At about 130 km/h without any power from the engine it takes a while before the car comes to a complete stop. In Physics this is called inertia. It is a little bit more tricky when you are in the left lane with a row of lorries to your right. This calls for quick decisions and some delicate use of the steering wheel.
Anyhow. Don't ask me how, but we just managed to sneek in between the lorries to our right withouth being mashed to dust and then further onto relative safety at the right bank, and finally we stopped just meters from one of those yellow emergency telephone pole thingies that I always had wondered about how they worked. A couple of attempts to restart the engine were utterly waisted, and I had a growing suspicion that this had to be the electric fuel pump that feeds the Bosch D-Jetronic fuel injection system. When you turn the key on this car, the pump is supposed to hum for a split second before the starter engages. This hum was no longer there, and a quick check of the fusebox revealed nothing unusual. The relay clicked as it should, but the pump was simply dead.
After these quick checks I got the warning triangle out of the booth and positioned some meters behind the car. Next the Yellow Telephone. It was a bit disappointing actually; just a button underneath a speaker, and I pushed the button and waited politely for someone to answer me in my distress. After some sudden bippetibop from the speaker, a Dutch voice started to speak to me and I pronounced the usual "Hello, do you speak English?". Unfortunately for me, this showed to be a recorded message for Dutch speakers only, and it told me absolutely nothing. Nada. Several attempt gave the same fruitless result. And no stickers or signs of who to call, which could have been useful in my opinion as most people these days carry a mobile phone along. So did I, but with noone to call it's not that useful.
In the car I had a 25 year old Norwegian Road Guide which also contained a page with some numbers for needs abroad. These numbers were all completely useless. I then tried to call a few friends in hope that they were in front of their computer with Google at their fingertips, but then again they were all unavailable. So again, what to do as all means at my disposal gave me no results?
I suddenly realized I had forgotten the most obvious tool at hand. My dear Garmin was still on the dash happily displaying the map of Northern Holland, indicating precisely the spot where I had stranded with, most likely, a very dead fuel pump. I quickly pressed the screen to get the "Where do you want to go" menu, and from that list I choose Car Workshops. I called the first and best, and explained in English that I needed assistance at the Highway and I did not know who to call for that. A kind person at the other end quickly informed me that I had to call the ANWB and gave me a number. I was now back in business, and ANWB informed me that this would cost me €150 (did I have it in cash please?) and that it would take about one hour to get the rescue van to my site.
As promised, after about one hour a yellow Wolkswagen Transporter slowed down and parked in front of the Volvo. A very pleasant young man came out and told me that his English was limited but he could manage. I explained to him my suspicion about the fuel pump, and the guy immediately went for a hammer and then under the car to see if the pump would respond to some kicks which it did not. He also checked that the ignition was working and a few other obvious issues, but then decided that we had to leave our dangerous parking spot on the Highway. He quickly arranged a rope, and after five minutes we were off the Highway and in the middle of a small Dutch village.
I thought initially that the ANWB would ditch me as soon as they had brought me and my precious 38 year old Volvo at the nearest workshop after claiming their price, but that was far from the truth. Very far indeed. Now; parked much safer at a quiet spot in this Dutch village he opened the grand doors of his Transporter and revealed a fully fledged rolling workshop. In some seconds the Volvo's rear end was jacked high up in the air and secured on some stands, and the guy tried once more to awake the dead pump with his hammer. It did not work as at his first attempts, and I had already started to wonder how I should manage to find parts for this old car and have it repaired in a remote place like this. But the Dutch mechanic had not given up hope. He returned to his van and came back with two rather thick cables and went again down to the dead fuel pump under the car. I suddenly heard the familiar hum for a split second. What was this?
It showed that the ANWB van was equipped to kickstart heavy trucks which usually need 24V instead of the 12V used in most smaller cars. It was the 24V cables that he had stretched to the fuel pump and used to revive the sleeping Bosch contraption, and it actually worked. He then replugged the pumps electrical connections and asked me to try the starter. The engine immediately started with its usual loose teeth purring along as if nothing had ever been wrong with any of its auxiliaries. Weird by all means!!
With the Volvo humming on idle and down from the jackstand, we discussed what to do next. I had already explained my intention to reach Rotterdam by next day for the ferry to Hull, but I also knew about a dealer in parts for classic Volvo's not far from that part of the country who probably could both sell me a new pump and have it replaced. The guy was still sceptic about rehitting the Highway, because the fuel pump had an obvious problem that could cause it to stop at any time. We then agreed to go together to another village and see a workshop that could have a more durable fix, and off we went.
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