Give Us A Brake

Why is it that whenever something special is planned, our Land Rovers pick that very moment to let us down?

- Mark Saville

It’s a cold, bright morning and I’m due to meet up with a mate from the Land Rover Series One Club to get a section of the chassis of Plimsoll, my 88-inch Series I, tidied up – the nearside rear bump stop support is rusty and needs replacing. Plimsoll hasn’t been on a decent run since his visit to Nene Valley Railway for a gala day a few weeks ago, so it’ll be good to blow away the cobwebs on the two-hour trundle deep into the Fens to where my pal lives.

I don’t get beyond the end of the road. The brake pedal sinks to the floor, taking my heart with it as I only just manage to stop at the junction. Not good.

I drive gingerly back home and don my overalls before phoning to cancel Plimsoll’s appointment with Messers Angle Grinder and MIG Welder. Ever the optimist, I’m hoping it’s just a duff seal in one of the wheel cylinders; I might still make it over to East Anglia this afternoon.

No such luck. A quick scan underneath fails to locate any signs of a leaking wheel cylinder, i.e. brake fluid dripping from a brake drum or dark, damp stains on the back plates.