Had a bit of fun Saturday night/Sunday.
Got on Sea Frances Mannet at around 9pm. Not many trucks on, but loads of flaming tourists.
Anyway, upstairs for tea, then wander around looking at the totty. Had a natter with the only 2 Brit truckers on board.
When we docked, I waited until last to go down to my truck as theres no point in racing like some do, because you don’t get off any faster do you?
Got in my cab which was about 10 inches from the wall of the boat (spoilt again by the luxury of all that room!), and started to sort myself out.
■■■■ on dasboard - check.
Wallet in safe - check.
ok, immobiliser key in dash… huh??
Try again.
Immobiliser key in dash… - nothing.
Oh ■■■.
Now the things with immobilisers is, if you cant get them to switch themselves off, what can you do? Nowt!
2 minuates had passes, and the Sea france deck crew were waving at me to get off the boat.
I waved back.
One came over to me and said “allez, allez”.
I squeezed out of the cab and said to him that it was knackered.
He kept telling me to go, and I just kept on saying I couldn’t.
Eventually he realized I’d got a problem, and waved the trucks parked behind me to come round.
By now I was the only motor left on board.
The deck boss came over and asked what was wrong.
“Can’t get immobiliser off”, I said.
“We’ll give you a few minuates to try and sort it, then we’ll drag you off”.
Ok.
Couple of mins later, still no luck.
The tug comes tear-arsing onto the deck at around 25mph, screeching to a halt in front of me.
The driver says he’ll tow me off with a bar. I told him at this point that my air pressure was low at around 6 bar. Not a prob he said. This’ll shift it.
Wanna bet?
After trying to move my outfit and losing a lot of his rubber on the ferry floor, he gave up.
“You’ll have to go back to Calais!”, said the deck boss.
“I get sea sick” I said. “I hate boats!”
“Tough, you can’t hold up the ferry any longer”.
So they loaded the ferry with the cars and the trucks all facing the opposite way to me.
Off upstairs again I went.
“Hello again,” they said in the restraunt.
All the staff on the boat knew what had been happening because they all have the litte walkie-talkies. Time to try to get a recovery man out.
Saturday night, on a ferry going to Calais, who you gonna call.
Service agent was closed, so rang the emergency number they gave me.
Millers in Preston.
After trying to explain my situation to him for about 10 mins, he said the only thing he could do was to call out Iveco in France. I was thinking about my poor wallet getting a bashing at this time, but what else could I do?
Millers had to ring Iveco in Turin, Italy to arrange a call out.
By the time we got to Calais, nothing had happened.
I phoned the recovery again, and they said they were waiting for Iveco Turin to phone my local deaer to get guarrantee of payment. I just had to wait.
Down on the deck, I was the only one again.
“Anyone coming?” said the deck boss. “Not sure”, I replied.
“Ok, we’ll take you back to Dover”.
Back upstairs to the drivers restraunt.
“You again?” “Yep”.
“Coffee? Food? Beer?” Dont mind if I do.
5 mins out od Dover I get Iveco Turin on the phone.
“Where are you?”
“On a ferry just coming into Dover. You’ve got about 20 mins to get someone to me.”
“Can’t do it that quick”, she said.
I had a word with one of the senior fellas on board, and he said that when they went back to Calais again, they would be satying on the berth for a lot longer.
So I asked Iveco to get someone out to me in Calais.
“Will you still be on the ferry?”
Cant go anywhere can I?"
“Ok, someone will be there”.
Back to Calais we go.
My truck is still in the same place.
Guys in the drivers restraaunt know me by my name now. They think it’s hillarious. I don’t - I hate boats.
Anyway, we dock in Calais - again - and lo and behold, an Iveco recovery van comes onto the deck.
A young lad, probably only about 21 starts to ask me what the problem is.
After we got around the language barrier by using a lot of sign language, he begins to work on my motor.
He takes off the steering coloum cowl - takes out the fuse box - takes out the dash - tilts the cab.
After an hour he says “Iveco England”.
“huh?”
“Iveco England. Here not possible”.
What he really meant was he didn’t know how to get round the immobiliser.
Great.
Phoned Millers in Preston and explained it to him. The guy said he’d phone Iveco Turin again and get them to arrange a wrecker to meet the boat when it docked in Dover.
At this time the crew were all on a break, but I was allowed to stay in my cab on the botton deck of the ferry. I was happy eough on my bunk listening to a 70’s cd, and singing my head off.
Soon the boat was being re-loaded.
“Hello again” they said upstairs.
Then Iveco Turin rang. “do you need assistance in Englad” they asked.
After i had finished throwing a Rob K, I explained to them that I needed a wrecker to meet me at Dover 'cos I was getting a little fed up of being on that boat. One good thing - I’d found my sea legs.
Iveco said that there would definately be someone there.
Outside the drivers restraunt, everyone was queing to get in. One guy popped his head round the corner and was told they weren’t open yet.
I just casually strolled up to the door, opened it, and was greeted by "Come in chef… hello… coffee?.. breakfast? Everyone else outside had to wait still. It was great!
Soon after we arrived at Dover.
I said my goodbyes to all on board, but they all though I’d be coming back upstairs. Ye of little faith!
Down on the decks, the trucks got off, and a little Iveco recovery van came on.
I explained the situation to this guy. A tug came on as well.
It was decided they’d drag me off.
“Not on your life!” “Why?” “My tyres”, I said. “It’ll be ok” they said. After making the man from Iveco guarantee he’d replace my tyres if I so much as lost half a mil, I agreed.
They got some airlines, and started to put some air into my tanks, but couldn’t get the pressure above 7 bar.
They tried to pull it.
No luck.
“Drop the trailer”.
No luck.
"Drop your suspension driver… " No luck.
All you could smell was burnt rubber from the wheels of the tug.
Right, time to wind off the brakes.
So eventually to the sound of cheering and clapping from the crew, I was towed off at a rather rapid rate up the ramp of berth number 5, and dropped to the side of it.
My trailer follwed.
The boat was re-loaded, and departed.
I said to the fitter next to me, “I’m gonna miss that boat. So many happy memories”. He probably thought I was mental!
Cutting a very long story short, it took him over 2 hours to rip the immobiliser out, as it was wired into absolutely everything. Also, for some reason, my unit had got 2 fitted. The original factory one on the key, which was still working ok, and this other aftermarket one. The problem was that they were conflicting with each other. Don’t know how, but I wasn’t in any mood to argue.
The immobiliser also had a fuel cut off switch as well, so that had to be taken out…
It was 11am when I was free to go, but as I was now on day number 7, I drove over to the area by the ferry offices and parked up and closed the curtains.
I hate boats.
Blimey, all them free crossings. 
about it and laugh,or when you go back over it aint a ground hogg day,i,m glad it wer,nt me i would have jumped ship 
So now any mention of the word immobilizer, and you break out in a sweat! Great story! Feel free to do a repeat performance for maximum entertainment value.