So, I took it all apart ... lala gaga prevention ... the sequel is coming and more ...

The Dub was due for a wof and the door lock hasn't been functioning from outside. That wasn't going to get a pass from the inspector. The release lever felt like there was no spring tension and I'd put off attempting to fix it because I assumed it would be fiddly and little pieces would fly off everywhere once I tried to dismantle it. Not so. I had to remove the inside door panel and window winder and air vent and door pull and inner release lever first. Then access the screw holding the outer handle and lever to the main locking mechanism. Piece of cake. When I saw the back of the handle, I figured working on the grass and gravel was begging for me to lose something. So I went to my shed and cleared a patch of workbench.

I unscrewed the plate over the rusty mechanism beneath, wary of airborne springs as I lifted it off. A metal pin which the release lever pivots on had completely rusted through. The salt air by the coast makes short work of mild steel. I wondered if a nail would be the right diameter to replace the pin. Tried a few options. Not thick enough. I ended up cutting down a section of galvanised fence staple and fitted it then packed everything with grease before I screwed the retainer back on. Works great and should last a while now.

I often think about modern cars being irreparable, and how will current and future generations learn the joy of driving across country and having to troubleshoot and figure stuff out and make bodgy repairs and get to the next stop? Or not?

Building an emotional relationship with the machine that has gotten you from here to there, having to nut out problems, find workarounds, use processes of elimination to solve where the issue is and how to overcome it and keep moving forwards - it’s like any relationship; you either keep working at it or you give up on it. And if you choose the former, you eventually have this depth of history and knowledge and invested energy. Then sometimes when repeating the now familiar process you go through the motions and get to the next phase, again, but what you did last time doesn’t quite get you beyond there. So you have to figure out a new way.

If you want a foil to reduced brain capacity, work on an old car. Especially an old British car. Mgb’s are supposedly simple machines. Try fitting a reproduction clutch master cylinder into the housing for the brake and clutch MC’s and then tell me it's a straightforward fix. Scrabbling upside down in the driver’s side foot-well, using socket extension bars threaded through stiff bundles of 50year old wiring harness, trying to tighten a banjo bolt on the rear of said cylinder when you can’t fit a spanner on the other side of the MC mounting even though there’s a cutout hole and you have small hands and you’ve tried to get a magnet in there to retrieve a dropped socket, again, and you ended up zip-tying the plunger back into the body of the MC to get the bastard into the pedal box in the first place and you still have to bolt the fluid line into the banjo and not cross-thread it but the fittings are both at the rear of the pedal box under the bulkhead/firewall and you can’t get at them from inside the vehicle in the foot-well for the aforementioned reasons… Anyhoos … you do this palaver for every single replaced part or re-checked fitment or "gee, where do all these wires go"? And I swear, if all this doesn’t mitigate the approach of dementia, I can’t think of many more fun alternatives. Well, I probably can, but I have tunnel-vision and this is my chosen path; the myriad old vehicles saved from the crusher and oblivion that I throw my energy into.

Why? Partly because the pleasure of driving these beasties along endless dirt tracks by the coast or over long highway miles far from help when they don’t let me down is immense. My emotional input is rewarded. I don’t ride horses, but I imagine those who relied on an equine mate aeons ago as they traversed scary, exciting wilderness and unknowns, probably developed a similar connection with their travel mate.

The bumbles. The image above isn't exciting but the noise coming from the bottom of the woodpile is. That slightly brighter brown patch on left of centre is the entry and exit point to Bumbleworld. When you get close by the air vibrates and thrums with the beating of many tiny wings. The noise is kinda ominous and magical all at once. Luckily, bumbles aren't an aggressive species. It's hard to snap a pic of a bee on the go but if you position yourself anywhere near that flight-path and take off point, I can tell you, watch out. Incoming!

Aside from all that, on the writing front I’ve pretty much finished the first draft of the sequel to The Corrector, my newish series set here in Aotearoa, NZ. That means I’ll be re-writing during the early months of 2026 and launching the second-in-series late 2026. This will be my fifth book. Holy moley.

Then a return to the Cal Nyx series, ie; No 4.  I kinda miss Cal. She’s troublesome and out there and very fun to write. There are also a couple of standalones I’m keen to sink my teeth into eventually. Updates on the website or FB page.

My paperbacks are available at Books and Co, Otaki and can be ordered online for NZ buyers. For other markets, ebooks and paperbacks are available on Amazon. Thanks for your support and feel free to drop a line on the Contact page at kimhuntauthor.com. I'd love to hear from you. Happy summer peeps.

#DIY #butchonthetools #crimefictionauthor #yeahnoir #bumblebees