To spare you from bombardment with pictures of my new Queen, I held these back for several weeks. The photos, taken in September 2009, show my fourth 4 in the grounds of Penshurst Place in Kent, England. What at first sight seems to be an absurd and unwise attempt to send my quatrelle across the skies by the force of nature's wind and fury alone, can actually be discredited as a load of hot air.

I had taken the car for its first major excursion in carrying my parents to the launch site of one of Branson's balloons. The venue was changed at the last minute due to rare northerly winds that would have carried my old folks directly into the Gatwick flight path. Indeed, even here several miles further out, several jets could be witnessed approaching at alarmingly low height above. Nonetheless, I bid goodbye to the happy couple as they sailed into space above, whilst I pursued sometimes precariously on sight from the left-hand side driving seat of the TL. Having followed them to a landing site somewhere south-east of Tunbridge Wells an hour later, I returned to Penshurst Place awaiting their own return in the high-flyers' minibus, following a lengthy wait during which time they sipped champagne in a field and paid their pennance in helping pack away the giant airship into the bewilderingly small bag in which it came.

These latter two images were shot at dusk as I waited in the grounds of the 14th century mansion. This was the end of Virgin's UK ballooning season for the year, and the fifth date on which my parents had attempted to fly. Fortunately, this time the winds were calm and the flight went ahead. So it was two joyous rides in one day for them, although my Queen Geanine caused a bit of a scene on the drive back in screeching around all the bends and roundabouts. Nothing to do with my aggressive chauffering but rather what turned out to be a slack fan belt.

It wasn't until weeks later that these continual squeals upon turning the ignition, upon rounding any bend particularly in second gear, the draining of the battery and the excessive consumption of fuel began to stir enough suspicion to make me actually get down and dirty under the bonnet, something I don't really have much enthusiasm for. I had earlier ruled out the fan belt due to the squeals being linked to only one gear, and their elimination upon switching on the heater. None of this made much sense to me and I don't know what the connection between those elements could be. Eventually, the noises became evermore constant regardless of gears or other instruments, and I discovered a slack belt.

I was determined to fix the issue myself, since it's one of those jobs that mechanics will always bang on about as an example of how simple and easy a Renault 4 is to fix. However, I also remember an occasion with my second R4, Nicolexia, when I drew up outside a Manchester garage following some overheating and a torn belt. The mechanic had a torrid time trying to access the necessary nuts, hampered by the scorching hot engine components all around. After several minutes huffing and puffing he managed the task and then waved me away demanding no fee. I plonked a fiver in his hand, for which he was most pleased, not least due to the presence next door of a pub. You have to bear in mind that this was Manchester circa the turn of the millennium, and some of the Joseph Holt pubs I frequented at the time charged only 99p for a decent pint of mild. Those were the days.

So, armed with just a quarter-inch socket set, I wasn't going to get very far in having a go myself at this most dastardly nut positioned awkardly down near the starter motor. I had to borrow additional tools from my dad, who lent a hand, quite literally, in giving it some extra welly with his superior arm strength. This 'simple' task was finally completed after about an hour of faffing around, but at least saved the excessive costs I would have faced down at my local garage, which not long ago charged me about fourteen quid just to replace a wire for the side light. The specifics of this job are difficult to explain in writing, something all too apparent from the nonsensical description given in my Haynes manual, but I did attempt to film a few brief moments from the operation, which have since been compiled into a tutorial found in the Technique section, here.

One other last comment for the meantime about my latest Renault 4: it has a rear demister that actually works! This is the first of my four models to date that can claim this accolade. For me, therefore, this is like a whole new feature added to the R4, and provides a prang of excitement each time I need to use it. Now there's no button on my dashboard that need go untouched. (Actually, there is, there's that fourth button alongside the demister, hazard and fog lights that was never employed on most GTL and TL models with the later dash. If you've found a use for yours, let us know what you did with it).