Blood and cursing

My (step) father-in-law has been helping me try and remove a headlamp from our motorhome. It has not been a fun job. We may have done a swear. Or three. I tried it myself for about an hour late last week, to no avail. It’s one of those awkward jobs that was, probably, very easy to do when the van was being built, but then they’ve attached the bumper farings etc, which are riveted in place, and so you need to be a contortionist to even reach your hand into the right position. I’m 186cm tall (6′ foot) and my limbs are too long. Thankfully with his know-how, smaller frame, and some brute force we’ve managed to get the old headlamp out without damaging the fitting plate. It’s all so awkward —we had to take the front wheel off to get access through a panel in the wheel arch— and reminds me of all those articles I’ve read about sustainability and designing things to be taken apart. This is NOT one of those things. But step one is done at least. I have the replacement part, we just need to…