I love it when things go according to plan. I'd fully intended to spend the first part of yesterday morning at Lidl (it's important to make the most of your weekends), and sure enough I did. Unfortunately most of it was spent broken down in their car park, waiting for the AA to arrive, but you can't have everything.

My local Lidl was having an end of summer monster madness sale (or something), during which they were knocking 50% off all non-food items for this weekend only. I decided to get there at 8am to grab all the bargains, and frankly I'm glad I did, because by 8:15 it was heaving. Half the population of the Whitehawk estate were in there, trying to lay their hands on a half price wetsuit and a couple of chainsaws. It was like the Looting Olympics in Chavsville. Electric woks, hedge trimmers, power washers, car creepers and bacon slicers, all at half the marked price. I was in hog heaven.

I managed to make it out of there at 8:20am with a travel cot for £15 and a chest of drawers for a tenner, and returned to my car with the intention of driving on to Asda for the weekly shop, and making it home before Lisa realised I'd gone. I first sensed that things might not quite work out the way I'd hoped when I turned the ignition key and my car made a noise like the death rattle of a marble factory. Not only did it fail to start, but every attempt sounded like the engine was being torn to shrapnel.

So I called the AA. And 45 minutes later they arrived. Fortunately I'm no stranger to AA men. And I don't mean the guys at the convention in January. If they're not handing out space blankets, they're busy making spelling mistakes on my form, and this one was another very nice man.

I turned the key to demonstrate the problem, and it duly made the sound of death metal, but this time managed to start. At which point the AA man told me I needed a new starter motor, and that if I turned off the ignition, it would probably never start again. So I drove around the corner to ATS, left the engine running, and followed its exmample by sprinting into reception and asking if they do starter motors.

They don't. But fortunately I have a first class garage two minutes walk from my flat. And what's more, they have their own website, complete with downloadable podcasts. So if you've ever wanted to hear a lecture in which "Steve enthuses about the joy of two post ramps", you know where to go.

Anyhoo, I have to say, the guys at 1st Class Garage lived up to their name. But then it's easy to fix a car which isn't broken. Having examined my Skoda with the engine running, they drove it into the garage, turned off the ignition, tried turning it on again to hear the problem for themselves, and... um... couldn't find anything wrong. Having started it up about ten times, experienced the gentle purring of an engine in perfect working order, and wondered if I was from Candid Camera, they eventually sent me on my way before I wasted any more of their time. They did offer a possible explanation involving starter motors and ring gears, but to be honest I wasn't really listening. I was just keen to get out of there before they charged me for labour.