After mostly sorting out Wilko’s interior (we’ll call it “nearly done”), I turned my attention to the front. It needed something. A bit of flair. A bit of menace. Something to say, “Yes, I camp—but I also lead convoys through post-apocalyptic wastelands.”
Enter: Nudge bars. Also known as bull bars. Also known as “the thing that makes your van look less like a mobile bread bin.”
🔩 Fitting Drama & Neighbourly Interference
One evening, with Paula on holding duty and me contorted underneath Wilko like a mechanic doing yoga, we got them fitted. They looked brilliant. Menacing. Like Wilko had joined a biker gang.
Then I noticed the bottom of the bars blocked the number plate. Three points on a licence just waiting to happen.
Options:
- Remove the bottom fingers
- Turn them upside down
- Move the number plate
- Gin and tonic
I chose option four.
Later, while Paula was off doing Elodie things (another story for another post), I tried flipping the fingers upside down. They looked awful. Twenty minutes wasted. Now I had to refit the bars solo, wrestling bolts with only two hands and a rising sense of despair.
Twenty minutes in, the neighbour popped out. I dropped hints. He’d clearly been watching me struggle through the blinds. Eventually, he offered to help. Brilliant.
Except he didn’t just hold the bars—he tried to take over like he was leading a pit crew. No mate, just hold it. Hold it. I regretted everything.
Eventually, we got it back on. He looked at the number plate and said, “You’ll get pulled for that.”
Do you think???
Thanks for the help. Sort of.
🧠 Number Plate Limbo & Amazon Therapy
I pulled off the number plate (which was taped on—don’t judge) and placed it where it looked legal. Problem: it was now floating mid-air in a void between the air vents and the bumper.
Time to think again. Gin o’clock.
I needed a backing plate. Enter Google and Amazon—my new best friends. I found one with its own bull bar and lights on top. It looked fantastic. Buy now. Next day delivery. Happy fingers.
24 hours later, I was stood in front of Wilko again, parcel opened, backing plate and lights in hand, trying to make it fit into the bars already there. Tight. Very tight. Might need to lower the number plate even more.
Now I needed:
- A support for the support
- Nuts and bolts
- Sticky number plate pads
Amazon again. And a weekend trip to the hardware shop for something vaguely supportive.
💡 Lights, Wiring & Wild Optimism
I had everything. Even eight little lights to add to the front for that final touch of “Wilko the Warrior.” But one thing I hadn’t thought of: wiring.
How do I get the wiring to the dash for the rocker switch? How do I wire into the side lights so the little ones shine?
Time for a trip to work. Ask the mechanics. Smile sweetly. Hope one of them offers to do it. That’s a job for the weekend.
It might look complete shite. It might look incredible. We won’t know until we try.
👀 Wilko Wants More
The bars are on. The lights are blinding. Wilko looks like he could lead a convoy or host a rave. But it’s not enough.
I found moving eyes online. Yes—moving eyes. They looked the biz. Ordered them on Amazon . Delivery estimate? “Within a month.” Translation: China via boat, possibly tucked between bubble wrap and questionable customs paperwork.
Also ordered:
- Seat covers (to hide snack sins)
- Steering wheel cover (so it doesn’t feel like gripping a lizard)
- Front mats (because muddy trainers deserve a throne)
Now I’m skint. But by the end of the month, Wilko will be fully sorted.
Well… until I spot something else. Which I will. Probably by Tuesday.
