Trouble and strife in more ways than one.

Weds.07.06.06. “Do you want the good news first or the bad?” said Chris, with a smile. “The head light sections are ‘making up’ fine but the screen doesn’t fit”. I reminded Chris that when we both left last night all the problems had been solved, the screen was sitting pretty on the scuttle and today we were prepared to ‘sign it off’. “Put the lid back on the chunks and return the evap milk to the fridge. It doesn’t fit today”. “Pourquoi?” I hesitantly requested. “When I came down this morning the gaps in the corners had opened again, the folding mechanism was jammed, we are back to square one”. “Bollocks” thought I.

We have faced yet another day of tinkering, bodging, filing down, taping up, screwing up, cocking up and ‘making up’, like lovers often do.

Towards the end of the afternoon we, at long last realised that the brackets were not suited to the profile of the Burlington scuttle, but unsurprisingly were perfect for the single planed curve of the Morgan. Somehow, these incompatible contours had to match. We hacked away with the grinder, coarse files, 40’s, 80’s, 120’s, 400’s, rubbing down until the plane had levelled to accommodate the brackets. This time we were confident we had all the answers. In theory, this solution should work. For the brackets to be comprehensively supported we have decided, sensibly, that the inner scuttle must have additional reinforcement to test the hypothesis; but that is another day. The comfort we gain from every minute change underpins the perception of ‘ownership of the design’. Haydn Davies has provided an exciting but blemished blue print, with every tiny adjustment the Burlington is becoming our ‘interpretation’ and not his. 

The ‘tete’ dust that we had been inhaling throughout the day had prompted a strong thirst that could only be quenched by ‘Queen Stella’. We had already consumed three pints before we were joined by the Captain, accompanied by a brace of saltettes, who, instantly, began to complain about the blanket of smoke in ‘the Roy Castle corner’. Katie without delay switched on the extractor fan. Toby responded by mutating into Psycho, switching off the fan declaring that he was cold and couldn’t hear any of the conversation. Katie promptly switched the fan back on again. Toby the Psycho countered angrily by switching it off. Saltette Vicky with malleable husband Adrian left, Philip prodded Jamie to the opposite end of the bar, Danny, oblivious to the warning triangle, continued to narrate the horror story about selling his house, whilst Chris stood anxiously between Katie and Psycho.

Mercifully, Toby’s fuse only smouldered, sputtering intermittently uttering the occasional fizzy-spit. We settled into an uneasy calm. The fan remained switched off, Philip with Jamie returned to corner, Chris endeavoured to explain about expanding, divergent planes, Jo and I left. I guessed that Chris having grabbed a lift home with Toby would have suffered a ‘full on’ ear bashing about the entire affair. “Those fuckin’ Santuses, who the fuck do they think they are? Lord turd, Princess ball biter and ‘sister plain’, the pretend sweet one, their sycofuckinphantic bleatin’ fuckin’ husbands and the thick one, I’m going to really fuck them off one day”. I suspect he would.  

Success driven by Mr Budweiser

Tues.06.06.06. It  is not going to be a good day. Bad omen, ominous karma, negative vibe.

I had woken with little enthusiasm, dreading the prospect of yet another day working on the windscreen fitting. Chris had already started to reinforce the interior of the scuttle top applying the pre-fabricated aluminium strip adhered by ‘glass’. This was one of the several proposals of the re-design, which was considered to be an obligatory amendment, together with other modifications, to maintain the unbroken curve from bonnet to cockpit, to soften the corners of the dashboard and to move the screen further back. It was thought that all would greatly improve the ‘look’ of the car. Because of the complexity of angles, dimensions, lines, curves and the obvious fact that the screen, brackets and folding mechanism were produced to fit a ‘Morgan’ and not a Burlington all conspired to thwart our attempts.

In every acceptable location problems surfaced. The rake was too severe, the folding mechanism jammed, the joints opened, it was too low, too high, just too ‘wrong’. We felt that each day brought fresh difficulties in addition to insurmountable dilemmas. We re-tried adding spacers to the brackets, to gain much needed width, but this caused the screen to lift and the brackets to twist restricting the folding movement. Reversing the brackets from concave to convex naturally narrowed the fitting, again proving to be unacceptable.

Inspiration came in the form of Mr.Budweiser. After a welcomed, chilled bottle and with spirits refreshed we decided to have one more attempt, but we were also determined this would be final. With the spacers attached we placed the screen a little higher on the scuttle to avoid warping the frame and twisting the brackets. 

Looking at each other in amazement we both felt that we may have finally have solved the difficulties that have frustratingly delayed progress. Reducing the seating angle meant that the brackets rested correctly facilitating the smooth operation of the fold. We also pondered as to whether the screen would function in this fresh location without the spacers: ‘this would be a real bonus’, we both smiled as the theory proved correct. Eureka, success at last, open a tin of chunks. We have done it. The Morgan screen now sits proudly, comfortably and gracefully on the massively altered Burlington scuttle top. We have achieved mission impossible. Stella time.

Entering the Oak we were bombarded with puerile comments regarding the time we had committed to bolting two brackets and a screen to the ‘plywood flyer’. “You’re taking your fucking time with that screen” Toby, politely, commented. “Have you not finished it yet?” enquired Steven, the Christian. “When are you putting the wheels on?” joked Doctor Dave, the mechanic. “I don’t give a shite so long as it’s ready for the Beaujolais run?” slurred the landlord, in a pertinent and relevant way. “It’s all but completed” we boasted, in a vain attempt to quieten the baying crowd. 

Lowtie's rant

Mon.05.06.06. We have had another frustrating day trying to make the screen fit the scuttle top. The screen sits well on the scuttle in the upright as well as the resting position but when required to operate the folding mechanism forces the lower corners open. Just when we think that all the problems have been solved another one jumps up and bites us on the arse. By the end of the day we suspect we have mistakenly attempted to set the screen too far back on the scuttle. We have concluded this for several reasons. The width of the scuttle increases towards the rear edge, which causes the screen, when opened, to track the profile. But by doing this it opens by an intolerable amount. We had built our calculations around the screen in the folded position assuming once raised its ‘travel’ would be the same. But, when raising the screen the lower corner joints split squeezing the sealing rubber onto the scuttle top, which also prevented the folding mechanism to operate effectively. Alas, it has been a wasted day. Two forward, three back.

The dark mood continued at the Oak with dull, matter of fact banter. Only brightened by Andy Lewis description of Lowtie’s house (Andy is converting his flooded cellar into a flooded Granny flat). “Every evening we empty the cellar preparing the groundwork for the next day. But when we pitch up for work the following morning there are dead birds and other critters hanging up all over the fucking place, which John has either shot, netted or trapped. It’s quite common to see Lowtie endlessly banging away on his PC writing poisoned, bitter letters to his principal targets, the NW water board, indifferent, incompetent councillors, his indolent, corrupt, shady MP, his bent, slippery insurance company, who in spite of everything, persist to drag their feet even after ten months of ‘reasoned’ negotiation; in fact, anyone vaguely connected to his present plight. Yet, he still finds enough time to simultaneously murder local wildlife as well as periodically leaving his desk to verbally abuse traffic wardens. Waving a pointed finger at the cowering metre maid he explodes forcefully into, there’s the fuckin’ fascist bitch who booked my car last week. Welcome to Planet Lowton”. 

Historical detail from Haydn Davies

During the evening of 02.06.06.

Haydn Davies has returned my e’mail answering many of the questions that I had previously posed.

“I recall that you mentioned that the front and rear wings were purchased directly from Morgan. Was that the case?”

That was the original idea, but they needed to be modified. The Morgan wings bolt through from ‘top to bottom’ whereas Burlington wings bolt from ‘side to side’, so a flange had to be ‘glassed on’. What happened in reality was that I found a supplier of fibreglass wings who could produce them with the flange in the right place. I used several suppliers over the years. The guy that has the moulds now is Neil Duncan, 01938 500518 (North Wales).

“Could a straight six replace the 1296 engine?”

Ermm…I think so…I have a feeling that if you do this you may need to re-route the steering column, (the engine mounts get in the way). It’s been so long that things like that have faded from my memory. You could ask the question on the Burlington Newsgroup.

“How did you come up with the idea of moving the engine back and reversing the turrets to improve handling..etc..?”

I think it was because the Triumph engine was too far forwards to fit under the nose cone, and, to save messing about with welding up new engine mounts, I discovered that the suspension towers were identical, except for the brackets that held the engine. I also recall that other manufacturers did the same thing, (and claimed that THEY had discovered it). The problem was it was a bit too far back, and the bell housing hit the chassis. That’s why there are some spacers in to move it forwards a bit. I think this is the case on the SS, but it may be only on the arrow.

“Would you know how many SS were actually produced?”

I supplied somewhere between 100-120 kits. When I sold the business and the SS2 was developed, with doors and a higher standard of trim etc.. put the price up so much, they went bust… I think another 50 were built. There are about half a dozen on the register, but there are probably a lot more that don’t know the register exists. I am going to Venice for the summer hols, and I am visiting a man in Italy with an arrow, and maybe another one in Switzerland. Arrows got around the world more than the SS because of the fact that it was easier to build from the plans than ship out a whole kit. Having said that, I do recall at least four kits being collected then transported to France to different people.      

“Is it possible to send the project a Burlington badge?”                   

No problem. Just stick a five pound note in the post. I’d send you one today but I’ve run out again. No, I don’t sell loads, it’s just that for every one that I cast, I get about three scrap ones. Then I burn my fingers on the molten pewter, and give up after making two or three. I’m about to make some more next week, so I’ll get one off to you as soon as they are ready.

“Would you know how many SS are still in existence?”

I’ve just looked on the register http://uk.geocities.com/burlington_register /links/him and discovered that there are 20 Burlington SS owners there (there are 48 other Burlingtons in total listed). This ‘sort of’ works out. Say there were 170 kits sold, 11.7% are listed. Say there were 500 other Burlingtons built, 9.6% are listed. It is reasonable to assume that if 50% of the cars ever built no longer exist, the 20 % would have managed to find the register.

“In your opinion where is the best place to locate parts?”

The best way to locate parts is http://www.looking4bits.com/. The quickest way to locate car parts on E’bay.

The response from Haydn has answered many of the questions that we must address during the on coming weeks. The explanation of how the wings were developed was interesting, the contact with the register must become a priority, if nothing else but to establish the existence of ‘the very first Burlington off the production line. Very soon we shall be engrossed searching for the most reliable suppliers, whether or not that is e’bay or Botany Bay, Rimmer Brothers or the Sheep Dip Brothers will be contentious. With regard to the size of engine, reversal of turrets and who exactly could claim that piece of inspiration shall stay in the domain of the anoraks.

I must confess to be somewhat personally, yet selfishly gratified to discover that there is a very strong possibility that there cannot be many SS still ‘alive’. Without appearing smugly derisive about the quality of the building instructions and DIY materials offered in the early kits it would be inconceivable to think that there could be more than a handful of cars still complete. It would be even more difficult to comprehend that there would be any actually on the road. Dovetail the uniqueness of number1 Burlington SS together with the realisation that there will not be many other ‘fruitcases’ who are likely to have the determination to rebuild a ‘flawed’ diamond, who have ready access to professional expertise and a sizeable budget to guarantee quite a special outcome, indicates that 001 should be indisputably ‘unique’.

Perhaps bitten off too much?

Fri.02.06.06. It has been a long but fruitful afternoon dubiously distinguished by many exhausting hours ensuring that the final fitting of the screen will be perfect. Cutting the ‘ears’ from the edge of the scuttle had been easy enough achieving the desired effect of endorsing the line of the bonnet flow into the cockpit area. On the original car the sweeping upper curve of the bonnet ended at the point where the screen brackets were fitted. A 90-degree corner had also been created on the top of the left and right edges of the scuttle to enable the continuation of a perfectly flat plane matching that of the bottom edge of the windscreen itself. This design was simply fabricated to facilitate the final assembly. Our intention was to reject these ‘ugly’ corners thus promoting the upper contour of the bonnet from the front to the rear of the scuttle. Logistically this became a much more complicated modification than we had first imagined. 

The curved planes of both the scuttle and the bonnet alter subtly as they travel towards the rear edge meeting ultimately the top of the dashboard. The new corners that had been sculpted required to be moulded to conform to the ‘three’ other planes. Aluminium strips were then fashioned to mirror the desired curves acting as reinforcement as well as a pattern. Once this had been achieved the central section of the scuttle was built up to accommodate the concave bottom edge of the new windscreen. The location of the screen brackets was determined by the angle that was formed when the screen was in the full flat position. When rested flat, the screen ideally should lie parallel with the line of the bonnet, but this caused the feet of the brackets to turn into a steeper angle resulting in a softer rake of the screen. Each slight alteration enabled the screen to sit lower on the scuttle, which also meant that the middle section needed less building up.

After four hours of consideration, debate, reflection, supposition, and formulation as well as cutting, filing and drilling the definitive shape of the scuttle was ready to be ‘made up’. It had been well worth the effort; the line of the bonnet now flows through the scuttle and into the cockpit only to be interrupted by the aluminium screen brackets which hold the magnificent stainless steel folding mechanism.

The new Morgan screen now sits proudly and comfortably on the scuttle at least two inches further back from the original location creating a stylish sleek impression. These have been very important, extremely successful, seriously difficult modifications. Fingers crossed, the screen should fold smoothly from the raised to the lowered position. We can test the theory tomorrow. 

The increasing number of proposed changes to the original concept inevitably will threaten not only the progress of the venture but may undermine the very character of the initial design. We have strived constantly to generate superior engineering possibilities side by side with sensitive aesthetic improvements, so it is imperative to re-visit, research and refresh our understanding of the car, explore other adventurous constructers, embrace their findings with the intention of incorporating the most dominant into ‘001’. The obvious starting point should be Haydn Davies.

Quality spare parts

                                          

                                                                         Burlington Dairy, June 2006.

Thurs.01.06.06. A few days earlier I had been on the phone to John of Life’s Motors with regard to some tasty but essential parts. I recalled the first visit when the discovery of his small office/stockroom/used parts stash was a delightful revelation, that encouragingly promised access to beautifully crafted parts. The purpose of today’s trip was to collect these components, increase the photo library but also, ‘pick’ John’s brain. The latest shopping list included a chrome bonnet strip for £38.56, 2x brass bonnet ends £10.40, 2x rubber plinths £12.00, 2x reflector plinths £5.90, 2x side rubber gaskets for the screen brackets £11.00, a ‘T’ bar to support the spare wheel £18.50, a spacer to hold the spare wheel £7.50, The history of Morgan book £5.95 and finally 2x aero screens (used) £50.00. John, true to character, was again extremely helpful offering his vast informed experience and advice. Although these components appear to be expensive they are necessary to ensure that the car has the ‘look’ of a proper vehicle, not a mere kit car. 

The quality, in particular, of the machined items, is top draw’, usually formed from high-grade stainless steel, polished alloy or chrome on brass. There can be no substitute for this level of engineered goods. I have spent £180.00, without any misgivings, in the knowledge that this particular attention to detail will accordingly be recognised yet understated yet will unquestionably ‘embellish’ the whole image of the Burlington. We thanked John for his assistance; he thanked us for spending money, we both parted happy. “You know he’s a bullshitter, he’s pocketing the ‘Jack Dash’, he’s a typical smiling conman, the trade is awash with them, mark my words he’s no different from the rest” commented sceptical, unconvinced Chris. I replied, not totally agreeing, tentatively offered, “I suppose 40 years in the job, man and boy, dealing with genuine, ultra straight people on a daily basis, you could say that he is emblematic of the seedy, fraudulent world that a Morgan dealership would spawn, worst of all he’ll know absolutely fuck all about the Marque”.

Later in the Oak a plot was hatched between Danny, Katie and Chris with Captain Salty being the principal target. The day before, Chris had bought a white Reliant Robin from Alan at ‘Suttons’ for £200.00. Their intention was to leave the vehicle outside ‘Salty Towers’, the Lairds mansion, with the company logo ‘TWC’ proudly emblazoned on the side panels. Philip is such a pompous bugger the very thought he could ever be associated with this unexceptional ‘national treasure’, commonly purchased by low incomed, flat capped pensioners he would find toe curling. The hole in the ground could not be dug large enough to accommodate his embarrassment. To be present at Philip’s reaction when he first clocks the 3 wheeled, plastic joke would be priceless.

Ups and downs: what's new?

Wed.31.05.06. I have spent the morning cleaning out the lock up at Marylebone to enable both the salvaged and scrap parts to be stored. A visit to the Frog lane tip concluded a fruitful, but dull, few hours. It was difficult dragging myself the few short miles to Westmead: anticipating the torment that is ‘fitting the screen’ would inevitably be waiting, standing by patiently to spoil yet another day. I had produced a work schedule for the week, which I hoped, would encourage some semblance of order moving the project steadily forward. I don’t think for one moment Chris will take any notice of the proposed weekly targets but quietly I have sufficient resolve to push through the value of such an approach. 

Chris greeted my arrival with a broad smile. “I’ve cracked it, I was still working at midnight when I suddenly realised why we were struggling with the screen. We had not measured the width of the screen incorrectly but we had simply fitted the brackets the wrong way around. I think that Haydn Davies must take some of the credit because just as reversing the turrets to move the engine towards the centre of the car was his brilliant idea, so likewise, switching the screen mounting brackets is an  equally mind blowing concept. What do you think?” Standing in the doorway studying this solution that had caused, almost, terminal problems was a monumental moment of enlightenment. I realised at that point that any difficulty, constructional or aesthetic, can be overcome triumphantly, resolved properly, not cobbled or fudged.

The theory still had to be proved, the next four hours would be critical. More than ‘fine tuning’ was required. Would the spacers be a part of the fitting or even required? At which angle would the screen sit? Could the folding mechanism operate efficiently? Finally, would the screen still be too narrow? As the afternoon progressed all these questions were to be answered. Some help from John, at Life’s Motors, who verified the rake of the screen. He informed me that, “When the screen is folded it should lie, approximately, parallel and 4 inches above the sloping bonnet. The angle of the screen roughly rises 3 inches from the vertical. Having said that, John reminded us, it is always better to use ‘rack of eye’ as the primary guide.

Recalling our previous visit to Life’s Motors, when he calmly informed us “that every car is different, because they are all hand made”, we realised instantly that we must trust our own judgement, there is no right or wrong but just ‘better’. Slowly, but steadily, we resolved every minor problem. The spacers were rejected, the rake was settled and the mechanism operated effortlessly. The screen sat on the scuttle majestically. From being, genuinely, depressed, frustrated and worried only 24 hours before, I feel uplifted, rewarded, bursting with enthusiasm. What a difference a day makes, thank you Billy Ocean.                          

This has been a ‘proper’ roller coaster month.

A clean working environment

Tues.30.05.06. The morning has been filled productively by tidying the garage then removing any unnecessary salvaged components into the ‘Discovery’. Tomorrow the haphazard collection of boxes will be re-located in my lock up. Chris has been determined to prove Colin wrong by establishing an organised, professional workspace but more significantly, solving the varied structural problems that are multiplying each day.

After the promise of an orderly, focussed approach we then spent the next three hours butterflying from one unfinished piece to another, achieving absolutely nothing. I can’t remember a worse day for a long time. The screen was becoming a nightmare. It begged the question that Colin may have possibly been correct when he prophesied that to fit the screen would be unfeasible. The day has been a complete disaster. This has been an extremely low point. We need to address our working practises seriously or the project decline into inertia.    

Lofty the lethario

Sat.27.05.06. The combination of Colin’s request of a payment of £300, for last weeks fuck up, along with  his ‘can’t listen, don’t want to listen’ attitude has oddly had a positive effect upon Chris. He is determined that Colin will not dictate the approach to the work, so given a task to complete he will follow precise orders to the letter or he will receive his P45. The similarity and manner of this situation brings back memories of Gypo Jake, the master mason of Tarascon. Mike, once a simple hard working peasant who grafted tirelessly perhaps honestly completing many difficult,  dirty tasks, in my French house, gradually mutated into a worthless, lazy, fraudulent, deceitful, incompetent twat who, later proceeded to rip me off to an obscene extent: as the French say ‘giving it me up the arse’ or, more politely ‘un vol organisie’. This will not be repeated. I have been there, seen the movie, got the tee shirt and have read the script. I do, sincerely hope that this will not happen with Colin, but watch this space.                                         

John Lowton  had promised Chris a work bench that at present, he had no use for. The bench was located in a lock up where Lowtie was storing several other pieces of furniture whilst he was having his cellar shored up after suffering several floods due to burst water pipes. We made the short journey to his ‘lock up’ in his battered ‘tranny’ van. However, the previous night a petulant Lowtie had stormed out of the Oak having waited for ten minutes to be served. “I’ve had enough of this, all I want is a flyer and they can’t even be bothered to serve me, bollocks to um” roared John. On our way to Westmead Lowtie returned to the subject of bad service. “I’m not going back there, they treat us like shit. Fuckin’ students, can’t be arsed serving wrinkled old fuckers like us. They stand at the top of the bar just ignoring us while they talk to their fuckin’ student mates. The jobs’ beneath them, they think that they are a fuckin’ cut above. The Doc doesn’t care, fuckin’ swaning around with his fuckin’ waistcoat wrapped around his ‘kench’ with his fuckin’ straw fuckin’ hat on his head. He needs to get a grip, we are the stupid bastards who are spending £100 a week, being looked down on by spotty fuckin’ students. You can’t complain because they treat you much worse afterwards, the fuckers. I’ve fuckin’ had enough I’m going to the Bowlie tonight, fuck um” Lowtie explained, whilst I nodded and agreed. After unloading the bench John posed the same argument to Chris who gladly added another list of faults to the, already, battered barstaff. “£150 a week I spend down there and they make you feel like a drunken old leper, some bum off the street begging for ale, I agree with you Lowtie I’m never going to set foot in the place again.

The day’s work behind us, surprise, surprise we re-grouped in the Oak where Toby was taking a few knocks. “How do you go on in the stones with the trough being so high, do you take a chair in to stand on whilst you’re having a slash?” Lowtie questioned. “No, I think he’s still got those telephone directories that Kenny gave him” Chris replied. “I don’t need to” responded Toby “my knobs so big I just lob it over the side and just drain it, when I’ve got a hard on I’ve had 13 budgies perching on it” boasted Lofty. “Aye, but the thirteenth was only standing on one leg” returned Chris. The tone lowered further when big titty Tracy served Toby with a sausage barmcake, he naturally fawned over her like a cheap suit. “He’s after finding radio Luxembourg on them” mumbled Chris noticing Toby getting ever closer to her ample cleavage. Lofty, playing to the crowd, seized his moment and began whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

 “He’s supposed to a family man, married for 32 years, a good catholic, a caring grandfather, a faithful husband. I’ll tell you what he’s like a tramp on a kipper, he’d shag a trapped rat” indicated Chris to the group, who now had become curiously interested in Toby’s antics. Typically, this mature, philosophical banter continued throughout the evening, but with the contented thought that we had wrestled the initiative from the Machiavellian Colin together with having had our faith restored in the Oak. This has been a successful day. 

From god to turd

Fri.26.05.06. Chris was still angry with Colin particularly after his negative comments regarding the apparent absence of organisation, process and methodology displayed in the workshop. He had been inordinately critical about the poor quality materials along with substandard equipment that had been offered, the untidy, confused, working environment echoed by the leisurely, uncertain progress, constantly, inevitably repeated. Chris was equally aggravated by Colin’s inability to accept any advice or instruction regarding basic construction techniques. During any problem solving exercise Chris would suggest an approach that would inevitably be questioned by Colin. After various scribblings, verbal exchanges, discussions about tolerances, stresses and strains, aesthetic qualities, engineering requirements, design proposal suitability, cost restraints, effective modification, feasibility studies had all been vigorously contested, yet even after a final agreement had been reached, Colin would still, doggedly, pursue his own path. The obvious consequence of this has been project stagnation. From being ‘the font of all knowledge’ Colin has been transformed into ‘this turd from Parbold’. He is the mischief maker, the saboteur, the cowboy craftsman, the sneering prefect, the egotistical superior ‘know it all’, but most of all ‘the man who has bit the hand that has fed him’.

Something must dramatically change to prevent freefall. 

Suspicion replaced by fondness

Returning to Westmead I felt that I deserved to treat myself to a pork pie, which I duly purchased from Ruben Marsden Master Pork Butcher. To this day I continue to be curiously confused as to why a Jewish person is selling pork pies. Nevertheless, I gobbled it down knowing that this could be the highlight of my day.

Chris, in the meantime, was phoning Richard regarding the types of engines that he had in stock but first he mentioned how solid and sound the chassis was. “You were right, Richard, that chassis was a belter, it hardly needed any welding” buttered Chris.   “Oh, by the way mate, have you any Spitfire seats as well as engines?” posed Chris. “Yes I’ve got a cracking 1300 spit engine plus a pair of immaculate 60’s seats” lied Richard. “No, we don’t want ‘good’ we want ‘bad’, we want to re-con ourselves” Chris pointed out. “Oh, I’ve plenty of crap on shelves and even more crap boxed up” replied Richard openly. “Make sure that you have plenty of tomato soup on the boil for when we come over; just like last time: it was the highlight of the day especially when prepared by your colourful assistant” chuckled Chris the joker. “I’ll go and put the saucepan on straight away; I’m glad to hear that you are making progress, take care and have a good day” was Richard’s parting exchange. I am sure that we are both warming to all the eccentrics that we are constantly meeting during the project. Suspicion and doubt has been replaced by fond amusement with tolerable acceptance. 

Just as we were leaving for the office Colin rang to ask how the day had panned out. He was in a very different mood from the day before when he sounded arrogantly abrupt. Ingratiatingly he humbly expressed his delight that we had cured the ills of the windscreen ‘expanding’ his initial design. “That sounds like the perfect solution,” grovelled Colin, attempting to clean up his nest. “Shall I come tomorrow to finish the chassis?” No, just fuck off.

Later in the evening I received three phone calls from Chris. Each one gaining in incoherency as the 8 pints of Stella kicked in: the final one being total gibberish. “Oh I’ve forgotten what I wanted to tell you, remind me” burbled the ‘tidy drunk’. “You’ve thought of a way of fixing the body panels?” I questioned. “No, not that” “You’ve thought of another way to fix the screen?” “No, not that” “You want me to pick up a car?” “No” “You want another pint of Stella?” “No, don’t be daft” “You’re going to grow your hair long?” “Now you’re being stupid” “You’ve sacked Colin and stuck some angle iron up his arse? Alan’s paid off his debt? WAJ has paid off his debt? Slippery Hampson has described a car accurately? the taxman has given you a rebate? the police have apologised for wrong full arrest?” “No, no, no, my brains gone, listen, listen, I’ll phone you tomorrow!” “Ok” I replied.      

Kevin takes both barrels

Thurs.25.05.06. Today we were faced with undoing the mess that had been left by Colin. We will never be sure that this butchery had been an act of pure malice, mischief, stubbornness or ineptitude. When the hinged folding brackets were fixed to the screen the overall size of the total unit was 100mm too wide. But, calculating that if a 50mm spacer was attached to both of the hinge mechanisms this vital extra 100m could be gained. On completion of the dry build this proved to be the case, the screen fitted perfectly, problem solved. It was then simple matter to re-build with fibreglass the sections of the scuttle that Colin had hacked away, to make possible the repair. The scuttle was now ‘made up’.

Effectively the screen should now rest in the correct position enhancing and not detracting from the overall appearance of the car. 

This day had also been interrupted by several visits to Slicks ferrying cars from one garage to another. At Slicks there is an amicable, but tense, arrangement between Kevin’s ex wife Pat, who runs the administrative service side of the garage, and Kath, his present partner, who is the chief mechanic on the shop floor. One is quite feminine the other, butch and aggressive. Waiting for Kevin, who at the time was completing an MOT for a customer, I noticed that a ‘Clio’, which had been ticking over for some time began smoking badly filling the yard with dark blue diesel fumes. I brought this to the attention of Kath who immediately switched the engine off; she then strode purposefully in the direction of Kevin expressing her annoyance at this over sight. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking tosser!” expressed Kath in plain but succinct English. Kevin glanced at the nearby client casually shrugging his shoulders in a kind of ‘same old, same old’ fashion. Soon after, with Kevin assisting as an additional driver, we left for the Renault dealership in nearby Chorley where I was leaving a car to be repaired whilst, at the same time Kevin was supposed to be collecting a part for the smoking Clio. Making our way back to the car we almost mowed down by Pat who enquired if Kevin had picked up the parts. “I couldn’t do it, I haven’t brought any money with me; anyway, I thought you had arranged for the bits to be delivered” replied Kevin feebly but honestly. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking wanker!” responded frustrated Pat. It seems that both women in Slick’s life are swearing from the same hymn sheet.

Colin shits in his nest

Nevertheless, after this unpleasant experience we returned to Westmead much later than expected to discover yet another unhappy sight. Colin had closed the workshop for the day but had left behind him a ‘dog’s breakfast’ that he had clumsily concocted during the afternoon. Laid before us was his bungling attempt at fitting the new screen. Mon fucking dieu, he had hacked at the scuttle top to bodge in the screen. Carving two symmetrical troughs on either side he proposed to accommodate the curved aluminium screen brackets The sunken pair were hideously covered in tete, bound by parcel tape, precariously held in place by string, screw drivers, wooden blocks and sticky backed plastic. 

Wide eyed we both gazed in disbelief at the mess. This was not the work of Colin, the craftsman, but of some fourteen-year-old spotty youth on a YTS scheme. “Why has he done that?” repeated the baffled, but annoyed Chris. “It will be impossible to maintain the contour of the bonnet unless he intends to remove a sizeable amount of the scuttle; just look at it, it’s a piece of shite, what has possessed him to do that?” “I told him not to do it that way, but that’s typical Colin he will always insist ‘his way is the only way’, he can be a stubborn bugger. I still can’t understand why he has chosen this method?” Chris was becoming dangerously annoyed and simultaneously aggravated. Colin’s motives now became the issue.

It was clear that he had performed this operation knowing that we both otherwise engaged, unable therefore to sanction this course of action.

The debate about this predicament continued down at the Oak. Chris having had a phone conversation with Colin on the route felt that his attitude was glib; Colin advocated that it was impossible to fit parts that were not designed for the car implying also that if we persisted in buying the ‘wrong bits’ there would be nothing he could do ‘except make a bollocks of it’. This was precisely the sort of argument that never fails to raise Chris’s dander, it was both irritating and tactless. Chris ruminated constantly over Colin’s throw-away lines. He resolved that Colin had purposely sabotaged the project to teach us a lesson, to state his indispensability or just to be simply bloody-minded. What ever his reason d’etre he was in the Ka ka. He had well and truly shit in his own nest.

Chris left for home to re-examine what we had already decided was Colin’s statement. Phoning at 9.30pm he was still wound up. “It was worse than I had first thought, listen, listen, the mans a lunatic, he’s not right in the head, he never does what you ask him to do, he’s good, but I’m not having him dictating to me” steamed Chris.

This has not been a good day, especially if you suffer from high blood pressure.        

      

Distraction proves disastrous

 Search Amazon.com for Triumph GT6

Weds.24.05.06. I arrived at Westmead around 2.00pm.to carry on the debate with Chris and Colin concerning the acquisition of a new engine. The GT6 engine and overdrive box seems the preferred option, provided of course that it is physically short enough to fit into the engine compartment. Was the engine four or six cylinders? 1600cc or 2000cc? Would the prop, differential and half shafts take the strain? Is the overdrive located at the rear, the bottom or the top of the box? These could be questions for Andy Monday of Rimmer Brothers to answer. At £400 it is a bargain, especially if the carbs, dizzy, water pump, starter motor, dynamo and other ancillaries are included. Earlier in the morning Chris and Colin had discussed the problem of fitting the narrower Morgan screen. Unfortunately, they were both supporting different solutions.

Leaving Colin at Westmead to ‘perfect’ his solution both Chris and I departed later that morning to collect two vehicles, along with Dick of Deliverance fame and Alan (Suttons autotraders)  from at Preston and Blackburn. We also intended to present Colin’s proposed plans for the engine compartment to ‘Simmals’ the local aluminium suppliers, who will cut and bend the 4 panels that were required. Alan, I am led to believe, is a trained race track driver but it didn’t stop me bricking myself as he weaved in and out, at pointlessly fast speeds, in city traffic in the ‘top heavy’ Discovery. Meanwhile, totally oblivious, Dick was puffing on his pipe alternatively repeating fables from his dubious successes on ‘e’bay’ as well as quoting fictitious statistics about the famed GT6 engine. This was after an opening declaration by Chris, “Now Dick, before you start, I don’t want any bullshit, but was the GT6 engine a four cylinder 1600 or a six cylinder two litre block?” Dick, unfazed, continued to ramble on about the 4 pot or 6 pot, the cross flow Ford compared with the Zetec, claiming the Nissan 2 litre to be the real deal and lastly he boldly stated, the TR3 and not the TR4, was a big old pig. He finally summed up this diarrhoea by committing himself to the 1275 BMC Midget engine. “What did I tell you Dick, I wanted concise facts not utter crap, why do I bother, I should know better?” mumbled Chris, truly regretting the initial request. However, all of this tripe was deflecting the terror that we were all suffering at the hands of Alan’s manic driving. Chris, eventually, reminded Alan that it was imperative that he controlled his blood pressure. “Sorry pal” repented Alan, “I thought that you enjoyed driving quickly?” “I did, but that was when I was able to see clearly out of both eyes, before I had my stroke and, which is most important, I was actually driving the vehicle! ” explained purple faced Chris.  

Engine worries

Tues.23.05.06. As I was speaking to Richard this morning the eventful day that took Chris and I over the Pennines in March, to acquire the new chassis, came flooding back like an Indonesian mudslide. Luckily, we did persist buying our present chassis, which in fact has turned out to be an integral component of the project. At the time, the sight of Richard in his well worn, oil stained pin stripe suit, his scrap collection of dead motors, creaking suspension units, rusting springs, tired engines, sagging seats, seized dynamos, oxidised carburettors and manifolds, along with his mysterious, inbred, Goth sister combined with his promises of ‘mint parts’ had previously filled us with genuine doubt and disappointment. Our expectations of an orderly, tidy parts department could not have been further from the truth, yet in hindsight there were bargains to be had, but the journey, the location of the yard and the slightly crazed Richard had all taken their toll. The route back to Lancashire had warmly beckoned; the hope that the chassis was as original as Richard claimed was the only redeemable thought that had kept us going.

Richard sounded like his usual cheerful and confident self. He has a totally re-built, brand new GT6 engine and overdrive box for £400, an assortment of 1300 and 1500 Spitfire engines from £200 to £350 with or without ancillary components. Wouldn’t I just love to believe him, drop in the straight six and woosh off down the road. He still might be worth a visit for the odd bits that are either overpriced or no better from Rimmers or the Chorley sheepdips. 

Today has been another frustrating attempt regarding the advancement of the project, even with consummate endeavour little or no progress has been achieved. In reality, beginning to clean major items such as the differential and suspension units is another phase in the development of the project. It indicates that the body panels, tub and chassis are almost completed ready to be signed off; they can be sent off to be painted then powder coated. Whilst away, all the major units can be re-built, made ready waiting to be attached to the vehicle on its’ return. On a visit to Slicks, later in the day, I recovered the engine block, which we believe will not match up to the head for reasons that shall be explained. After several years of running the car I decided that I needed more BHP so I changed the original head with a Triumph 1300 TC replacement. From that moment I suffered overheating problems. Several water pumps and cylinder head gaskets later the fault remained. Once the car exceeded 30 MPH the temperature gauge would rise steeply. It really pissed me off as I could not use the car as intended, ‘a fun sports car’. This reinforces the message ‘if it’s not broke don’t fix it. By trying to ‘fix it’ I had ‘buggered it’.

Chris and Colin, at first, suspected that without a header tank there would never be enough water in the system, promoting intermittent over heating. Recently, however, Colin noticed that the water ports on the head did not match the gasket. One, if not more, had been blanked off and restricted the flow of water around the block. On closer investigation at Westmead this proved to be the case, this basic fault appears to have been the main reason for the niggling problem. Neither the block nor the head is of any use to us. Richard, suddenly, becomes a definite contender as a possible source for a new engine; he is another who may crawl out of the fuck off bin.     

Another visit to Life's

Mon.22.05.06. I have been dispatched to Life’s Motors in Southport to buy a damaged Morgan screen and a pair of tilting screen supports. John, again, was extremely helpful offering to search out any other used or slightly damaged Morgan items that, potentially, could be of use to us. The screen was £50.00 (over £500 new) and the supports £60.00 (£200.00 per pair new).

Arriving back at Westmead Chris and Colin had finished the engine panels and were in the process of studying the scuttle top and how best to attach the screen brackets. Although the glass was broken in the screen it is still handsome piece of kit. The composition is chrome on brass but having a gently curving base with a much straighter top profile. The solid stainless steel brackets, which allow the screen to tilt and fold flat, are again of terrific quality, therefore adding another dimension to the vehicle. It wasn’t too long before a problem had emerged; the Morgan screen being slightly smaller, taller and incorporating an integrated concave base. These differences from the Burlington screen can be overcome by altering the scuttle top.

This will be more work for Colin but it is absolutely necessary if the screen is to ‘work’ with the vehicle. When I returned from an afternoon of delivering cars the modification was underway the screen having been already tested on the scuttle top. Apparently, the screen will be another super addition to the flowing lines of the car, mitigating the effort as well as the meagre cost.

We finished the day attempting to formulate a ‘stock-plan’ regarding the mechanical components of the car. Some can be salvaged but many are destined for the scrap heap. The recovered items must be cleaned and polished as if new and ‘out of the box’ fresh. The missing items must be sourced then subsequently purchased. Rimmer Brothers, at the moment are odds on favourite to land the hefty contract; having not heard a peep from the sheepdips of Whittle-le-Woods who, by now, are hurtling head long for the fuck off bin. I also need to contact Richard, of pin striped suit fame, in Sheffield, for a new engine and box.  

The windscreen concept begins

Search Amazon.com for Solving design problems

Fri.19.05.06. Colin and Chris have replaced the old engine side panels with new marine ply creating a preferential aero-dynamic design. The audacious approach to the windscreen has been adopted since, after much discussion we have decided to run with the idea of a dual system incorporating the collapsible full windscreen together with the aero screens. This then allows each system to operate independently of the other. The full screen when in the upright position will ensure the hood and wind deflectors can be used for inclement weather, whilst the aero screens can be fitted, when the folding main screen has been removed, for the warmer summer days.

Colin, always anticipating difficulties, has suggested a superior method of attaching the screen brackets to the scuttle sides: once fitted he intends filling their back edge to enhance the line of the scuttle. This should also emphasise that they are not just merely ‘bolt-ons’.

Andrew Monday, of Rimmer Brothers, had telephoned mid afternoon to verify that we had in fact received his communication. His earlier ‘fax’ was something that we chose to ignore, not just because of the varied prices of many of the components, but since other main suppliers had let us down badly in the past, we naturally assumed that Rimmers, who had not replied to our first request, would not be any different. When Chris did take the call he was extremely surprised to find that ‘Andy’ was incredibly knowledgeable about the world of Triumph, kit cars, suspension modifications, weighting calculations, braking systems, chassis tolerances, in fact, every technical problem that no else had been able to answer. Chris was even more impressed when prices began to tumble once he established himself as being ‘trade’. He was further encouraged because they both appeared to be talking the same ‘oily rag’ language. 

Having at last established this positive connection with a principle supplier, Andy of Rimmer Brothers, they have now been liberated from the fuck off bin presently standing firmly on the ‘pedestal of rock’ alongside John of Life’s motors.                                                                                                                             

I had missed all this excitement having spent most of the day delivering cars to various back street garages around the northwest. Returning to base late in the day I could only sense to the enthusiasm that filled the garage. I felt envious not having experienced, at first hand, the progress and sheer delights of the day. In comparison, mine had been a day of Shite.

The ‘awkward squad’ had returned from Porto. Knocker with peeling head, Jimmy the Axe with runny bot, Billy Green fatter, the Doc bemoaning not being able to ‘cook’ and Lewis with a suitcase full of contraband. This trip must have been comparatively successful as there were no arrests, missed flights, broken limbs or fallouts. Bummer. The Oak was packed with Friday night revellers just at the beginning of their liquid weekend. Vince and Linda, who we had not seen for quite sometime, were just leaving but we did manage a brief chat about holiday experiences, DIY problems and local rugby issues. Vince is the most generous person but he, unfortunately, has the reputation for repeating the same anecdotes over and over again. “Stop me if I have told you this one” would be his opening gambit to a story that inevitably had been recounted endless times, nevertheless, nothing was going to stop the further repetition of this weary tale, the Range Rover on Twickenham car park, the ten gin and tonics, not seeing the game, the great food in the restaurant, the early night, because now I have learned my lesson, knowing when to stop. “No you don’t because you’ve just told me the same fucking story again!” I thought to myself. He, together with Linda, are genuine toffs but it is always paramount to have an escape route in place to avoid being cornered and suffering the slow, relentless torture of being Vinced to death.

The group was swelling when Danny and Katie, Adrian, the brother of Danny, who incidentally is married to Vicky, Katie’s saltette sister strolled in. Danny was wearing his dad’s chequered sports coat or one that he had bought at a charity shop: there is absolutely nothing wrong with purchases at Charity shops, I have made in the past many astute acquisitions, particularly in Clitheroe: posh handouts from wealthy landed gentry. Consequently, he had to run the gauntlet of abuse from Lowtie, Andrew Higham and, of course, Chris. “Let me try it on, I have not seen one of those for years” Chris tactfully requested. “Just fits” declared the triumphant poseur, who by now was strutting up and down the bar like a gloating peacock eying up his harem. “Perhaps a few visits to the gym wouldn’t go a miss” suggested Danny observing the garment loosely hanging off the shoulders. Experimenting with various buttoning methods Chris continued, Jagger like, to parade around the room. Jason King, Norman Wisdom, Norman Vaughan and Frankie Vaughan were all referred to by the extremely well entertained on lookers. The coat was eventually returned to its’ embarrassed owner, Danny, or his dad, who took the jibes squarely on the chin.       

Whilst these antics were the focus of everyone’s attention another old friend had sloped into the bar. Joe Berry, who from a very early age had possessed the face of an old man. Rubbery, pleated, extensively folded, Joe had been lumbered with this boatrace for the last forty years. His present visage now has obvious advantages, time having stood still for Joe. At sixty he looks exactly the same as he did as a teenager. Unfortunately, he suffers from a weak bladder, on numerous occasions he would emerge from the ‘stones’ with a tell tale damp patch indicating that he had not quite made it. Many years ago he arrived at a Christmas Eve party at David’s with a huge piss stain down the front of his ‘kecks’ asking if he could borrow a pair of the host’s trousers. David duly obliged. Joe stood proudly at the top of the stairs clad in a pair fresh-pressed white chinos. Disaster struck after the first step, the flood gates opened, “whoops” mumbled Joe, “I’d best get my coat”. But to be fair that was a long time ago perhaps presently he has greater control over his bodily functions. Most of the crowd in the Oak had moved on when Joe began to show off the jack plug socket in his head. “It’s a recent operation, because I suffer from tinnitus I am allowed this £2000 electronic hearing device. I just plug in this amplifier and everything becomes stereo. I was listening to Pink Floyd the other night and I swear I had an out of body experience, I was tripping”. “No you weren’t, Joe, you were dripping” I commented, after noticing the damp stain on Joe’s Levis. The three of us left the pub, later than intended, only after all of the old memories had been re-lived. We staggered up the hill to Scarisbrick Street and home.

The beginnings of a new screen or a nightmare

Thurs.18.05.06. I arrived at Westmead to find Chris frustrated. The phone had never stopped all morning, the house had been noisy with sickly grandchildren, the level of dust in the house was beginning to annoy Marion, Chris’s wife, but notably there were nevertheless too many small, insignificant yet crucial jobs that must be completed today. Consequently his concentration span was below zero. We would begin one task, move to another, and another then another, never able to complete any. I occupied much of my time by tidying the garage, arranging the boxes of salvaged parts from the old chassis. Simple jobs, but essential. The job list that Chris had formulated had, in the main, been abandoned at the expense of a disruptive morning, followed by a leisurely lunch; both factors limiting the progress of the Burlington. 

The windscreen, folding or not, aero screens, yes or no, both or one had been debated thoroughly. The windscreen supports that we had bought the day before had given us too many options but had re-opened the choice of a fixed or removable screen. The real problem, however, was that the Burlington screen measured identically to that of the Morgan. I, personally, thought that this would never be possible, but it was. We could now use a genuine Morgan Screen if we wished. The issue of the budget for the car again came into play. A new screen at £400.00, wind deflectors at £100.00, adjustable screen supports at £100.00 were all compared to the alternative £60.00 used aero screens. We agreed to wait for Colin’s input tomorrow delaying the final decision. This would be the prudent option: so we moved on to the more mundane labour of rubbing down the wings then cleaning out the tub. The day had finished on a high note; the morning slough of despond had evaporated into ambitious hope. We were back on track