Better building days

Mon.23.10.06. It has been a fiddly seemingly unproductive day but in reality many lose ends have been boxed off. Chris has been assembling the various key components of the vehicle in the workshop. They are all in the half finished state. 

The entire front suspension has been virtually built up apart from the platform Spax adjustable shocker which is stubbornly refusing to accept the ‘superflex’ bush (the shoulder on the bush prevents the simple insertion into the eye of the shocker), the callipers are also resisting the spring loaded rubber seal and, lastly, there are two missing top spring plates (still to be ordered) which form the fixing points for the coils. The rear halfshafts have their new bearings but await the Hardy Spicers that connect them to the two outer flanges of the diff. The steering rack and anti-roll bar remain on the car separated from the column precariously hanging limply from the front hubs. All parts have been cleaned thoroughly, sealed with rust preventer then sprayed with the appropriate paint. Yet even though with this typically scattered evidence of disarray in every corner of the garage the joint potential of the sum of these parts can only be fully appreciated when fitted to the chassis. This is not a million miles away.

The underside of the chassis has had the final rub down in preparation for the second and final coat of Hammerite. The liquid, upon drying, has a self levelling agent that forms a dense, smooth, gloss surface. The chassis will now be inverted repeating the process, which should then allow the four corners of the vehicle to be built up to form the rolling chassis.

The news from ‘Neil’, who has the responsibility to rebuild the gearbox, has been promising. Having stripped down the box he has found little, if any, damage. The cost of gaskets plus the rebuild still needs to be addressed but, fingers crossed, this should not be a huge sum of money comfortably justifying the exercise. Given the ‘blind’ circumstances of the purchase of the box the only choice was an investigation into its actual condition and, hopefully, a trouble free rebuild. 

Ignoring the apparent, ever present, random chaos the project is moving forward. There has never been a situation were there has been compromise or ‘make do’. The confirmation of which fills the garage. These are the days that should be relished and enjoyed. 

Musical Tat.

Coincidently, the conversation then drifted into a selection of musical anecdotes. Fat Kenny remembered the occasion when a friend of his, who was a member of a totally shite, rock band, was ‘setting up’ for a gig at the Blue Parrot in Aspull. The club was owned by local impresario Bill Leyland who, at the time, also happened to be the only gay in Wigan. He ran the club on Sunday afternoons as a strip joint but occasionally would throw in some free music in the form of an auditioning band. This was to him, a smart, cheap manoeuvre. 

Kenny’s mate as well as being a bad musician was also a poor drinker. The remnants of ten pints from the night before were still ‘kicking in’ just as he had finished the sound check. He slumped into a chair on the stage promptly falling asleep. In the meantime the first stripper began her routine. Thinking that it would be an amusing ‘titbit’ for the audience, she began massaging her sagging breasts into the face of the sleeping rock star. Raising his left eyelid he uttered the words “Is that the best that you can do, luv?” Before he could return to his slumbers she cracked him across the face smartly at the same time carrying on, unruffled, with her routine. I recall a similar incident when I was gigging at the The Lower Ince Old Hall, a local, notorious shithole. A young girl from the sparsely assembled crowd, volunteered to perform a strip for the five people that were left in the room. Having removed her bra she revealed two tiny bee sting nipples. Attached by masking tape were two silver tassels which swung around independently. She clumsily gyrated, stick like, tottering around as a wounded, fragile insect until the music itself died. Attempting to collect some money for her efforts from the resident hookers she was battered to the floor because “she had brought their noble profession into disrepute”. Bruised and bleeding our keyboard player offered her comfort for the night. She left her tassels as a parting gift for him in the morning. There was a four piece harmony band called ‘The Chimes’ who had scored a major hit in the sixties but having faded in popularity during the eighties were destined for the national club circuit. They were in the North East for a mini tour taking in some of the rougher nightspots. Before they came on stage the Compare was apologising for the quality of the previous acts. “You’ll be glad to know that we have sacked our concert secretary together with the entertainments agency that he used; but sad to say we still have to retain some of the artists that he had previously booked. Not to worry, we are down to the last of the ‘crap’ acts. Please put your hands together for ‘The Chimes’. Their second spot was introduced even more succinctly. “Please welcome back on stage; four coons from Liverpool, ‘The Chimes’. The final tale and possibly the most humorous came later that evening when Andy Lewis recalled an ‘after time session’ in the Oak when his band had returned, in the early hours, from a gig in Lancaster. The band members were sat around with the Doc discussing all the stuff that they hadn’t seen since childhood. Each member had to volunteer something from the past: Andy suggested ‘Sherbert Dip’, Jimmy the Axe ‘Jubblies’, Carlos spoke of liquorice and Alan of ‘gob stoppers’, so when it was the turn of the Doc everyone expected much of the same, ‘space dust’, ‘broken biscuits’, ‘pea wet’ or ‘babbies yeds’, but not to disappoint, the Doc offered “I’ll tell what I’ve not seen in many a year, ...... ....!” The immediate silence was broken with the group suddenly realising that it was very late and they really should be off home. Having the very same reaction I grabbed my coat and returned home, again uplifted by the ‘craick’ in the Oak.

Good Components?ELP

Fri.20.10.06. Colin has been cutting then welding the seat rails. These were not a perfect match for the 63’ seats as original runners are extremely rare, if not impossible to find. But Colin has gained great satisfaction from a mornings work, cutting, grinding and welding so that the ‘bastard’ runners fit perfectly. Colin, typically, is also not happy with the exhaust system as it falls below his standards. 

The alternative would have cost in excess of £500.00 but would still require the same amount of time and effort to make it fit. A direct route has been chosen from front to back, dividing at the differential, running the individual back box sections around, but parallel to the fuel tank. The baffles may hang very low but this can only be tested when the car is standing at its proper driving height.

Having examined the order from Paddocks Chris is relatively content with the provenance of the parts and has begun to assemble the front and rear suspension units, but, “It might say Lucas, England on the box but it’s been made under licence in friggin’ India!” Oh well, it’s been another one of those days.

Down at the Oak the gang had gathered with first of all Steven opening with his proposals for the Sunday sermon, the crux of which contained his ‘off road’ exploits during the week. The gist of which would be that he was an ELP (easily led person).

To put your complete faith in any one person, because they claim to be an expert and for that person to continually use the phrase “trust me”, is misguided possibly leading to disastrous consequences. One must always believe in one’s own judgement. Steven knew that the boggy ground was ahead but ignored his own feelings of danger after been falsely encouraged by a friend to push on. The basis of the sermon on Sunday would be ‘unwarranted trust’, which does appear somewhat of a contradiction when the church persistently promotes ‘blind faith’.  

The excellent James Paddock

Thurs.19.10.06. The project is a Roller Coaster ride. From the apparent stagnation of yesterday there has been a huge leap forward by a simple trip to James Paddock of Chester. 

Chris had applied the first coat of Hammerite to the visible underside of the chassis producing a tremendous transformation. All the blemishes, repairs and alterations have disappeared under the skin of the paint. The chassis glows like a resting, taught, black automaton reminiscent of a ripped, mesamorphic athlete basking in the dusty debris of the strip lit workshop. It is a long awaited and wonderful sight. After the admiration had subsided the mundane, but vitally important, question of monetary reconciliation had to be addressed. I had been encouraging Chris to settle the debt of ‘cash and wages’ for sometime. He is a self confessed worrier when accounts are mentioned. I have attempted to take the weight of this issue out of his hands regularly providing monthly reports to keep him up to speed with the balance sheets. I quickly discovered that most of the presented data was never scrutinised, it was only the bottom line total that had any relevance. Given this scenario I, later, just offered a rolling, ever deceasing amount that he could better appreciate, rather than itemised detailed accounts. I had also been suggesting that we should totally reconcile the debt and that in the future, I alone should be responsible for all payments involved with the Burlington. Remarkably, this was agreed and I found myself on the road to James Paddock of Chester clutching the final credit payment of £980.00. 

I suspect that it had been a huge relief for Chris to see this debt wiped out because at the start of the project this had been the mutually agreed method of ‘settling my wages’; I was paid in kind, car parts and labour, rather than hard cash. Chris has always run his life not owing a penny to anyone; not a bank, building society, insurance company, motor trader or even the government, so to have this ‘paper’ debt must have irked him somewhat. With the final ‘wedge’ divvied up we can begin from a fresh, blank sheet. I suspect that we may progress rapidly from now on. The entire cost of the renovation as from today and up to press is £7727.27 from an initial early target of £3000. Jo would freak if she only new.

The premises at James Paddock did not disappoint. The building itself was situated on a relatively new and prosperous trading estate to the west of Chester. The entrance opened into a small, brightly lit office fronted by a small sales counter. The walls were covered with Triumph memorabilia from all the range of sporting as well as touring models. I was greeted by John who over the past few weeks had suffered numerous phone calls normally resulting in many changes to our order. A pleasant, soft-spoken man he was tall, smart and knowledgeable. At last we have found someone who actually appears normal on planet Triumph. I entered the stores through an adjacent door to check our assembled order.

 The storeroom was lined in an organised manner with a multitude of dexion shelves each itemised, packed with branded, industry standard parts. As we travelled through the invoice each component proved to be, as described by John, correct in every detail. Borg and Beck, Lucas, GKN, Vanderville, Spax, Girling, Stanpart, they were all present and brought a satisfied smile to my face. Since the original request many more items had been added to the list. Namely…… 

Due to the scale of the order John gave us an additional 5% discount. The total bill for the invoice was £1059.72. (I hope money well spent). During the intervals whilst collating the stock I managed to sniff around the stores to unveil even more treasures. Good wire wheels, stunning minilites, re-con gearboxes and heads, carefully packed upholstery and racks of branded, top goods. Finally, after six months of sheepdips, bullshitters, anoraks, liars and thieves we have struck gold. I thanked John for his help, advice in particular his patience. I returned to Standish, unloaded the swag and waited for the phone call. Around 9pm Chris confirmed that he was pleased with the parts and said, enthusiastically, that “at last, we’ve won one!” d’accord.                 

False accusations

Weds.18.10.06. The project has been on hold today. The Discovery remains marooned in the swamp despite the best efforts of the two determined ‘off roaders’. Only simple tidying jobs, a bucket load of planning and an extra coat of Glanvilles rust proofing have been achieved today.

From the euphoric highs of the weekend the week has descended into aimless, vacuous, repetitive, past promises of “You’ll be amazed how quickly this will come together (yes, I will), we must sort out the finances (I have, you have not), you’ve not been paying attention (and you have?), you should have been on that internet finding out about these suppliers (I have phone numbers, web sites and e’mail addresses coming out of every orifice), we’ve done it all arse about face (you’re the boss), we need some sort of work schedule (you will discover that it is, in fact, taped to the wall along with all the others that have been completely ignored), it’s a good thing it’s not a race (but it is a fuckin’ race, it’s called The fuckin’ Beaujolais Run). The ‘headless chicken’ business plan is becoming mind numbingly frustrating, the complete absence of disciplined workshop management is in direct contradiction to the indispensable rigorous demands of conventional procedure. I am also increasingly pissed off  by personal accusations of apathy, poor craftsmanship and ‘not being organised’. But I am always reminded of that old Viking proverb, “Don’t forget to pillage before you burn”. This of course sounds very mercenary but I progressively sense that both Chris as well as I require an amicable end to this project.    

Love stories

Tues.17.10.06. The morning’s efforts have centred upon phoning the final order for Paddocks, contacting Revington Sports who can supply 150lbs front springs for £43.00 and TRGB of London who have a stainless steel 4 branch manifold plus a big bore exhaust system for £325.00.                                                                                        The chassis has been stripped down, inverted in preparation for a last rub down before rust proofing and painting with Hammerite. Later in the afternoon I transported the gearbox to Neil of ‘Preston gearbox repairs’. 

His brief is to investigate the actual condition of the box assessing the cost of repair or rebuild. Meanwhile Chris with Preacher Steven was having another blast with the Discovery on the land. All went well until the same boggy patch was re-discovered dragging the four wheel leviathan  leisurely into the black swamp completely covering the axles. The two intrepid explorers trudged back to David’s farm to pick up Steven’s van leaving the sad ‘Disco’ to the elements of the night. Coincidently, it has not stopped raining since; speculation continues to grow as to how far the vehicle has travelled down the river Douglas. The consensus in the Oak was that it would probably be wedged under the passenger bridge adjacent to Tesco.

There was a full squad in the Oak that evening, with Doc’s band rehearsing, Billy Green, Ian Thornley and Les Hilton were swelling the ranks, Captain Salty, Jamie and his girlfriend Alex with large ones were present together with Knocker, Lowtie, Steven the Preacher and his wife Carol, Jimmy the Axe, David and the distraught Adele. Earlier Knocker was elaborating about his last trip to Dubai where his primary role was one of ‘ice breaker’ for Lewis, Gleeson and Hampo. His directive was to sweet talk, cajole, but mainly entrap a congregation of the local ‘honeys’ around himself until the others suavely swooped down to claim the spoils, leaving the luckless, puzzled Knocker sucking his thumb. “Just because they all play rugby overtly brandishing their ‘gay’ physiques shouldn’t mean they get all the ladies; just wait and see, before we go next November I’m going to get fit, lose my kench, become a rippling hulk, that’ll show ‘em!” claimed Knocker confidently, whilst gently sipping his white wine spritzer. 

Lowtie having returned from a ten day trip to Sardinia wanted to catch up on the past weeks gossip, so he was instantly informed of Doctor Dave’s latest depraved sexual adventures with Rita the ‘ginger minger’ as well as his resignation from the university, which had transpired whilst defending a colleague. He had stormed into the principals office kicking over a waste bin ‘righting off’ a plasma screen, he then proceeded to miss his flight to South Africa, having lost his keys to his flat he was not able to gain access to pick up his luggage. The escapade in the swamp was retold, but this time Steven, although not driving, was naturally, as before, blamed for the misadventure. But, tragically, the worst news had yet to be passed on. Only yesterday, Adele had been for her regular daily walk with Trudy her Labrador. The dog, being quite old, was usually assisted into the back of the car. The vehicle would be slowly reversed to the side of a sloping bank enabling the fragile animal to step into the boot space. Whilst carrying out this manoeuvre Adele had not noticed Trudy behind the car then, disastrously, ran over the poor animal. Even a mercy dash to the local vet could not save her, she had to be put down. To lose a well loved pet due to natural causes is distressing enough but to have a hand directly in its demise or ‘murder’ must be impossible to accept. The sad news had quietened the pub so Jo and I left, after a brief chat with poor Adele, the dog slayer.  

Colin the cunning

Mon.16.10.06. Most of the day has been spent cleaning, spraying and painting the rear halfshafts and hubs. Nevertheless it has been a planning day, the time mainly occupied by collating the definitive order for James Paddock. There has been another request to prepare the ‘ultimate’ work schedule comprising of the ‘final push’ to complete the car: Chris still optimistically feels that the November deadline can be achieved. With the increased input from Colin this may be feasible. But having witnessed how Colin can cunningly manipulate any working situation I am not sure if this may, in fact, retard the building process. He has a canny act of discovering new, improved modifications that undoubtedly benefit as well as genuinely improve the vehicle, but at the same time inevitably extend the overall project by several days. 

Irrespective of Colin’s intentions what ever he ‘pulls out of the hat’, does contribute tremendously to the overall development of the Burlington. 

Back on track?

 Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Chris and Colin continued to press on with tasks in hand. Colin yet again, redesigned the mounting plate for the rear of the gearbox by introducing a sliding mechanism on the base; this will allow for ease of removal should there be a future problem. The 38-inch prop bought from Max turned out to be 37 inches but fortunately the bean can in addition to the extra adjustment on the engine mountings meant that there would not be a serious problem when actually fitting it. 

The Hardy Spicer joint at the differential end had to be changed from the 5 eighths model to the 3 eighths version to match the flange of the output ‘UJ’. But, once removed the bearings inevitably spilled out, so the component needs to be replaced. It was a simple matter to order one from our local supplier ‘Ledsons’ who promised delivery the same day. To fill the time whilst waiting for the part Colin assembled the rear leaf spring to the chassis utilising the original refurbished MK4 Spitfire part from the Burlington. The price in 1981 was £20.00. Re-bushed, stripped and cleaned the spring is as good as ever. He also, provisionally located the routing of the petrol filler cap. Simultaneously, Chris was enjoying himself cleaning the dashboard instruments whilst at the same time busying himself by assembling the front hubs to the vertical link.

On my way back to Wigan I collected the new Hardy Spicer from Ledsons. 

Earlier in the day when I was placing the order Old Tom Ledson asked me what it was like working for Chris Ball, to which I replied that on occasions he was a little flaky but usually he was ok. Tom jokingly responded with “Is he still as tight as ever? he never sends any money with an order and never buys a drink; but give him my best regards anyway.” Having passed on the message Chris mentioned that upon my return, I was to offer Tom a 2 pence tip along with his brothers Paul and Joe informing him also that there would be a drink waiting for him behind the bar of his local: a tea bag.

           

Win some lose some

Fri.13.10.06. Lost again. I received the dreaded phone call around 10.30am. “Colin has pronounced the exhaust system is in fact a piece of shite, there is little hope of it ever fitting the car, the carburettors should have been free considering their condition, the rev counter works backwards and the prop shaft is not new but a rough ‘cobbled up’ illustration of a painted downspout; we’ve been done again mate!” and a very good morning to you, Christopher, I cheerfully replied. 

On arrival at Westmead two glum faced, disappointed, troubled people greeted me. It was obvious that every feasible permutation had been attempted to fit the exhaust system but the simple fact was that because of the comprehensive adjustments to the drive train any standard, off the shelf manifold, pipes and back box would not fit. Colin is capable of cutting, welding and forming any conceivable combination of twists and turns but the effort involved would have been misspent as the stainless steel itself was of a very poor quality, consequently it would probably not have withstood the major surgery required. The twin SU’s for £70.00, according to Colin was daylight robbery, and would not even justify the purchase of a repair kit to set them up; (I wondered if Colin would like to make an exhaust system and come to think of it, he may also have a spare Webber lying around?) The burning question was whether or not Big Max would stand by his word refunding the money on the returned goods. “There are all the same, thieving, lying, robbing bastards; I don’t know why we bother with them, you’ll not get your money back!” the mood in the workshop deteriorated further as I began to load the Discovery with the unwanted parts despondently setting off down the M6 to Totally Triumph.

Max was up to his eyes in sparks from his angle grinder as he edgily toiled away on a £6000.00 renovation project commissioned by another deluded soul who thinks that they will have the best car on the block when the work has been completed. I do not include myself in this band of misguided fools but I have witnessed this scenario many times; I have the ‘T’ shirt with MUG logo emblazoned on the front having also seen the movie. No amount of money thrown at a third party will ensure perfect results. It is not their car, they have little or no personal baggage or emotional connection with the vehicle, as such they couldn’t give a rats whether the final product was good, bad or ugly (Clint Eastwood, that slimy bloke with slitty eyes and the ‘short, fat, bit part’ actor with a foreign name). Looking up from his labours Max smiled but he unsurprisingly sensed that I wasn’t there to buy more stuff but bring back the bits that we did not want. “No problem, I told you at the time that I would ‘refund’ and that’s what I’ll do, I’m not like that slippery twat up the road, most people in this game would never return ‘money’, but I am a man of my word!”  Sure enough after several counts on his fingers we both concluded that I should receive £130.00 together with a replacement drive shaft, but I had incurred a charge of £10.00 for splitting one shaft and battering the shite out of the other one. 

The meeting had been amicable so much so I felt bold enough to ask him why he was taking so many pills and not drinking. “I’ve got diabetic homophobia, the worst case in Britain,” I recalled the previous conversation about ‘swirl’ so, just as before I didn’t ask whether or not he was a ‘sugar free member of the BNP’ or I may have simply misheard the name of his medical problem. “Not long ago I was hospitalised in ICU for five weeks, this morning I fell over and couldn’t get up, there are some days when I am just aching all over as if run over by a steam roller, I shouldn’t really be working, I should never have started this business anyway having to deal with the general public with their painfully whingeing stories about their precious fuckin’ cars: anything else you want to know?” Perhaps I should not have asked him the question in the first place but we shook hands, I wished him well and with much relief crawled up the motorway back to Wigan.