Jonny McCambridge: Car problems while the rain pours down. Can we fix it? After four visits to the hardware store ...Yes, we can!

​An hour ago, I was driving contentedly down the A1 when a message flashed on the dashboard warning that the engine oil pressure was low. In my attempt to be responsible, I endeavoured to remedy the issue and drove to a hardware store.

I own an old car. That is a lifestyle choice and it means living with some sacrifices in terms of comfort and reliability. My motor is rattly and makes noises that it probably ought not to.

I pulled into the car park and went into the cavernous DIY store. After a few minutes wandering the aisles, I found the jars of engine oil and headed to the checkout. There was one till open and I spent a couple of seconds exchanging routine chat with the woman working there.

There are not many tasks that I am confident enough to attempt myself under the bonnet. Topping up the oil is just about at the limit of my competency. As I am completing the job I notice that it is beginning to rain, but I am not too perturbed as I will be driving away in a few seconds.

The problem arises when I attempt to close the bonnet. The hood goes down most of the way but will not click shut. I lift and lower it a few times and exert a bit of pressure, but the bonnet stubbornly refuses to close.

I stay like this for some time as the shower becomes more persistent. Through my inexpert attempts to close the bonnet I have succeeded only in covering my hands with dark engine grease. As I said at the beginning, I feel sorry for myself.

I examine my options. The car is not safe to drive to a mechanic as I don't want the bonnet flying up in front of the windscreen while I am on the A1.

The failsafe option is to phone my da to get him to fix it. But, as a man in my 50s, the point has surely long passed where I can credibly do that.

I could call the breakdown organisation to which I pay a monthly charge, to come and rescue me. This seems the most sensible solution, but I am reluctant.

I think about the last time I called them. For an hour I had been unable to get the car key to insert into the ignition. The repair man arrived in his orange van, jiggled the ignition barrel and inserted the key within two seconds. I felt like a fool.

And therein lies the problem and the explanation as to why I feel like I might cry.

Yes, I am cursing my misfortune with the car, but as a middle-aged man, I am embarrassed about my impotency in being unable to do anything about it.

I have to gather myself. If I am too ashamed to call for help, then I need to clear my mind to find a remedy. Why is the bonnet not closing? The first step is to observe.

I use tissues from my pocket to wipe layers of grease away from the little locking mechanism. I lift the bonnet gingerly up and down and observe the metal obstruction which is preventing it from clicking shut.

I move in closer. There is a thin metal sheet which is meant to move back and forward, controlled by a spring, to allow the bonnet to open and close. It is not moving as it should. If I can get it to shift, then the bonnet should shut.

Diagnosing the problem is just the first step. I know that resolving it will be trickier.

The metal sheet that I need to move is encased between other strips of metal and is difficult to reach, never mind shift. I spend some minutes hopelessly poking at it with my house key before giving up.

I feel the sense of hopelessness rising in me again.

'If only I had tools,' I mumble sadly in the rain. And then louder, 'If only I had tools!'

I look up and remember I am at a hardware store.

I go inside and buy a pair of pliers. The woman at the till greets me for a second time.

I return to the car. However, the points of the pliers are too broad to reach the metal sheet. I spend some minutes just staring at it. I have forgotten the rain. I decide I need something long and thin to reach it.

I go into the DIY shop for a third time. The woman at the till looks confused as I purchase a sturdy screwdriver.

I go back to my car with the latest purchase. I am pleased because the point of the new tool is thin enough to reach the metal strip. However, I do not have enough force to move it. I spend more minutes staring.

I make my fourth trip in less than half an hour into the hardware store.

As I present a hammer to the woman at the till, I feel she is on the verge of telling me that customers are allowed to buy more than one item at a time, but thinks better of it.

I go back to the car. The end of the screwdriver is again placed against the strip of metal. I give the handle a few gentle taps with the hammer, then a few more. The sheet of metal begins to move.

I gently lower the bonnet and my heart leaps when I hear it click shut. I put my new pliers, screwdriver and hammer in the boot. They could come in handy again.

I am soaked and have soiled and greasy hands as I drive away from the store. I am feeling more pleased with myself than I probably should.