Lessons learned

 Fri.15.09.06. I had made an early start so I was able to purchase two extra pieces of marine ply from Savoy Timbers to take to Richie’s workshop where he could fashion the new engine panels. The leading edge also needed rebating to accommodate the steel mounting brackets. 

The inferior aluminium had already been stripped from the former plywood panels but later it could be used to form the floor pan of the engine bay and the air deflectors. Naturally, the ‘finished article’ by Richie was impeccable but a ‘puzzled’ Chris could not understand why he had made such a dog’s breakfast of the previous work when he is obviously capable of such accuracy and quality. Colin will now re-draw the necessary plans for ‘Simmals’, our local supplier, who will provide first-rate aluminium along with equally appropriate workmanship.                                                                   

When Chris had left the garage for a moment I tentatively approached Colin regarding the possibility of cutting doors in the body tub. If we were spending so many man hours developing and amending the original design it would appear logical to make yet another bold decision to have ‘proper’ doors on the car. The prospect of not being able to drive the car ten years down the line because of creaking, aged weary tired bones effecting it impossible to climb into the fucker, has shaped this reasoning. Colin agreed the feasibility of such a major alteration was realistic provided the existing body tub foundation remained intact. Hidden door hinges could be incorporated into the design to ensure that the gentle curve of the side panels would not be interrupted: the door catches could also be hidden on the inside of the cockpit preserving the integrity of the original lines. The seed of this venture must be planted carefully, cunningly and cleverly so that it is actually Chris who initiates the modification. “Let’s go all the way and put some doors on, let’s make her into a proper car!” I await his proclamation.

The prospect of having an overdrive gearbox has resurfaced again, resulting in another exploratory visit to Nutty Steve under the guise of exchanging the clutch pedal for a brake pedal. Of course, the real reason for the journey was to acquire a pair of seats and an overdrive gearbox, both of which were hastily included in today’s schedule. 

Upon arrival I again requested the provenance of the box, as expected lying Steve repeated the bullshit story of driving down the dual carriageway to the roundabout several times validating that all the gears were sweet and that the overdrive mechanism ‘kicked in’ when required. A pair of shagged out seats were eagerly dragged from his leaking storeroom, an ‘export’ clutch pedal exchanged for yesterday’s mistake, £300 pressed into the grabbing hand of grateful Steve and I was back up the motorway to Westmead before ‘one’ could say, ‘mug, sucker, idiot, dumb fuckin’ knob head, will you never learn your lesson?’