WHAT WAS THE CASH POINT IN THAT?: (Somewhere in Bosnia)

So it was always going to happen - you buy a vintage car cos it looks pretty and you so know you're going to end up stranded in some loony place where noone understands a word you're saying and a very moustached gentleman dismantles your car with a view to charge you inordinate amounts of money. Ahh, like I've said before, stereotypes are a real time saver.

Well we were correct on the inevitability of breaking down - it was just a case of when. We bought a pretty sound car all up, with only 80k on the clock and a more than sturdy engine that any grease monkey could work over - none of this new-fangled computerised nonsense. Still, we were thankfully wrong on all our other hackneyed ideas. Driving through the middle of nowhere, conquering a mountain pass and enjoying an excursion of the Bosnian Forest parks, we were out running the weather that the ol' motor isn't so keen on, and it finally happened. Thankfully, we came to a halt right outside a restaurant, where there was a group of English speaking lads (not so common here), and they knew 'the best mechanic in town'! Woohoo…how lucky was that?!! We're saved.

Within 10 minutes, we'd been kindly pushed off the road into a field opposite, offered Turkish tea and some chit chat, and the mechanic was beginning to tinker about. Out came the front driver panel, out came the light covers in the boot. It's an electrical problem. Sounds about right, that engine's bomb proof, but we do enjoy the occasional quirk with the heating and things. With our big plan to get through Bosnia in a day on our way to Andy & Sam for dinner in Hungary, we had a picnic lunch and no local cash. Holy smoking spark plugs batman! Next thing you know, we're being driven to a cash point by a couple of guys in central Bosnia.

Thankfully we weren't robbed and left for dead with our car up on bricks when we got back. Rather, the everso kind gentlemen returned us to a smug looking mechanic, who'd fixed our car (it was a blown fuse - 20p part) with the slightly quirky adjustment of having to turn our lights on to start it. He rigged up the petrol pump to the lights. Basically, if we turn off our lights now, we stop. This isn't going to roll with the Bosnian police. We've gottsta get outta here.

For his troubles, and he'd been there over three hours mind, we were expecting the worst. He could have charged anything - we had our backs up against the wall. After a bit of head scratching and cheek puffing, he gave me a good hard look and told me " 10 Euros please"…in Bosnian. He wouldn't even let me tip him.

So what did we learn from this wee exercise. "Don't follow leaders an' watch those parking' meters"…words of wisdom from Bob? Dump your stupid stereotypes at the border? We're figuring it all out.