Living with a Shatchback: chapter 2

90s cars General Bunk Shatchbacks
Graeme loves his Peugeot 306 Shatchback so much, he's taken to having the odd shower with it. You could say that his love of Shatch is blossoming.

Graeme is back on PetrolBlog. You may remember he bought a Shatchback. You may also remember he fell in love with it. Well now, the love appears to be blossoming. He's even taken to having the odd shower with it...

Once, when I was a younger chap - I'm older now but still 100% a chap - I owned a Mk2 SEAT Toledo. It was blue, which was probably the most interesting thing about the Leon-with-a-boot. It inspired no emotion in me whatsoever.

Sure, it accomplished all the things a car should do with moderate aplomb, but that was about it. It went forwards when I put the gearstick in 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5, and then backwards when I put it in 'R'. Upon twirling the circular thingamajig, it went in the direction of twirl. It was everything a car needed to be.

But it leaked, which was annoying, so I swapped it for an E34 BMW 530i V8. But that’s a story for another time.

The newly-acquired Peugeot Shatchback - introduced here - also leaked. I say leaked because it now has a blob of marine-grade sealant on the base of the roof aerial, which I’m assured will start to cure when wet. It better work, because I'm growing tired of my 306's optional and unwelcome in-car shower.

There’s also an alarming squeak from the rear beam when I park up. I’m fairly sure the handbrake shouldn’t be in contact with my chin before it bites. Unless this was yet another optional extra on the Peugeot 306?

I’ve unimaginatively christened the car 'Joe', because - go with me on this - when you say Peugeot out loud, it sounds like Purr-Joe. Still with me? Hello...

Living with a Shatchback: Peugeot 306

I've also treated the Pug to its first documented service in 100,000 miles. Given the condition of the engine bay and my knowledge of the car's previous owners, I know it’s actually had more. And who reads documents on a £350 car anyway? I count myself lucky that I don’t have to use my feet to propel it to work, as a certain Mr Flintstone might.

There’s an amusing sense of shameful joy when plodding down the motorway in an ageing Shatchback. I tend to stick to less than the national speed limit, because in today’s congested times, when my fellow drivers seem to think that – in lane terms at least – 'more right equals more fast', I get a sort of perverse joy from being the only one on the left. Crack on I say, and observe the finance balloon payment that's looming on the horizon, whilst I go about my business in debt-free bliss.

The fact that while I do so, I'm only spending 12 pence per mile on fuel, is also comforting. Look after the pennies and the Shatchback will look after the pounds.

With the cold weather coming, my next mission is to replace the glowplugs. The old XUD engine is an absolute nightmare to change the plugs on, because two are hidden behind the throttle assembly. I'll save that update for next time.

I may be some time...