Searching for a chassis

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Perhaps however, there was better news regarding the search for a chassis. Dick, another ‘trade’ colleague, odd ball, faintly eccentric acquaintance of Chris, had come up with a couple of possibilities that he had found on E’Bay for about £100.00p. Guardedly, Chris feared the sort of sad anoraks, Dick included, who spend most their waking hours trawling for useless pieces of crap should not be trusted, or encouraged. So, understandably, that line of enquiry was instantly binned. I had been equally busy wading through the ‘ads’ of ‘Triumph club Mag’, ‘Classic cars’ plus any other publication that offered ‘genuine Triumph spares at competitive prices’. 

 I had located the ‘Spitfire Graveyard’ solely operated by a jovial but blunt Yorkshireman from Sheffield, called ‘Richard’. He does appear to have a choice of the principal components on our preliminary shopping list, at very competitive rates and, in his words, of great quality. I duly discussed, with Chris, the prospect of approaching Richard for, perhaps, even the bulk of the fundamental parts. 

He appeared very keen at 2.00pm, thought that Richard was just a scrapman at 3.00pm, compared him to Dick at 4.00pm, at 5.00pm suggested that we bought everything from him, 5.30pm that we don’t buy bloody anything from him, 6.00pm we should at least reserve the chassis, 6.10pm blamed me for not finding out prices 4 weeks ago, 6.15pm wants to go to farm and measure up the original chassis, to see if we can fit it into the Land Rover.  By the time it was 6.30pm my fucking head was in bits, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.

As the evening drew in Chris went to Oak; I remained at home sending e’mails and searching the ‘net’ for parts. 

Stripping off in Winter

Tues.21.03.06. In the relative comfort of my cellar I have begun to remove the paint as well as the undercoat from the engine side panels. Being aluminium I had been able to apply the solvent quite liberally, as a result they have cleaned up pretty well.

 Simultaneously, working at his home in Westmead, Standish, Chris has finished stripping the nose cone but he has become concerned about an excessive build up of filler at the top rim of the cone. This was in part due to the slightly different contour of the bonnet’s leading edge, but I feel that when the two are offered up together there would be a ‘match’. He has also gone through to the gel-coat with the paint stripper, which could expose a future concern. Later in the day, for purely motor trade business reasons, we visited Christopher Neil’s ‘Lotus’ showroom in Northwich. The painters in the workshop are constantly working with very expensive fibreglass bodied cars, so any advice or suggestions that they could render would have been born out of great experience. We immediately discovered that ‘Nitro-Mors’, the substance that we had been applying to the panels, was possibly the most volatile product to use on fibreglass. The problem still remains of removing the blistered paint from all of the panels of the car, without disturbing the ‘gel coat’.

 The task must not also develop into an endless time consuming job. We now have 5 litres of unwanted paint stripper. Not to worry, it had only cost a few pennies, I am sure we shall find a use for it somewhere or sometime in the on coming months

Stripping the original paint from the car.

Mon.20.03.06.We have had a day away from the project. Chris has needed to buy some cars in an attempt to continue with his business life pre-Burlington. However, we have been to “John the paint” for some strong paint stripper so that we can start to remove the old paint from the panels. We have experimented on the nose cone; thankfully, the process does appear to be successful without damaging the precious ‘gel coat’.

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Sun.19.03.06. Another D-day. The weather was brighter but would it mirror my mood? Most of the morning had been spent getting rid of the final corroded bolts that held the scuttle to the tub, labelling the crusting wiring loom then later, grinding off the remaining few stubborn fixings. I reminded myself how well I had put the old car together all those years ago, but at the same time regretted leaving it to rot in a damp, sodden garage. Throughout the early session Chris had unluckily developed a bad neck caused by the rigours of unfamiliar bending as well as uncharacteristic stretching, but more significantly due to the draughty, freezing weather of the previous days; but like a dutiful Trojan he pressed on to complete the task. By late morning we had finally wrestled the tub from the chassis. David had offered to give us a lift at this point because Chris was suffering, suffering from a great deal of pain. We were then able to store the tub at the side of the stables sheeted over so as not to disturb the horses. Adele, David’s wife, had earlier cleaned out a spare stable so that we could stack the rest of the wings plus other various components that had either fallen off or that we had managed to remove carefully. Immediately, after the first impression, Chris wasn’t at all happy about the condition of the chassis. Equally as quickly it was decided that we must locate a new one. At this defined moment in time I vowed to make this the best Burlington in existence, with the help of Chris and other ‘mates’ we shall succeed. No expense will be spared, no corners cut. Let’s rock. We left at one, dressed in our ‘worky’s clothes’ for smart Sunday at the Oak. This has been a good day.

 Both aching we retired to the pub for larks but also to discuss our plan of action. We had already established the chassis was irretrievable but exposing the running gear, suspension and ancillaries revealed deep seated decay. It was essential to locate and purchase replacement parts to enable the re-build. 

A small taste of the future developments of the story

07.03.07. As the project has developed the complications of the build were becoming apparent

• “Stochastic behaviour in a deterministic system” is a scientific phrase of cause and effect. What it means is every particle in the earth’s atmosphere is linked in a chain of cause and effect so intricate that it is extremely hard to make accurate predictions about the behaviour of the system as a whole. The weather forecast for tomorrow may be reasonably accurate. But the weather forecast for the following week will be much less so. And every now and then an apparent random whirlwind will catch the weatherman out as happened in the “hurricane” of 1987. This hypothesis is principally related to the economies of the world, particularly the connection between the American economy to that of the Chinese. This was evident last week (01.03.07) where the butterfly in this case was the fledgling Shanghai stock market. A mere winged bug compared with those of the New York and London. But when the Chinese investors flapped on Tuesday, driving down the Shanghai composite index by nearly 9%, the result was a storm, if not a 1987 style hurricane, in nearly all of the world’s markets. In one day 500 points was wiped off the Dow Jones whilst London plummeted by 150 on the FTSE index. In other words a slight hiccup can create such a ripple effect causing major complications many thousands of miles from the source of the original problem.  

This theory has been mirrored in the many modifications to the Burlington. For months we have striven to improve the quality of the finished product, but unknowingly by bettering one aspect of the car we have directly or indirectly affected many other aspects of the vehicle. One example of this was the decision to move the engine back 8 inches. This alone has resulted in the chassis being cut, the standard manifold and exhaust system altered, the overdrive gearbox having to be re-sited and the prop shaft flange re-fashioned. The front suspension has become further exposed and with little weight above the dampers the coil springs need to be shorter, in free length, and softer in strength. The ride height, the cast and camber, the increased sensitivity of the steering and the location of the ancillaries; principally the radiator, have all become our “stochastic behaviour in a deterministic system”. But at least for the Burlington project we can control the weather and the supply and demand of money. It is Chris and I who will determine the eventual triumphant outcome and not Rimmers, the Sheep Dip brothers, Nutty, deceitful Steve, crap after market components and even the “Doubting Thomases” in the Roy Castle corner.

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Sat.18.03.06. For most of the day I have had a bad head from self-inflicted beer greed, but we must press on. We have managed to remove all the wings and nose cone as well as making a start by labelling the wiring loom. Many of the ancillary parts that were holding the central tub have also been freed so we are creeping closer to the actual removal of the tub. True to the master plan along with the persuasive angling skills of the boss Dave Brown arrived at lunchtime to view the rusting wreck to tentatively offer advice as to how the dashboard could be fabricated. Whilst he and Chris were discussing the possibilities I remained under the car attempting to saw off the last two very awkward bolts that were holding the tub to the chassis. I managed to saw them off but I could also hear the two of them becoming more or less ‘orgasmic’ about Mahogany, Oak and Sepele, prematurely debating as to how the dashboard could eventually be fitted. Chris was very impressed with Dave’s noticeably deep knowledge, experience and craft, so much so that Dave promised to turn up on site to mock up a dash in MDF before he contemplates using real wood. The idea of making the dash slightly larger with a routered back had Chris almost euphoric latterly becoming animated at the prospect of Dave’s commitment. “Here come the Yankee workshop”.

 The final part of the day was taken up by re-fitting the rear wings to doubly ensure that all the body panels could be assembled absolutely in line. This was crunch time; if they could not be made good the project would be abandoned and 001 will be scrapped. Bugger me, they did work, the project will run. Let’s open a tin of Chunks. But just as I began to raise a faint smile Chris, the prophet of doom, cynic, pot half empty, announced that the tub might still be warped. Why did he have to say that? So, my thoughts returned to, ‘we might as well start filling the skip now’! My emotions were up and down like barmaids knickers.

We retired to the Oak for beer, necessary fortification. After one gallon all now seemed rosy, we looked forward to tomorrow when the tub will be removed. An added bonus came about when I grabbed a lift home with Chris and Harry the Rat, his driver, who also requested two packets of Viagra form my Indian stash. I duly sold him two packets which co-incidentally paid for the gallon of ale that I had just consumed.

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Fri.17.03.06. We have bravely committed to a second day of examination of the cars’ basic structural condition. It is St Patrick’s Day when traditionally anyone who has even the slightest whisper of a connection with the Emerald Isle has a strong obligation to throw a ‘sicky’, sing monotonous Irish ballads with the sole intention of getting momentously pissed. I wonder if this will be significant. The piercing wind unrelenting biting cold are still with us but at least today there is sufficient daylight so we can see what we are doing. The project is still in the balance because of the possibility of the warped tub. During the morning we pressed on with the removal of the wings and nose cone. I think Chris was very impressed with the huge range of nuts, bolts, screws and fasteners that I had used on the car. He was particularly astonished at their different sizes notably how appropriate they were for the job. But, because of their diversity as well as lacking the relevant ‘Imperial’ spanners in our extensive toolbox, we had to revert to the all-embracing applications of the angle grinder to remove many of the corroded nuts and bolts. I had made such an outstanding job of fixing the parts that it was often impossible to release them in the conventional manner. It was a successful day but still there remains the big question as to whether or not we should proceed. Even though there was much removed from the car we still couldn’t reposition the tub to make sure that there could be correct alignment. I am still quite depressed at the thought of abandoning the car, but the boss will have the last word, as such it will be the sensible decision.

In the Oak the celebrations for Patrick’s night were underway. I thought that the only place to steer clear of the dreadful, imitation Irish songsters banging on about fucking convicts, potato famine, being screwed by the British and other crimes against those lovely, charming Irish travellers would be the Oak, but unfortunately not. Coinciding with our time of arrival of 6.05, Doctor Dave sparked up with the Rivers of Appin Rye from Galway Bay in 1842, in the key of Z, by 6.25 and 35 verses later he’d finished. Fuck me, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. So much so that I stayed until 12.30am.

Midway through the evening Chris had subtly tapped up Dave Brown, who as well as being a fireman is an excellent carpenter, to fashion the dashboard of the car. This was forward planning at it’s best; we had not even determined whether or not the project would be ‘off the ground’ when he was blagging him into a meeting tomorrow to measure the prospective difficulties of turning a gearstick from a solid piece of mahogany. I have got to hand it Chris, he could probably also sell “how not to be a complete moronic twat” to Liam Gallagher subsequently converting him to Christianity. 

Tomorrow is ‘D day’. It could be the budding prospect of creating a wonderful car or filling a skip full of rusty metal.

Moving the vehicle to David's farm

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Thurs.16.03.06 We returned to Marlebone with the specific idea of moving the car but after we had managed to drag the vehicle from the garage and haul it onto the VW it broke down. Typically, the fault was a simple flat battery. Jo was summoned to affect a rescue but, unfortunately, she thought the rendezvous was at David’s farm instead of my lock-up, thus causing an unbearable delay. I began to realise at this point that Chris is quite able of displaying a concoction of personalities; constantly suspicious, intensely private, often bordering on paranoia: he was feeling totally exposed as we found ourselves stranded in this council run courtyard where we were the subject of prying eyes potentially always intent on complaining on the phone to anyone and everyone who was interested. Chris began to turn multiple shades of red caused by the present anxiety but fortunately, Jo finally arrived with the Rover so we were able to kick start the transporter. Chris silently cursed suspecting that was still being ‘watched’, twitching net curtains giving the curious observers away. Because the VW had never let him down before he claimed that it was probably down to me for trying to start the fucking wreck before the hot plugs had switched off. Chris turned purple; call the paramedics. Another friend had heard the calls for help arriving in the courtyard creating even more congestion, confusion as the cameras flashed. Dave Brown pitched up to help even though not required, but like a good friend, he was there just to help if needed. Chris didn’t appreciate the gesture presuming he was attracting too much attention around the flats, blocking the car park, the noise from his diesel engine waking up the dead. I did sense that Chris definitely had an unhealthy edginess about people ‘watching’ him, a bit like big brother, or maybe it was simply the spectre of the taxman.

Minor setback aside, we finally arrived at David’s farm, parked up by the barn, gave the motley collection of faded lumpy paint, twisted, warped rusting chassis a serious looking over to begin the initial investigation. It was freezing cold with a strong wind blowing over the fields but we did attempt to remove some bolts in an attempt to re-align the rear wing, which if possible would prove that we would be able to re-jig the rest of the panels so that the car could actually be built straight certainly not ‘crab like’ as she had moved before. Sparks flew from the blunt, stumpy tiny angle grinder but together with a great deal of bish, bosh bashing we managed to remove 4 bolts. We were undoubtedly well tooled up. After feeling faint with the cold as well as the natural light fading fast, Chris proposed that the cars’ body may be warped so it may be pointless preceding any further. Fuck me; all this banter in the pub about uniqueness of 001, the anniversary of ‘Beaujolais run’ could all suddenly be down the pan. Have we had a proper reality check? C’est la vie or as we say in England, fuck me stiff. Tomorrow is another day.

The project begins to develop

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Over the Winter months I had pondered my approach to the task. The lockup garage was devoid of electricity, therefore ‘power’. How was I to start? Many of the more convenient rusting nuts and bolts could be conventionally unscrewed or chiselled off, but the larger body tub and chassis bolts had become welded together by rust. I had several attempts using hammers, a selection of screwdrivers, chisels and bars but the task was daunting. I questioned why I was doing this in the first place. Gemma and Paul had lost interest, sensibly, the scale of the task was now becoming clearer, the weather was becoming colder.
Accidentally, on a desperately miserable February night, there would prove to be a seminal, brief moment of surprising enlightenment occurring during one of many boozy sessions down at the local pub, the Royal Oak: it would eventually dominate our thoughts for many months to come. The landlord, the ‘Doc’, casually mentioned that wouldn’t it be great if I could repeat the ‘Beaujolais run twenty five years on’ in the November of 2006, using the same car and with the same crew. “But I don’t suppose you could even dream of having the car ready in six months time?” he questioned. I responded by explaining that it would be a super idea but realistically it would be an impossible target to hit. “Bollocks, with my help we could do it our sleep!” I attempted to warn Chris that I had absolutely no facilities to attempt such a task: I had very little space to strip the car, nowhere to store the parts, most of my tools had been lost and even if I had could obtain any, I had no power to operate them. “Don’t worry, I’ll have a word with David, we could load the wreck back onto the transporter, take it up to the farm and strip it there. Afterwards we can complete the rebuild I my double garage at home”. I was never sure at this point whether or not this was just to prove the ‘pub gang’ wrong or Chris genuinely fancied the challenge of transforming the ugly duckling into a graceful swan: the prospect of which I would find out later.

On Thursday 09.03.06 I revisited my ‘cottage in the fields’, Woodfold, which had been the final resting place for the car, after it had been taken off the road, before being moved to Liverpool. Obviously, many others had lived in the place since my departure so the hope of rescuing any old parts, tools or information that I had left twenty years previously, was a real shot in the dark. Another gloomy night, in another foreign land quickly ended the futile expedition; we would have to work with what we had: so the following Tuesday 14.03.06 we made the definitive visit to Marlebone to assess the actual feasibility of the exercise.

Day one of the build

In many ways the project began on Monday the 20.06.2005 in Liverpool when I brought the rusting carcass back to Wigan. Five years previously I had generously given the vehicle to my daughter Gemma and her then boyfriend Paul. Recently Paul’s father, Peter had retired from Ford Motors of Speke with time on his hands he foolishly agreed to resurrect the Burlington. But having realised the extent of the work required had put the restoration on hold until a more appropriate occasion. There was never going to be an ‘appropriate occasion’ as the wreck was terminal requiring serious surgery if it could ever be resuscitated. I cannot recall why I had decided that it was my place to rescue the car but I had arranged to travel to Liverpool using a decrepit VW transporter once the beating ‘heart’ of the Chris Ball Motors empire, who at the time was my present employer. My once precious Burlington needed to dragged from the garage, the seized brakes only reluctantly freeing under the strain of the mechanical winch. By the time Chris and I were leaving Gateacre the sun was setting on a pleasant summers evening. This tranquil suburb of Liverpool was still very much an alien unpredictable urban sprawl to Chris who even as a young man had always been very distrustful of this region of the northwest, associating Liverpool as this foreign locale, liberally inhabited by thieves, sprinkled generously with rogues and vagabonds. Scousers, having the reputation of naturally jovial chancers was not the image that Chris wished to acknowledge; he preferred ‘opportunist’ robbers to be a more accurate description. So every road junction, sets of traffic lights frequent delay in the traffic flow was a potential circumstance where the wheels of the transporter would be calmly stolen, we would be mercilessly mugged, both vehicles ruthlessly torched. Trying to compare the areas that we were passing through to more familiar territory was, for Chris, not at all reassuring, it was only when we entered the Wigan town boundaries that we ceased to be in mortal danger. By now it had become completely dark so sensibly the preferred option was to leave both vehicles at David Higham’s` farm to discuss the next stage of the venture in the secure comfort our ‘local’.

The following morning on Tuesday 21.06.05 we trundled down the farm track travelling the short distance to my lock up in Marlebone where the car remained until Thursday 30.06.05 when the first serious examination took place. Chris expressed his surprise at the natural flowing contours of the wings and how, even after fifteen years of neglect, the car stood fairly straight without sagging or listing badly. I managed to fill in most of the historical details regarding the ‘driven’ qualities, but principally how the vehicle ran during the ‘Beaujolais run’ back in 1981. “You know, with a little bit of help this could make quite a decent little car; but I know someone who could offer a better evaluation of whether or not it’s a runner, if you are interested?”
One week later on Wednesday 06.07.05 Colin Brockbank accompanied by his young son visited the lockup. It had been previously explained to me that Colin had a reputation of working on high performance cars, his knowledge of anything that has four wheels, an internal combustion engine and smells of Duckhams, Castrol, Leather, Walnut and Octane was second to none. The chassis and body tub were not perfectly aligned so this became the crux of his assessment then recommendations. “The only way to prove either way was to strip the vehicle down totally, criss-crossing the tub at regular intervals measuring the discrepancies as well as the significant tolerances ensuring that the entire vehicle could be made square”.
With that advice both Chris and Colin made their excuses quietly leaving they wished me all the luck in the world.

Perverse logic

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I am only rude to the people that I like.