It's hard asking for help at the best of times.

When I was asked if I'd like a car blog for my cooking Focus here on Drive Cult, I turned it down. My car, trusty as it is, lacks any sense of sparkle or wonder, and instead just carries on performing faithfully, picking up the odd new scuff or rattle for its trouble. Until it stopped.

Returning from the shopping centre, I got in and turned the key...and nothing. My memory is already mixing with what I later learned, but honestly all I heard was an engine trying to start. Starter motor, things turning, but no throaty revs. A quick look under the bonnet, and the front bumper, showed everything present and nothing covered in oil or petrol. Turning, but no ignition. I had to call the breakdown service.

It's a somewhat humiliating experience. I'm a mildly mechanical chap, and I know the science of how a car works. I should be able to fashion a fix out of the car key, a flyer for the 2007 Melbourne Art Trail and whatever I've been meaning to throw away behind the passenger seat. I should be able to make this work. In reality, I couldn't even find the fuel filter. The call to the breakdown service where I tried to use any vaguely mechanical sounding language to impress the uninterested call centre bod only added to my sense of uselessness. His disinterest, followed by the recovery chap knowing the likely cause just by putting his hand over an open oil cap, made me realise just how little I actually know.

“I reckon your cambelt has gone.”

Prying back the cambelt cover showed the cambelt was still present, but defying the convention of being a single continuous belt. The Focus was unceremoniously loaded onto the back of the recovery truck, like a horse with a limp insisting everything is still ok. I'm now waiting for the call from the garage to see just how many of the valves are misshapen lumps of scrap metal. My only hope is that the car was stationary when the belt went, so the damage may be limited. Once the garage have a chance to open up the motor, we'll see what the bill runs to.

My Focus isn't from Maranello, it's never done an epic drive to Le Mans, the Stelvio Pass or the Nürburgring. Few would ever lust after it. However, she, if you're being French about it, has been the base for camping trips, has moved a couch and has been my refuge from the madness of the working day every Monday to Friday. This is my Focus. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. My Focus is my best friend. Without me, my Focus is useless. Without my Focus, I am rather inconvenienced.

This leaves me in a bit of a pickle, for two reasons; I'm currently the only Cultist who doesn't actually have a working car (unless I get my Tamiya Hornet rebuilt). Secondly, the lack of a drive or garage (or money) means I don't have a fun car I can press into service, and my fleet currently numbers 1, excluding those cars made by Minichamps or the Sunstar Toy Company. I have my girlfriend's car for when we need to go to the shops, or when I'm working out of hours, but otherwise I'm on the bus.

Right now, that's far more terrifying than what the repair bill might be...

• Tweet