It was 6:30 on a Friday evening when the call came through. A young lady on her way to an equestrian event — just five miles out — had broken down. She was upset, and fair play, you could hardly blame her. All that prep, all that planning, and now she was staring at the side of the road with a horse in the back and a van that wasn’t going anywhere.
By the time I arrived, she was safe, just shaken. The horse? Cool as a cucumber. But she was in bits — mostly frustration, I think.
That kind of gutted, “so close yet so far” feeling. I gave her a moment and then got to work.
Now, based on what she told me — van suddenly lost power, wouldn’t go anywhere — I had a sneaking suspicion we were into transmission territory. But once I popped the hood, well, the real culprit was plain as day. The drive belt was gone. Vanished. And the reason? The drive belt tensioner pulley had sheared clean off. Not loose. Not cracked. Gone.
Let me level with you — this wasn’t the most lovingly maintained vehicle. That’s often the case with recreational motors. Occasional use tends to mean occasional maintenance — or none at all.
I asked her about a strong smell of clutch I’d picked up as I walked up. She nodded, said it sometimes gets stuck in fifth gear. Apparently, as she came off the highway, it wouldn’t shift out. So she tried to get going again — in fifth. You can imagine how that went. Cue: clutch smoke show.
With the pulley MIA and no spares on hand, I knew we weren’t driving this away in tip-top shape. I told her, “It’s a tow job, I’m afraid.”
Turns out, the van wasn’t just her horsebox — it was her weekend accommodation too. So now, in her mind, the whole trip was going up in smoke. That’s when I made the call: “Look, the water pump on this one is timing belt-driven, so technically, it can limp a short way without the drive belt — no alternator, no power steering, but we won’t cook the engine.
Steering’ll be like turning concrete, mind.” But she was game.
Still, that clutch smell had me wary. I told her there was a chance we were dealing with more than one issue. Only way to know was to try and fire her up. But this van? She wasn’t going to make it easy.
Battery? Dead flat. No worries, I had the jump pack ready. Still nothing.
Next thought: clutch lockout switch? Immobilizer? All fine. Then I applied 12 volts directly to the starter solenoid. Nothing. Dead. And the starter? Looked like it’d been dredged up from the bottom of the sea.
To rule out a seized engine — you never know — I slotted it into top gear and let her roll a few feet downhill. Engine turned over clean. So that was something.
But it was clear — we weren’t getting this wagon running tonight. Flatbed job — more tears.
That’s when I offered a different route: “We’ll tow you to the event tonight. You’ll still get there, horse and all. On Monday, we’ll tow it again — this time to a garage of your choosing. Deal?” Her whole face lit up.
“Listen,” I said, “in a months time, you’ll be laughing at the whole thing. Might even be one of the best weekends ever, it’s all an eventure.”
Sometimes roadside rescue ain’t about fixing the vehicle — it’s about fixing the day. We got her there. The horse made it to the event. And that, for a Friday night, was a win in my book.
Until next time, keep the reins tight and the van tighter.
— Northcap
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Meet Northcap, a seasoned mechanic and roadside assistance expert with over 20 years of hands-on experience. At Rustyautos.com, Northcap shares exclusive insights into what really breaks down in cars, offering practical tips and real-world advice to keep drivers informed and their cars on the road.