Sunday 3 February 2019

Sound and vision gone - on an important anniversary

Today was the tenth anniversary of Mum's death at midday on 3rd February 2009. I planned to take time out today to think about her.

At one point, with a West Country indoor show also in mind, I was actually considering a weekend away in the caravan. But the cold and snowy weather made me change my mind.

So instead I settled on an afternoon at Hindhead Common, where twenty-five years ago I would have accompanied Mum on long walks around the Devil's Punch Bowl. An appropriate place to ponder my relationship with her when she was alive, and what she means to me now.

It was a bright and quite mild day in my part of Sussex, and there was no reason to think it wouldn't be equally pleasant at Hindhead Common, in the south-west corner of Surrey. Of course, being a National Trust property, it was a Sunday-afternoon magnet for hoards of green-wellied Londoners and their children; but it was easy to avoid such people, and just enjoy the tranquillity, crisp air, and the views. And I expected to see a pretty good sunset there as the afternoon went on.

It was already past noon as I left home. I went first to Burgess Hill, to pick up a light lunch. Some sushi would do nicely. Back at Fiona, and still parked by Waitrose, I opened the pack of sushi and switched on the radio.

The radio display panel briefly flickered, then died. A bit odd, that!

Even odder when I'd finished my meal, and started the engine. I expected the radio (and that panel) to spring into life. It lit up, yes, but stayed resolutely blank. And no sound to be heard, not from the radio, nor from the parking sensors. Oh dear...

Normally the radio panel also told me the temperature on each side of the car interior (you can control them separately). And when the parking sensors bleeped, this panel would show me which part of the car was getting close to touching something. But I was getting none of that.

The larger panel below it, the one for the SatNav screen also stayed blank. Actually, not even lighting up. Which meant that when reversing I couldn't see whatever the rear-view camera could tell me. Another manoeuvring aid gone.

I had little doubt that there was in fact good DAB radio reception, that the parking sensors were alive and kicking, and that the camera was fixing whatever lay behind me with a basilisk-like gaze. But I'd lost sound and vision, and was now driving blind and deaf. Or at least without Fiona's indispensable visual and audio assistance. It's tricky driving a big car without the aids I've got used to over the last nine years!

The other instruments, whether analogue or digital, were working correctly. And all those buttons that lit up when switched to 'on' were shining brightly. Indeed, apart from these two central display panels, everything else seemed to be working as it should, and Fiona was completely drivable.

Still, I didn't fancy driving to Hindhead Common and back, an hour away, not without all my instrumentation!

I abandoned the afternoon's plans, and went home. Sorry, Mum.

I think I can guess what the trouble is. For some time there has been a buzzing or rattling noise coming from somewhere behind these two central console display panels. The source is hidden: there's nothing to see. I haven't yet wanted the dealer to investigate. But it sounds as if something has been working loose and vibrating against other bits. And now this. Well, I can easily imagine some wiring that had been plugged in - but gradually coming out of its socket - now finally coming adrift and making the display panels go blank. The vibration of a diesel engine when first starting up would be enough to accomplish this if the wiring was in any way loose.

If I'm right, this will be simple to correct - by plugging the wiring back in. That ought to cure the buzzing and rattling too. It's now time to let the dealer look at it.

So tomorrow I'll get Fiona booked in.

A pity that this has intruded into a day that I wanted to devote to Mum!

Sequel - same day
Even odder! I went out to the car, got in, and on impulse turned on the radio - it worked! I started the engine, and lo, both centre console panels came to life. Was it all just a temporary glitch? I'll keep an eye on this. I don't want to lose the sound and vision on those panels at some critical future moment, and would rather the dealer check it over anyway, not necessarily tomorrow, but definitely before I set off for Scotland in April!

Sequel - two days later
I dropped by at the dealer's and had a word with the Service Manager. He explained that if the ignition was off, my car would cut the radio and other equipment after a short while, to protect the charge level in the battery. This might lead to a situation where anything affected would need a reboot before it functioned again, just as a computer might. Not using the car for a while would reset the car's electrical systems, and that was why the screens and the sounds had come back later that afternoon. He really thought that was all it was, and that I could expect no further glitches. But of course, if there was a recurrence, then I should phone him and the car could then be looked at.

Well, this seemed fair enough to me. And so far, so good. Certainly, I'd discovered years ago that some sensors could malfunction without warning if forced to operate abnormally. Such as the sensor that warned me of a car in the blind spots on Fiona, which was apt to get confused at night, or if driving away from a sunset - in which case, it would flash at me in distress, and would have to be switched off until it recovered from its fit.

And yet that radio conked out almost as soon as I switched it on! Well, perhaps a lot of cold start-ups recently had been draining the battery, and there wasn't any juice spare for listening to the radio without the engine running. Maybe.

No comments:

Post a Comment


This blog is public, and I expect comments from many sources and points of view. They will be welcome if sincere, well-expressed and add something worthwhile to the post. If not, they face removal.

Ideally I want to hear from bloggers, who, like myself, are knowable as real people and can be contacted. Anyone whose identity is questionable or impossible to verify may have their comments removed. Commercially-inspired comments will certainly be deleted - I do not allow free advertising.

Whoever you are, if you wish to make a private comment, rather than a public one, then do consider emailing me - see my Blogger Profile for the address.

Lucy Melford