Part two of Baltic Blunders.

Kristi and I had just spent two lovely weeks in Estonia with Kristi’s family and friends and then touring through Sweden and Norway. We landed back at Manchester airport, didn’t have to wait too long for our luggage, and found even the sun had come out while we waited just a couple of minutes for the bus to take us to the offsite car park. Things seemed to be going well, a little too well. Sure enough my usual luck was soon to catch up with us.

We arrived at the car park and got the keys. Went to open the car using the remote locking, but nothing happened. Tried it again, and still nothing, so I opened the door the good old fashioned way, with the key. The door opened fine, although the alarm, being controlled by the remote, went off. This presented a bit of a problem. We could get into the car, but there was no way to turn the alarm off, and not wanting to drive all the way from Manchester to Shrewsbury with the car alarm blearing away and lights flashing, I thought I’d better get it sorted.

Unfortunately I was not part of any break down service, so I decided to bite the bullet, phone up the RAC, join them and get them out ASAP. Finally, an hour and a half later, a van arrived. The guy first tried the obvious, changing the battery in the remote, checking some electrics in the car. Eventually he gave up, took out the wire that sets the lights to flash, and removed the claxon itself. Unfortunately these claxons come with a built in battery in case a thief attempts this very same thing. The only thing for it was to get a sleeping bag out of the boot, wrap it around the alarm to muffle it and stick it in the boot of the car. After what must have been about three hours, we were at last on our way home. What an ordeal.

Previous part of this story: To Fly Or Not To Fly