ham ham ham

A few days after the last feverish bout of slag-poking, I tried to start the thing up again only to discover that the ignition system didn't want to play. A brief discussion with the rest of the gang drew us to the conclusion that the after-market alarm and immobiliser was probably to blame. Reasoning that the track slag was (for a variety of reasons) a far less appealing prospect for potential car thieves since we had taken over ownership, we agreed that the alarm was infinitely more trouble than it was worth and it had to go.

Trouble is, of all the things on the car that we know nothing about, the electrical system is the thing that we know the most nothing about. Or the least. In any case, removing the glove box to find this...

...didn't exactly fill us with enthusiasm.

Still, we'd made our minds up by this point. To take on this Herculean task we had me (not a great start), two different sets of wiring diagrams (which seldom agreed with each other, and frequently didn't seem to have anything to do with the car at all) and a RoboJew, who turned up with a toolkit full of all sorts of exciting electrical jiggery-pokery. For a while we attempted to make sense of what was what and formulate some kind of plan; but eventually we got bored and just started to make educated guesses as to which wires should be cut and reconnected.

Distinguished careers in the field of bomb disposal await neither of us.

Matt turned up just as we were tidying up the last bit of wiring, the hideous tangle of alarm-death-misery having been removed and unceremoniously dumped on the ground next to the car.

Seemingly satisfied with our efforts, he declared the whole shenanigan to be a rousing success before graciously taking all the credit when the slag fired up first time. What a great guy.

Since then, the battery has drained itself all over again. *sigh*

Meanwhile, Mahmond the Iranian has seemingly disappeared; which has given me more time for toy soldiers. Behold!

This ye olde dreadmob may look to some like a ramshackle bunch of metallic eggs on legs with silly claws; and in fairness, that's because that is exactly what they are. But they'll sure settle Smithy's hash...