature gauge.

It was third time lucky. This next garage had heard of Hillman and they could deal with things. What was the matter with it they asked..

“Thermostat, Termastata, Hot, Boilingio” were my attempts to get understanding. Another mechanic was called and he spoke a little English.

“Yes, Thermostat, I can sort that. All I do is take out Thermostat!” (Throwing away motions).

“Excellent. Take out old thermostat and put in new thermostat! OK!”

“No. Take out and throw away. That is all”

“That cant be right. If my car has a fitting and you take it out then you must replace it with another termastata”.

“OK, if wish, can do. Will take about 4 weeks to get part from UK and get back on roads”.

“Four weeks!!! We are heading to Mallaga and the coast. We have a baby and everything is in piles, loose in the car!!”

“Four weeks is all!!!”.

“SH..!”

It was now midday siesta time and the garage was closing, so I decided to report back to Marjorie.

But Problem. Big Problem. (And I don't mean the car). Where was I and where was Marjorie??? I had been driving all over Madrid and had not made a note of the Hotel name and address we were staying at.

After all, it was just round the corner from the Garage. I will not bore the reader with details of the next hour or so. There were, of course, no mobiles in those days!!

Suffice it to say we were eventually reunited. It was agreed that a four week wait in hot, stuffy, Madrid, paying for hotel accommodation etc was not to be considered.

So it was decided that I would relocate the car (Oh Dear!!) and remove it from the garage, and we would then continue on, boiling up, or not, as we went.

Fortunately the car was the last one in the queue in the garage, and siesta was not yet finished, so I was able to retrieve it. I left a note in the letterbox. “Dont call Us, but we may call You!”

We purchased a detailed road map that showed all major hills. At each large hill we stopped at the bottom, timed at least 5 minutes with no big wagon going past, then set off uphill.

If we boiled then we stopped and had a picnic and washed the nappies etc.

'Normal Neville' Wiseman's wife marjorie doing washing (mostly nappies) by Spanish roadsid