The last South African leg: mechanics & generosity.

When your car whines don’t turn up the radio.

Part way through our trip we noticed Bruce was whining, a whine that may have been undetected masked by some seriously rattly windows when we bought him. During our Lesotho leg, a land that isn’t short on mountains, the whine turned into a rattle and then a death bed cough. We had to turn back during a beautiful but tortuous dirt path and thankfully made it back to South Africa via a more management gravel road, including Sani Pass which is pretty smooth these days.

We left Lesotho via Sani Pass for one key reason; it was the closest border post to Durban, a port of Land Rover parts. The day after arriving in SA again we were on our way to a mechanic when the rattly cough morphed into screaming (even in neutral). Oh yes, Bruce had a teething problem.

At the mechanic’s – we were towed there by a truck called Unicorn, named for its questionable existence - the transfer case was drained. Instead of 3L of oil, half a cup dribbles out with some metal filings. Turns out the Cape Town mechanic hadn’t topped up the transfer oil like we asked before we left for our Trip – nor a couple of the other fluids also requested. The silver lining was a great mechanic in Boston, South Africa, gave us a crash course in how to change the transfer box, how to check all the oils and fluids, how to change some worn bits and pieces and to top it all off he even fixed an oil leak in the engine – with no added cost. He also pointed out most of these things should’ve been picked up by the Roadworthy inspection. Life’s lessons in buying a second hand truck (now we know the real value of a socket set i.e. R6000 in avoided repairs).

Luck was generally on our side as the mechanic had a transfer case in stock and Bruce was happy as Larry within a day. We then caught up with some friends fit and crazy enough to run the Comrades Ultra-marathon in Durban before picking up more Bruce parts for replacing.

I love Durban. Everyone I’ve met who hails from Durbs has a great sense of humour. For example: we were in an auto shop buying electrical cable to hook up our second battery and the sales guy scans the black and red cables, frowning. “That’s strange,” he says, “the red cable is showing up as more expensive than the black even though it’s the same. Well, I guess that’s xenophobia for you.”

We had an extended stay in Durban because every time something was replaced or fixed, we’d find another part of Bruce that was worn. The Boston mechanic had told us you don’t own a Land Rover, you have a relationship with it. The Landy Parts for Africa guy told Andrew to stop going under the car. While trying to replace some rod ends Andrew realised the instructions that said “unscrew end” forgot to mention a vice and an angle grinder were also required (‘twas a pirate part that wasn’t the right length). He visited a renowned Landy mechanic by bike – covered in grease, and riding with the rod in one hand. All the guys had joked last time we swung past (just for an immobiliser mind you) that the bikes were our recovery vehicles. To see it in real life gave them a right ol’ chuckle and they replaced the tie rod ends for free! They even ferried us around town getting the parts required.

That’s the thing about South Africa, while there are unprofessional people there are also incredibly generous spirits who do things unasked, just out of decency.

After Bruce was whole again we hightailed it out of Durban, hoping we wouldn’t have to order a spare part again for the next 8 months. I missed Durbs as soon as we hit the highway Northbound, of all the cities I’ve been to in SA it’s my favourite. Finding an Indonesian restaurant during our last visit only cemented this deeper.

We’re in Maputo, Mozambique now and my dancing shoes are on stand by. Like I would leave them at home. I’m not sure where home is anymore, every time someone asks me to fill out a form I hesitate between Australia and South Africa. Somehow SA crept into that territory.