Twelve days ago I climbed into a £700 Renault Laguna with nearly 200,000 miles on the clock to drive around Europe with two mates.

Before we’d even left the Doncaster postcode, the engine management light came on, which was such a special moment when you’ve bought a banger and are about to do 3,000 miles…

A few minutes earlier, one of the lads looked down and asked, “Why’s the gear knob on the floor?”

Turns out… because it just falls off every now and then.

At that point I think we all realised exactly what we’d bought, a banger.

The TwoBall Beach Rally is supposed to be about old cars (clinging on for dear life might be a better description), breakdowns and having a laugh, but I don’t think any of us expected to be changing our route before we’d even left the same postcode we started in.

The car went into limp mode, we started avoiding hills where we could, and half the route we’d planned disappeared before the rally had really begun.

Normally I’d have hated that.

I’m a planner. I work to a list, and I love ticking things off. I’d probably have spent the next few days trying to get us back onto the original route because, well… that was the plan.

This time I just laughed.

I remember filming the dashboard while the warning lights flashed because it was just funny. Watching my mates have a meltdown (well, one of them), BUT it defo helped knowing that I wasn’t the registered owner…

Funny thing is, changing direction turned out to be the best part of the trip.

It took us to places we’d never intended to visit. Sisteron ended up being one of my favourite places. I’d never even heard of it before, but it’s now somewhere I’d happily take the family back to one day.

Then there was the mechanic near Annecy.

Laguna Matata on the TwoBall Beach Rally

He spent the best part of an hour rummaging around his workshop looking for a replacement pipe, fitted it there and then, laughed at the state of the Laguna with us, swore in English about Renaults, and when we tried to pay him he refused.

We ended up forcing €20 into his hand after he’d already told us €40 was far too much.

We still wondered if we’d make it home, but weren’t scared of hills anymore.

I’d never done a proper lads’ trip before. Normally I’d have talked myself out of it because of work, family, guilt, or convincing myself it was too much hassle.

This time I didn’t.

I’m really glad I didn’t.

The Laguna somehow made it home.

I made it home.

I’m definitely more tired, probably less relaxed than when I left, but I’m happier than the version of me that nearly said no.

I reckon I need to say yes a bit more often.