The last journey of the Audi 80

That car was trouble when I was driving it, and I should have guessed it wouldn't leave without a fight. And my God, it gave a good one.

The guy was supposed to be coming in a recovery truck to get the Audi at about 6:00pm. By then though, it was raining, very windy and dark. I assumed by about 6:40pm that he wasn't going to come and settled down for the evening. But then at about 7:10pm he rang, saying he was coming up to where we agreed to meet.

So I head down in the Discovery and take him up to where the Audi is parked, as his truck is far too large to make it up the track. He has a look and says that he's happy to freewheel it down the track, following me in the Discovery so we can tow it if it stops. So he gets in, and I head off down the track. I realise he isn't following, and reverse back up. He asks where the keys are as the steering lock has come on.

That's my fault, I genuinely had thought they were in it. I dash into the house and get the keys and we try again. This time I head off down the track and once again, he doesn't follow, although I'm sure the Audi starts to move. I head back up and find that he has gone head on into a fence post because the steering lock jammed. He doesn't seem hugely fussed and asks if I have a hammer. While I'm looking for one, he borrows my wheelbrace and viciously attacks the dashboard. By the time I've found the hammer, the steering column is a shattered ruin, and he proceeds to absolutely pound the steering lock until it breaks up and he can steer. This takes some time - for the first time ever I curse German build quality. By the time the steering lock finally releases, there's nothing left of the instruments or the dashboard and fragments litter the seats and floor.

We push the car off the fencepost, which involved me holding the car still by myself while he quickly put the handbrake on, and try yet again. I was going quite quickly down the track but all I saw was the torch he was using to see where the car was going get closer and closer. Worried he was going to hit me, I accelerated and glanced at the speedo - 30mph down the track. I've never done anything like that speed on it for obvious reasons. On the flat bit the Audi slows down and I relax but then we hit the steepest part. I accelerate again and I hurtle round the corner at the bottom, hanging on for dear life as the Audi follows close behind. But it slows to a stop on the gentle slope up to where the recovery truck was parked. I suggest we pushed it up but he confidently said he'd reverse the truck up to where the Audi had stopped.

I watch in unbelievable tension as he manoeuvres the enormous truck past two of my neighbours houses and cars, with inches to spare. I was terrified that he'd hit a wall or a car and I'd have to explain what had happened. But his skills are honed and soon the truck is in place and the ramp lowered.

He asks me to steer the Audi onto the ramp as it's winched up - I agree with perhaps a little sadness - my last ever journey in the car. But then the driver's door refuses to open, forcing me to get in the passenger side, as if the car was having a final joke on me. He tightens the winch and I release the handbrake and take the transmission out of Park. The Audi is dragged slowly and unceromoniously onto the truck, making horrible grinding sounds all the way. It only dawned on me later that I hadn't actually checked the gearbox was in Neutral - I have a feeling it was maybe in Reverse, hence the hideous noises.

With the Audi loaded, and the V5 handed over, surely that was the end of the farce this had become? Nope, while he was turning off towards the village, two cars came from opposite directions. Now, this is a very quiet, largely single track rural road, and the odds of two cars meeting at this particular junction are quite remote. The odds of them meeting when there is a big fuck-off recovery truck blocking the road along with my car parked slightly awkwardly? Probably astronomically low.

God knows what the people in the cars thought. One of them was a rather nice Jaguar XJ6 whose owners I know by sight and there was me was pissing myself with laughter on the side of the road at the sheer ridiculous nature of the situation.

Finally, I was able to get back in the car and comfort the rather shaken dog, who had just had several rather strange trips up and down the track in the back of the Discovery.

I must give all credit the guy who came to take the Audi away. He was quite young, very Welsh, and he completely had a sense of humour about the whole thing. To be fair, he could have turned around at any point and said he couldn't do it. I can't imagine what it must have been like, hurtling down the track in a car with no brakes, impossibly heavy steering, no lights and a flat tyre.

So that's the somewhat strange tale of the Audi 80 and it's last journey.