Aaaargh!
Chap came yesterday to collect a little old bit of furniture for repair. Then herself came in to say his car had got stuck nose down in the sort of Chesil Bank of one-inch pebbles that makes the steeply sloping parking area next to the house so hazardous for the unwary. Last couple of times this happened the cars were front drivers, but this was a big Volvo estate. Its driven rear wheels just spun and made clouds of smoke. I think he had stopped a bit briskly and lowered the engine and gearbox onto the ghastly pebbles. We tried bits of carpet, chunks and boards of wood, bricks... it wouldn't move. A lot of work with rakes and bits of wood at least got the car's belly off the ground, but still no go: smoke first from one rear tyre, then the other. Everyone turned out of both houses, although those with the most muscle were out and the heavyweight chimney sweep wasn't here to help. Still no go, after half an hour of faffing and effort.
Eventually it occurred to the furniture chap (who is very nice) to get us all to sit in the back seat and load area of the Volvo. That worked immediately and the flustered Volvo extracted itself.
Doh! That was the first thing we should have tried. Some bits of wood have been placed to deter people from doing this in future. My trousers are stippled with fine mud from kneeling on the damn pebbles and grovelling under that Volvo to make daylight appear under the engine and gearbox. Country life can be strangely exacting.
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Buried Volvo new
Buried Volvo new