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If you've known me for any reasonable length of time (around 15 minutes or more) you probably know that I am, and pretty much always have been, obsessed with Volkswagen camper vans.

This obsession started a dozen-or-so years ago when my family borrowed a camper from family friends, The Ashbys - the lovely folks behind Bristol Volksfest, for a camping holiday in Scotland. At this time I was still a resident of The South (close to Bristol City FC since you were asking) and so the trip to Scotland in a 25+ year old vehicle was no mean feat!

If my childhood memories are correct, we made it a little over half way before the unfamiliar territory of the hard shoulder became an unscheduled stopping point. With instructions to the recovery vehicle to simply follow the dotted line of oil we left in our wake, the camper van escapade had started well.

After lengthy tow to my aunty and uncles farm in Scotland my dad was able to chuck on some overalls and sit under the bus to work out what had brought us, and our proposed camping holiday, to such a halt: a blown engine. Great.

Well after a few days of an impromptu adjustment of holiday plans my father had the old girl running again using magic, wizardry and a ver Heath Robinson boot lace, no doubt. So back on the road we were to head, this time homeward bound, as our short leisure break was coming to an end.

A mere mile after setting off another call was put in to the lovely recovery services requesting a lift home!

This was my first contact with the majestic VW Type 2, and I'm sure now you've had an insight, you might think I am simply mad for wanting one for myself. True. Nobody sensible goes out and buys a vehicle that is over 30 years old, do they?

Well I have gone and done just that: my long awaited dreams have finally come true in the shape of a pink (no, seriously) 1971, right-hand-drive, tin-top, bay window type 2 crossover model!

I would love to have some pictures to upload with these words, but sadly those must wait a little while longer. Just use your imagination; you all know what these lovely machines look like, right? Now take that image and apply rust, cracks and some seriously pink paint below the white[ish] roof and voilà; lovely, isn't it?

So why aren't you being treated to pictures just yet? Well, as I am sure you have already guessed quite correctly, the van is sat on the back of an RAC recovery vehicle making its slow journey north. I picked up the van from Havant, near Portsmouth, on Tuesday 11th January 2011 and began the 270 mile return journey to the bright lights of The North.

As my Pa and I drove down that morning and the fun and games with paperwork (tax and insurance), by the time we were ready to hit the road the light was starting to fade. A quick check of the lights turned in to a half hour of tweaking and testing till we got them all working again. Ready and raring to go the keys were placed in to my eager little mitts and off we drove in to the sunset.

Only to stop at the end of the sellers road due to a sudden loss of power (ha)! Luckily this was just a case of one of the battery connections hopping off and so was an easy fix. Back on the road we went with our first stop being the local Asda petrol station a couple of miles down the road which we made without a hitch. I filled her up and was just pootling off when the soon-to-be-familiar flashing from my father in the following Ford made me stop and park up at the end of the forecourt. "Your back lights have stopped" was the grumbled diagnosis.

After much fiddling everything was working again and I am happy to announce that I am fairly certain I can perform this minor wiring surgery myself upon next requirement (did I mention that I am a novice when it comes to electrics, bodywork and mechanics?). For those of you keeping score that is breakdown number 2, and so far we have only covered a couple of miles!

Once again we were on the road and pretty soon we were on the motorway where I could really stretch the vans legs. What a fun ride! Underpowered, slightly unpredictable yet somehow completely adorable. I am already in love.

We must have covered a good 75 miles before I pulled off at a motorway service station. Don't worry, this stop was for me and not for my new ride. I didn't feel too comfortable driving without being able to feel my fingers and toes! Whilst this van does have heat exchangers allowing for hot air from the engine (which, remember, is wayyy at the back of the vehicle) to be blown in to the cab - they didn't seem to be working - leaving my poor extremities to feel the pinch of the wintry conditions even through my gloves!

So Pa and I swapped places after we decided that we weren't going to manage the remaining journey that day and took a minor detour to stay at his sisters in Oxford. Back on the road in the more modern motor I cranked the heat up to full and was treated to the beautiful view of my new motors' behind for the next 10 minutes till we took a brief stop at a Tesco to pick up some dinner. Loaded up with some grub, the obligatory beers, and a wee gift for my aunty for putting us up for the night we trotted merrily back to the van... only to find that it would not start: breakdown #3! I snuggled the Ford up to the back of the camper and attached the jump leads. Weirdly she didn't start on first attempt, but after a little patience the exhaust exhaled its obnoxiously loud, yet somewhat appealing, note. This would be the last of our problems and we parked up in Oxford, had tea, a couple of pints and hunkered down for some well earned sleep.

To be continued...