The general lee is no more

We were all up at 7 packed and ready for a hard days driving/bribing officals at military check points, all cars started as we pull off, the general lee (vauxhall carlton painted like the dukes of hazard) spluttered and cut out.
Having two mechanics in our group we found it was no getting the fuel through, fuses check, filters changed, we hard wired the pump and discovered the pump was dead. I went 40k down the road with darren one of the mechanics while pat set about hand cranking the spare mechanical fuel pump we bought for the mini as a bodge.
In layoune I found fuel injection isn't really used. Most cars are twenty or more years old or diesel. This far south nobody speaks a word of english, and Gcse french didn't cover the finer points of asking for an inline high pressure injection pump. The was one little workshop where the guy was really helpful and sent his lad off all over town on a bike coming back with different bits but none that were right, the problem is 90% of fuel injection cars have the pump in the tank so it has to be an exact size. I asked if we could get a whole tank complete with pump off any make of car that we could put on the roof. He said no problem there was a place the other side of town but its too big for the bike and we have to drive. The didn't have a car and there were no taxis, so darren (who has never in his life left the uk befor!) Rather nervously offered to stay at the garage while I took the guy to this other place. Next thing I know the guys best friend wants a ride too so they both pile in the passenger seat and we are off around town they are grinning ear to ear and waving at people. The place we went to didn't have a tank, so we did a tour of all the local workshops. Eventually we got a mitsubushi inline pump and I went back so find darren a couple of local mechanics getting on like a house on fire (when I left him he looked worried they would cook him and eat him). They were all really helpful and when we gave them a carton of our bribe cigarettes they were over the moon. On the way back to camp darren came out with a comment good enough for only fools and horses " that bloke was teachin me the french for head gasket, they call it - le head gasket" well it made me laugh.
Back at camp pumpall hooked up and still it won't start, calls back to the uk to a vauxhall specialist and we decided its the E.C.U. That has gone, it fried the fuel pump on its way but lots of other things that should happen with the injectors that didn't meant it was terminal. The campsite owner told us it is very expensive to dump a car In morocco and we should tow it to the border, the rally organiser pointed out that although the car is on the passport number of simon, the driver. The mauritanian border doesn't have a computer so they won't know, we towed the car a longway off road and hid it behind a dune. Once we skip the country, I have the cell phone number of the mechanic and I'll tell him where to look so he can get it and strip it for parts. Meantime we are down to four cars and we spent the afternoon building a roofrack the a-team would be proud of, to go on the bronco. Its a squeeze but we got everything in, leaving at dawn to catch the main group! Just another day in the dunes ;)
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