An illuminated low-fuel warning light in an old Series Land Rover is an oddly reassuring sight, for two reasons. Firstly, in a car whose build quality very much depended on the prevailing mood at Solihull the day it made its way down the production line, it hints towards the likelihood that the next breakdown would be due to a simple matter of fuel shortage. The second pleasing thing about seeing that lamp glowing away is that it confirms that the thing actually works.
At the time of noticing it, I couldn't be sure just how long it had been casting its eerie amber light over the crackle-black edifice that is Bertha's dashboard, but it had been aware of the way it highlighted the crags and furrows of Old Jim's wizened face. This was a visage that even the kindest would say was notably improved in darkness, and to see only its most pronounced topography highlighted in pale orange was actually quite a privilege.
