Spider Shaw

                                    Burlington Diary January 2007

Sat.06.01.07. I shall be departing for my winter break on the 11^th. Where possible I shall attempt in the next few days to leave enough in place so that Chris can continue the work. As requested another work schedule has been produced but how much of it will be followed is any ones guess. This is not a complaint, merely an observation based on the fact that every other programme of work has been ignored. I have become accustomed, contentedly to the meandering and repetitive nature of the ‘build’ as this has sensibly promoted a thoughtful, thorough approach. Three forward and two back. En avant. 

Lately, my eating habits have become completely out of control. My ravenous appetite is due to the fact that I have stopped smoking. I now concoct any trivial motive to visit the kitchen to snack upon biscuits, cheese, crisps, bread and left over food, slipping furtively to the lounge with a mouthful of nonsense grub. Jo has warned me repeatedly about this foolish habit but her observations have had very little effect, the result being I am rapidly piling on the weight, subsequently cultivating a giant kench. When Jo asks me to help her with some menial task, that I do not wish to complete, I have taken to threaten her with the response “I’ll go back into the kitchen and eat!”  This is a reference to “Spider Shaw”.  My old friend Ben, from Yorkshire, once spoke of a childhood schoolmate called Spider Shaw who when his mother called him in for tea refused to come in, always wanting to play outside for a little longer. His persuasive argument being that he would ‘pick his nose’ if she didn’t allow him to stay outside. Ramming a finger into his bugle and shouting back to his mother he would audaciously announce, “ast pick” (this roughly translates into, “mama, if you do not permit me to remain outside with my friends I have no option but to excavate my nose, what would you have me do, dearest mama?”). Not wanting her child to develop a pig’s nose she would always relinquish allowing him to stay with his friends. On another occasion the same Spider Shaw had to recite the poem “The jabberwocky” by Lewis Carol, to an assembled school audience. As preparation, reinforcing his confidence, he would continually reiterate silently to himself the title and the author “the jabberwocky by Lewis Carol, the jabberwocky by Lewis Carol”…etc..etc.. Come the hour, Spider eventually strode up to the footlights and proudly announced that he would perform “The Wobberjocky by Ronnie Carroll”. In an instant he had reinforced ‘spider is an arsehole’ bankrupting any chance of credibility within his peers. He continued throughout his entire school career to be the fool that he always had been. 

Chris has been in somewhat of a desperate mood recently, his inability to drive being the main cause of his demeanour. “You know, it used to be my life; I would just love to drive any where, all day, for work or pleasure; rallying, Karting, racetrack or mud road; it was everything. But I can’t do it anymore. Working on Bertie is all I can do now: taking her to bits and rebuilding here over and over again.” His apologetic remarks had the inference that the project was taking an inordinate amount of time because he “wanted and needed it” to be so. The entire exercise has been a therapeutic journey. This, for me also, is as valid a reason as any.   

Clutch doubts

21.12.06. Chris has finished repairing and painting the tub. All the edges have been glassed, tightly sealed from any penetration of water, grim and dirt. The actual underside of the floorpan has been rubbed down to a smooth flat finish. This has taken two coats of Hammerite to protect the surface from weathering. Regular hosing down upheld by annual cleaning should maintain this condition for the life of the tub. 

There is still some concern regarding the flywheel. The suspicion being that Cliff has skimmed far too much from the face of the wheel, which has, in turn, brought into question the ‘travel’ of the clutch. Subsequently I took both flywheels for comparison to Railway motors of Westhoughton to Andy and Eddie. This small but specialist company had been recommended by Alan of Suttons who had previously arranged for the repair work to completed on Danny Brennan’s burnt out BMW 850i clutch. The fault had occurred on the ‘buddy’ trip to Keswick. Whilst accompanied and encouraged by Chris to storm through the pass at ‘Shap’, to test the durability of the clutch, Danny had cooked it. The result was the worst damage to any clutch that Andy or Eddie had ever witnessed. If anyone could give a verdict on our puny flywheel these were the guys. I had been given instructions as to how to find their workshop but I was utterly amazed at the coincidence that would be revealed. Railway motors was once owned by ‘Les’ who, in1980 had been my next-door neighbour and friend. He was the first person to contribute to the car on the ‘first’ build. It was Les, in that very same workshop, who had welded the chassis as well as rebuilding the engine and gearbox. 

It was Les who helped me to push the rolling chassis back up the hill on Wingates lane to the stables at the back of the ‘Dog and Pheasant’ where I continued building the car. It was with Les that I bought a second hand hang glider to enjoy near death experiences from the top of Winter Hill with our clumsy attempts of flying. It was Les who continued to cheat death by falling from his roof breaking his pelvis and both arms, divorcing his wife of fifteen years consequently seeking a new direction by selling the garage to Andy and Eddie in 1981 to become a lecturer of mechanical engineering at Bolton Tech. After expressing astonishment and unquestionable surprise to Eddie about this bizarre, repetitious ‘déjà vu happening’ he nonchalantly shrugged whilst at the same time examining the flywheel. As expected there were tuts, chin scratching accompanied by condescending smiles. “That clutch is fucked and the flywheel is badly grooved” was his judgment. “But the clutch is brand new, out of the box?” I questioned. Of the six retaining bolts only four had been attached which had resulted in the plate sitting unevenly on the flywheel. “By not attaching the mechanism properly, not gradually tightening all six bolts in sequence you have ruined a brand new clutch; in fact your old flywheel is in better condition than the skimmed shitty one!” None of this was really sinking in but it was an all too familiar fairy-tale of poor craftsmanship leading to yet more delays.

I returned to Westmead with the bad news followed by the inevitable worn out discussions about the validity of Eddie’s conclusions. The decision was to make no decision. I think we were both suffering from ‘another fucking problem syndrome’ but also the trepidation of the impending presence of Christmas. We shall see what Brockie has to say?          

22.12.06. The tub has been completed, it is ready to be mounted onto the chassis. The flywheel and clutch remain unassembled.

Flywheel

Fri.15.12.06. Cliff has skimmed a huge amount off the flywheel. The pitting was so extensive and deep that it meant at least 3mm had to be removed. Nonetheless the wheel now has a brand new appearance and will accommodate the clutch with very little unnecessary wear. Chris, in the meantime has assembled the rear brakes, fitted the overdrive box, connected the prop and has begun to rebuild the timing mechanism. Later in the afternoon we turned the body tub to assist in the painting of the underside with Hammerite. We continue to tick over satisfactorily. 

Mon.18.12.06. The ‘tacho’ has arrived from “Europa” at a cost of £114.80. At 80mm it is smaller than the speedo and the four way clock, which are 100m. The time clock is 50mm whilst the vacuum, amps and double water and oil pressure are 40mm. This should make for an interesting retro arrangement on the dashboard. But, all of the ‘fonts’ are not identical but they are very similar. They are all “Smiths”, blackfaced with a silver bezel. Set on a walnut dash they should look the ‘dogs’.

No work has been completed on the car today. Perhaps we are having a Christmas slowdown. 

Component minefield

Weds.13.12.06. Chris has been determined to reinforce the boot space with extra glass and resin. The original construction is a hotchpotch of different materials and methods of build: marine ply, hardboard, angle iron, nuts, bolts, nails, screws, aluminium and glass. These have been brought together subsequently strengthened using fibre matting and resin. The boot space is as a result much more rigid this should prevent any possibility of the adjacent modifications of twisting then cracking due to the natural movement of the rear of the car. “It’s belt and braces but let’s have it right”.

Thurs.14.12.06. I have had another pleasant trip to Paddocks of Chester for some essential components.

Along with the order I also exchanged the clutch. We had formally received a 1500 Spitfire Borg and Beck clutch but only this week have discovered that it does not fit the fly wheel or the input splines on the overdrive box. The clutch is actually 7 inches in diameter having 20 splines on the disc. After speaking with John, who has confirmed that the box is probably out of a MK4 spit, he recommended that we can only fit a 10 spline 6 and half inch clutch. This would exactly match the input shaft and also the flywheel. Because of the extra power from the stage 2 head, twin one and a half SU’s, road race cam and big bore exhaust generates it would be advisable to fit a larger clutch; but this has proved to be impossible as that configuration does not exist. The damage on the flywheel purchased from Max in addition to the badly worn ring gear has persuaded us to use the original wheel. This is, unfortunately, is very badly pitted due to being stood for 15 years. It must be skimmed then polished. 

We were becoming quite dejected having waded through the ‘yellow pages’ being dismissively rejected by all of the engineering shops. Most workshops had not carried out this procedure for many years as a result were not tooled up for such a simple process. ‘Engine Teckniks’ who were the favourites for the job, explained that removing the retaining plugs alone is a mammoth task, they would also need to use another company to skim the wheel. This would be quite expensive probably taking up to at least 7 days. Chris cynically remarked that we were plunged, yet again, into the world of ‘mythical’ bollocks. To prove this, he proceeded to comfortably punch out the plugs as I continued sifting through ‘yellow pages’. Eventually, “Wigan Engine Services” confirmed that they could skim and polish the wheel.

They had moved from the original premises 4 years ago presently having an extensive workshop in Rosebridge; somewhat fortuitously, I had been using a 2002 yellow pages which still had the company listed. Since their recent upgrade they preferred not to deal with the ‘public’ only choosing wisely, to focus upon trade customers. They hadn’t touched an engine for as many years but now specialised in the manufacture of unique, one off engineered parts. They were prepared to do the job as a favour for £20.00. I quickly drove down to their shop and was met by Cliff the owner. Short, stocky with bandy bulldog legs, cropped curly white hair, a battle scarred head and ruddy weatherworn face, horseshoe lip and barrel chest he smiled, examined the wheel. “Aye, no problem, we’ll have it ready tomorrow.

We don’t normally deal with public, they’re usually a bunch of tossers. You build them a brand new engine, they then run it dry, fry the head expecting to bring it back under guarantee. I prefer trade; sound orders, regular work and most importantly, appreciation,” he was blunt, succinct but correct. I hastily returned, that we were, in fact, trade; we were rebuilding a car for a friend, we normally only sell cars within the industry, never to the public for the very same reasons. “Yeah, trying to sound ‘trade’, I agree with you Cliff, they’re all a bunch of tossers”. Smiling shiftily but with a degree of false empathy I left Cliff speeding  back to Westmead with the good news.   

More Tub

Tues.12.12.06. Just when I thought that we had seen the last of the tete dust we are now in our second day of glassing, filling and sanding. The body tub has been inverted onto its other side to enable and facilitate the clean mending of the hidden areas that could not be accessed the previous day. 

Proud nuts, rough glass and general lumps and bumps were removed followed by a generous rubbing down with 40’s. Breathing in the dusty fumes from the old and new glass brought back the endless days in summer when the mammoth task of fixing the windscreen occupied all of our working hours. By early evening most of the preparation had been accomplished leaving only small areas to be filled then rubbed down delicately. The underside of the tub has been transformed from a careless, forgotten ignored element of the car into a precious, polished constituent equal to any other aspect of the vehicle. It has retained its unique combination of remarkably strong, healthy marine ply, rudimentary angle iron and resin based fibre glass, but fabricated, fashioned and honed into a smooth, level plane underpinning the central robust foundation of the body. 

I have spent most of the morning chasing pre-ordered components. Andrew Turner has received the worn out SUs, courtesy of ‘Parcel Force’, so, with any luck he is at present assembling their replacements, Danny will continue priming the front offside wing and bonnet tomorrow, John is tolerantly still accepting the many ‘bolt ons’ that I regularly add to the Paddocks requisition. I have at last located a compatible ‘tacho’ to complete the assembly of instruments that will form the staples of the dashboard. Europa spares have, what seems to be, an 80mm, black faced, silver needled clock with the correct ‘Smith’s’ fonts and appearance (£95.00). Fingers crossed. Regrettably, the proposed electronic ignition system, from ‘SC parts’, that was intended to replace the ‘old fashioned’ distributor mechanism cannot be used as this unit has not been designed for a Triumph 13/60, as such an alternative will need to be sourced. Bummer.

Nonetheless, I feel that the project is slowly yet painfully steadily rolling along once more. Considering the many distractions at this time of year (fuckin’ Christmas) this is an achievement in itself.

Tub and More

Fri.08.12.06. It has been a boring but very necessary day, cleaning and polishing basic components such as the engine front plate (essential when fitting the cam) and the distributor clamp. A big yawn, but somewhat of a buzz knowing that old original parts have once more been rescued.

Mon.11.12.06. The body tub has been turned on its side to assist the cleaning of the underside. The base of the tub is in remarkably fine condition. There were absolutely no areas of damage to the marine ply base, even the edges had not been penetrated by moisture preserving the laminates utterly intact. This was in part due to the fibre glass matting that had been used to wrap the vulnerable extremities of the platform therefore protecting the structure of the timber from both road dirt and the sixteen years of damp storage. Several sponge mats placed on the workshop floor prevented the tub from being damaged throughout the procedure. The base was then washed and scrubbed using first of all petrol followed by 80’s glass paper to eradicate the most stubborn of grime as well as clinging muck. An angle grinder removed the protruding heads of the obsolete nuts plus any other metallic extrusions that formed the untidy parts of the original construction. Unbeknown to Chris whilst he was he was happily grinding away the ferocity of the sparks had accidentally ignited the residual petrol fumes from the earlier cleaning process.

As the flames gradually climbed up to his knees I managed to draw his attention to the fact that he was actually on fire. His tunnel vision by and large prevents him from seeing anything that is below waist level; the flames not being an exception were dancing merrily around his feet before he even noticed. Only leaping to one side was he able to douse the spreading conflagration. I do forget sometimes that Chris does have a real problem with objects that are low down usually outside his field of vision. He is continually stumbling, tripping over ground level objects because he is unable to actually see much of what is on these lower planes. I recall leaving Humphrey Moons showroom on one occasion when Chris, having said his farewells, turned hastily to find himself tumbling headlong into an open topped MR2 leaving his feet waving in the air. Climbing out he then caught the wing mirror with his case almost breaking it from it’s’ fittings. Apologising to Humphrey he then, the second time around, fell clumsily onto the car breaking the mirror clean off. To which Humphrey responded “Chris, if you really want that mirror so badly you might as well take it with you.”

The underside of the tub has cleaned up tremendously well. The rough edges have been smoothed to create a perfectly flat surface which is now ready to take the final coat of Hammerite. Any other square, crude angles will be masked with aluminium to soften the contours to also aid ‘the floor to ground’ aerodynamics. Colin often refers to the significance of ‘air flow’, ‘downward pressure’ and many other racing details but he really can be ‘Billy Bullshit’ at times. 

More puzzles

Thurs.07.12.06. Richie has re-cut the cardboard engine bay panels in MDF. When fixed to the central tub they will facilitate essential fine sanding which in turn should provide a much more accurate template for the definitive aluminium panels. I have rapidly realised that it is absolutely imperative that engineers are provided with only faultless patterns if they are to fabricate exactly what is required; anything less results in imprecise, careless product, as was the case with Andy’s efforts when he attempted to manufacture the engine side panels with poor, inexact blueprints.

Dick had visited Chris around lunchtime for some car business but soon became sucked into the workings of the Burlington engine. Dick is no mean ‘spanner man’ boasting the title of a time served mechanic. But whilst fitting the ‘road race’ cam both he and Chris noticed that the alignment with the cam followers was incorrect, it appeared that either the cam was too long or the locating plate (camshaft to block) needed packing. “Look, Chris, I have always told you this, you are always better off with good old English stuff instead of modern Indian crap. It’s always machined badly and made from shite steel,” was Dick’s perceptive synopsis of the quandary before them. I was therefore required to return to the workshop with the original cam in order to measure the two together. Both seemed identical in length and the puzzle of the discrepancy became even more baffling. Dick lit his pipe, scratched his head, checked the two cams but remained perplexed positively bewildered. He descended into bullshit, “It could be that the locking washer’s too small or the sprocket-camshaft idling plate has worn too thin or maybe it’s just the shim pedestal thrusting at an acute angle; it’s definitely mystifying.” Dick speedily took his leave as well as his defective, flawed analysis, back to Planet Deliverance leaving Chris and I to ponder further. 

Eureka! Chris, eventually, realised that the engine front plate had not yet been fitted to the engine block; this would account for the missing 3 mm. The problem had now been solved. The embarrassment of phoning Max or Phil had been averted, luckily we had saved ourselves from another “If you don’t know what you are doing you shouldn’t be even attempting the fuckin’ job, so leave the fucking thing to the professionals!” 

The fault finding did not stop there. The input shaft of the overdrive box is too large for the clutch that has been purchased. The fly wheel is also not compatible with the clutch as a consequence it will be crucial to first of all, match a clutch to the shaft and secondly match the clutch to a flywheel. This not insurmountable but has caused another hiccup that we don’t need.

Today has been another stark lesson in patience, logic and experience.

Phoney Religious nonsense

We were joined in the Oak by Doctor Dave and the landlord, both of which were thankfully, almost sober. A discussion from the previous night had re-surfaced in the form of a religious homophobic debate awash with gargantuan generalisations bolstered by farcical proposals.

“It’s no wonder loads of people are leaving the protestant church yet the Catholics can keep all their members. As soon as any church admits that they encourage gays and lesbos they’re finished. You never hear the Catholics saying that they have ‘shirts in their ranks; that’s why they’ve got so many members,” was the opening statement from Chris.

“So if you admit to having practising ‘billies’ in your church your congregation will become decimated,” questioned the landlord. “Now which protestant church would that be?”

“Yes, which churches are you actually referring to? The low or the high, the Baptists or the Methodists, the left or right footed Catholics? added Doctor Dave.

“You know what I mean, don’t be awkward. Ok. Let’s just look at the difference between St. Johns and Wigan Parish. I would bet that there are more people in St.Johns on Sunday than Wigan Parish, and that’s because there are too many ‘shit stabbers’ in the church,” defended Chris.

“What about the recent scandals with priests, shaggin’ alter boys? The Catholic church has finally owned up to that; haven’t they?” commented the landlord.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t here. It happened in America. We all know that the Yanks think they can do anything they want, anytime they want, anywhere in the world” responded Chris. “Look in your nearest bible and I think that you will find that man with woman is fine but man with man is not approved by the ‘big one’. In fact, he does state that if anyone is caught pushing the lawnmower up the hill his dick will drop off to be then eaten by the beasts of the air.”      

“Where have you accessed all of this wonderful data, this well researched statistics that prove your theory?” pondered Doctor Dave, with his clever, know it all professors head on.

“It’s been in all of the newspapers this week. I’ve suspected this was the case for some time; now it’s been proved beyond a shadow of a doubt. You see, regular folk don’t want ‘shirts’ fawning all over them on Sundays; telling them that they are wearing a nice tie or that their hair looks dreamy; they want good old fashioned tough religion, finger wagging, fire, brimstone, boiling oil, being beaten with wet socks, all reinforced by dark, menacing, threatening behaviour from the men of God.” I rest my case 

The argument continued with the landlord making more bullets as Chris dug himself deeper into the hole. A welcomed respite eventually arrived in the shape of Lowtie who brought the news that the police had dropped their investigation into the illegal posting of the notice of a proposed ‘half way house’ next door to his own property. He was, however, concerned about an apparent leaking pipe in his newly converted granny flat. “When Lewis returns from his Dubai trip I’ll have to get him on the case; it’s bloody ridiculous, paying out all of that money yet still have water seeping in,” blustered John. 

Gathering lists

Tues.05.12.06. Today, some progress has actually been achieved. I have phoned the initial parts list to John at Paddocks. This includes, the new wiring loom, brakes drum shoes, a core plug set, a stop tail switch a return spring anchor, a spring pull off and a section of stainless steel pipe for the modification of the exhaust system. I have taken a large piece of cardboard to the workshop to fashion the patterns for the interior panels of the engine bay. These, ultimately will be constructed from aluminium and will form the ideal platform for the engine bay ancillaries, these designs should, in addition, display a clean, well-organized compartment.

It is difficult to comprehend why the rebuild has stuttered to almost a complete halt.

We have had several planning sessions but in reality there has been little practical advancement. But, maybe, just around the corner, we shall regain our passion to push forward with renewed vigour. I hope so.          

Weds.06.12.06. New life has been breathed into the project hopefully we can build upon these recent efforts. Chris has cleaned and polished all the components that form the rocker mechanism, later spending the rest of the day constructing the unit. It now sits snugly on the new stage 2 head. The addition of the aluminium rocker cover completes the picture. The value of such cleanliness is not only beneficial for the smooth operation of the top end but the spotless metallic assembly is again another example of craftsmanship but more appreciably, a symbol of pride. Meanwhile, I busied myself by cutting the patterns for the scuttle and engine bay. These were made from stiff cardboard fastened together with masking tape. To ensure the proposed design is flawlessly correct I intend to develop the blueprints into MDF, which then can be filed and sanded to establish a flawlessly accurate fit. 

At the end of the day the decals that represent the clocks and dials were positioned on the mock dashboard. The ultimate arrangement of these instruments, via trial and error, has gradually become more established, a final design cannot be too far away. The combination of a gloriously rich walnut dash bordered by ‘jade green’ leather is proving to be the preferred choice.

Mercifully, the mission is back on track, we are once more blue sky thinking, pushing the envelope out of the box, flying with eagles rather than working with turkeys, not brainstorming but, thought cascading with a shower fountain of ideas; we have taken a helicopter view to conclusively square the circle to pull the pebble out of the dam. I may open another tin of chunks tonight? 

Dick the entrepreneur

Mon.04.12.06. Danny had returned my call around lunchtime to request the front wings for priming. Early in the afternoon Chris and I delivered one front wing and one half of the bonnet. The rear wings and nosecone need one final flat and can be stored at Nigel’s paint shop until the work has been completed. I have packed and dispatched the one and a quarter SU carbs to Andrew Turner who will return the reconditioned units next week. He actually does sound as if he knows what he is doing, but so have many others. The total cost, including exchange will be £195.00. Later in the day another list for Paddocks was formulated and yet another final ‘work schedule’ drawn up.

The afternoon took us, along with Dick, to Greenacres. Chris had underwritten a CRV which Dick would drive back to Alan’s for re-sale. It didn’t take long for Dick to inform us of his latest acquisitions from t’internet. “I’ve got the best Christmas gifts going” he boasted proudly, “clockwork wanking monkeys; you just wind them up and off they go!”                                                                                                                      “You’ve got what?” replied Chris, sounding slightly surprised and sceptical, but nevertheless was prepared to place an order. “Well, how many do you think I should buy for my 83 year old mother, and the sister I don’t speak to?” “No, you daft bugger, they’re ideal for ‘workies’ parties at Christmas. Just imagine giving everyone of your mates a small present at the ‘do’. Then, after four pints they would all open the package to discover the furry little beast; they’d love it, they’d piss themselves. Try to picture 30 blokes winding them up and letting them go. It would be a great laugh. Look, they ‘come’, Dick chuckled realising that he had mistakenly cracked a bad joke, no; they come in a box of 10 for 2 quid, but you can have 3 boxes for a fiver”.                                                                                    

 “Bloody hell Dick, what kind of mates do you think I have? I’d be alright dishing them out in the Oak!” returned Chris, still unconvinced. Attempting to join the tête-à-tête I tentatively offered “What about cockney Mick, he puts up suspended ceilings and goes to Thailand for his holidays. He’d be good for some?”                                                                                                                        “Are you going friggin’ mad as well, you’re as bad as Dick!” Chris, at this point, had thought that he had put an end to the dialogue but Dick responded with his alternative Yuletide offering; a ‘radio with a clock’, that only has a two day lifespan. These came in at 3 quid each or 2 quid if a bulk order was placed: in other words any more than one.                                                                                                                                   “Don’t you mean a clock radio?” ventured Chris. “No, you can’t exactly refer to them by that name because they don’t precisely work in conjunction with each other. If better batteries were installed they might just function as they ought to, but at the moment the radio works or the clock works, but never at the same time” explained clever Dick. “Stop, stop, stop, I can’t stand any more of this, it’s getting friggin’ worse. Any way how much did you pay for them?” Chris asked, still curiously intrigued by Dick’s business acumen.                                                                                                               “I bought 150 for £1.70p each, they were a steal”. Chris then, politely informed Dick that to he would need to sell at least 120 before he was in profit. Selling the full lot he would net a phenomenal £40.00 for an outlay of £255.00.  “Yeah, it’s great, in’ it” smiled Dick rubbing his hands together.

“Beam me up Scotty”.  

Doctor Dave holds court

Doctor Dave has been at his most annoying during the entire weekend. He seems to have squatted at the Oak since Thursday night only leaving to frequent other licensed premises relentlessly preserving his already high water table. He returns to the Oak in the early evening over served, singing badly brandishing his chewed copy of the Guardian but resolutely determined to myther. 

Depending upon which buttons are pressed he is soundly prepared to kick off. Firstly, the usual targets suffer the pre-emptive strike: Bush, Blair, Police and Social injustice. Having, for most of his working life having been in direct contact with the global nonsense that exists, ‘funding the world food deficit’, ‘the control, treatment and spread of aids in Africa’ and ‘the political shuffling, infantile points scoring, unremitting corruption within the Western providers’ he has a knowledgeable base where he can, effortlessly, destroy any foolish, feeble, ignorant opposition. It is much easier to capitulate, comply, agree thus supporting his argument completely rather than offering any form of resistance. The hope is that he will ‘dry’ and eventually ‘shut the fuck up’, but this tactic very often falls on deaf ears. He is adept at swiftly changing the rules of debate, without difficulty, effortlessly switching to control the direction of the dialogue to his advantage. Attempting to sound the tiniest bit interested I endeavoured to ask ‘what he felt about the phoney, clearly transparent interest of celebrities, especially ‘rock stars’, who become involved with the catastrophic aftermath of natural or manmade disaster, worthy causes such as ‘world famine’, ‘preventable disease’, ‘murderous dictators’, ‘tornadoes, floods, earthquakes and bush fires’. “Well”, he began, “as soon as Bob Geldof became feckin’ obsessed by those frightful images emerging from Ethiopia he nurtured a craving, along with that Scottish weasel, Midge fuckin’ Ure, to put things right, enlighten the worlds lack of perception, prick the conscience but also, to stick his face into Thatchers’: Ethiopia was doomed. Along with all of the other crusty, ageing pop stars he triumphantly managed to bankrupt the country after two years. All of the food that tumbled and gushed into the country effectively destroyed the culture that had existed before, either through neglect but mainly because their own indigenous meagre efforts at cultivation became obsolete. The farmers quickly forgot how to extract any substance from the land due to these ‘do good, vacuous, self promoting tossers’ who assumed that by simply ‘giving’ the people ‘food’ was the only solution, instead of practical agricultural policies, building irrigation systems underpinned by  proper soil management programmes. Well done Bob, you have achieved more than Bush has ever done in his deliberate attempts to destroy a country’s’ economy. That preposterous, opinionated, jumped up fuckin’ Bono repeated the same mistake twenty years later. That arrogant, tantric shagger Sting has probably condemned more rain forest than he has actually saved and Billy fuckin’ Connelly should restrict his energies to telling vulgar jokes. Why don’t these people keep their fuckin’ noses out; raise the money, by all means but allow the professionals to spend what they have raised!” There were silent nods of agreement around the pub. Most people definitely were pleased to see Lord Bob of wankerville, Saint Bono of ‘up my own arse’ and that turd Sting slapped down by Dave, who in one brief tirade had won back his audience. Not content with one victory he reverted to type and continued to pester the life out of anyone who unluckily caught his eye. The pub emptied within 30 minutes.

On Sunday, I ‘assertively’ cornered Chris to offer my decision about the stage 2 head. He smiled, informed me that he had already started to tinker with it. “Don’t worry mate, we’ll get it right, the bastards won’t beat us”.              

Assertive?

Fri.01.12.06. December has started badly. The verdict as regards the head has not yet been made. I have also not had any communication from Chris today relating to this matter. The project has clearly reached a crossroads, we have, unknowingly, stumbled towards an inevitable hiatus, which I suspect is causing more grief to Chris than myself. 

The incessant struggle against inferior manufactured components, inconsistent workmanship, empty promises, false claims time and again sustained by conflicting information has twisted his view as to the feasibility of completing the vehicle to his demanding standards. To this end I feel a strong obligation to take control of all decisions regarding the acceptable parameters of worth. The stage 2 head will stay for this very reason. None of the team is totally at ease with substandard engineering but the need to ‘move on’ is bigger than the issue that the head has caused. I, for that reason, intend in the future to become more assertive, decisive unswervingly adamant if such a situation arises again. Or, perchance, I won’t be, maybe I don’t want to, it might be better perhaps if Chris takes control and I just curl up in a corner?

Shake up

Thurs.30.11.06. There has been co-ordinated dawn raids across England by the police in a joint operation to crack down upon racist bigots and homophobes. The purpose was to hunt out and arrest people who have the habit of making easy fun, cruelly pointing the finger, maliciously deriding persons of an alternative sexual persuasion in either public, social or work places. There have been ten police forces involved, over 200 policemen, 50 community workers and a mixed group of MPs. I telephoned Chris this morning but there was no reply.

Later in the afternoon I visited Danny’s workplace to retrieve the front wings and nosecone. His lack of communication had been a cause for concern over the past few weeks but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that he had primed the panels and that they were ready for their final flatting down. Nigel Penk, the owner of the paint shop, employs Danny on a casual basis. He pulls him in whenever the workload becomes excessive. Nigel informed me that Danny had been quite busy with his modelling work in Manchester, London and Portugal (I bet he’s gone through some ‘vaz’) but he would pass on my message and ‘get in touch’. Sure enough Danny contacted me in the evening to reaffirm his enthusiasm for the project requesting that the front wings are brought down to the workshop on Monday to be exchanged for the painted panels.  

I had recently received the latest promotional merchandise from Rimmers, amongst which was a £60.00 deal on a brand new American spec1500 Spitfire head. I foolishly mentioned this to Chris who, like me, began to consider building an alternative to the XRN substandard offering. I did confess that ‘Toby’ of Rimmers actually recommended that this was not a suitable approach as the American version would need extensive as well as expensive modifications to create a stage 2 head. This advice came after he had flagged up our account, perhaps his opinion had been clouded by our decision, back in September, to throw back all of the shite that they had previously supplied. This may still be an avenue that we shall pursue; but Rimmer Brothers are in the fuck off bin for very good reasons; I feel there is little point dragging them out. Returning the head to XRN could lead us into another minefield but, we have been here before, got the “T” shirt and have, unfortunately, seen the movie. 

The month, like many others has been a roller coaster. We have, obviously, missed the deadline of the Beaujolais run; the occasion passing without disappointment or celebration. We shall go to France in the Burlington to retrieve superior Burgundy’s’ but when that shall be is an unknown. The manner in which the car is finished has become the principal issue, nevertheless, when completed our sights will turn towards France and those lovely tree lined sweeping roads.

Head Problems

Tues.28.11.06. The Stage 2 head was delivered from XRN today, but surprisingly, it had been not engineered up to the standard that we require, so it will have to be returned. Here we fuckin’go again.  

Weds.29.11.06. We have spoken to Phil and Chris at XRN who have defended the workmanship on the head. Apparently the inlet ports have been machined in such a rough, coarse manner to encourage the swirl and flow of fuel as it passes into the combustion chamber. Now where have I heard that word ‘swirl’ before? The widening of the ports has been precisely measured to accept the increased amount of ignitable fuel: being only polished around the outer entrance, purposely untouched at the deeper end of the funnel. This smooth to rough design allows the fuel to enter freely but then swirls in the lower recesses of the port. The outlet ports have been polished consistent with the necessary speedy ejection of the exhaust fumes. The manifold gasket needs to be appropriately filed to accommodate the larger inlet ports but will remain unchanged for the outlet. The inlet seats have also been ground to accept the larger valves. The head has been skimmed, the cam machined to sharpen and steepen the profile, both of which should dramatically improve compression. However, although some of the features that Chris and Colin have questioned have been explained and accounted for there still remains the fact that as an engineered piece of work there are some aspects that appear unnecessarily shoddy. These faults in themselves will have a very minor effect, if any at all, to the overall performance of the engine but the fact that a professional, ‘tooled up’ company appear to have cut corners is extremely disappointing. In a situation where the majority of the cost of the product is rooted in build time, labour and expertise as against the basic materials, the quality of the eventual outcome is in the hands of the craftsman. Both Chris and Colin are only ever satisfied with perfection: unfortunately this head has fallen well short of their personal demanding standards. I too, am beginning to realise that only the ‘best’ will suffice. I share equally their despondency with the total absence of ‘worth’ overtly demonstrated by a lack of pride of craftsmanship: we expected excellence but have been offered mediocrity. Our suspicions were still not totally satisfied having later spoken with Max for a second opinion. He confirmed, like XRN, that the head is as good as it needs to be and that we were being over fussy.

Is there no one left in this world of Triumph who demands perfection as a basic right?    

          

Social conscience

Weds.15.11.06. I have left for France today hoping that there is sufficient in place to keep Chris happily occupied whilst I am away. I shall return on the 24^th.

Mon.27.11.06. Chris has again been tidying loose ends but also he has found the odd problem with the compatibility of components. The new clutch does not match the new flywheel bought earlier from Max and the copper fuel line has been almost impossible to route around the block. The main concern however has been the lack of contact from Danny who has disappeared from the planet taking my wings with him. The stage 2 head has also not been dispatched, but I have spoken to Phil this morning who promises an immediate and overnight delivery: the total cost being £506.43.

In reflection, although these delays are agonisingly frustrating, just as any ‘slow’ build, the advantages of patience,  applied order, lone contemplation far out way our usual misguided, over enthusiastic practises. 

The ten-day gap has inevitably created the odd ‘Oak’ prank. The weekend in the Lakes proved to be the usual endless drinking, eating and bad singing sessions that it has always been but whilst on their jaunts a plot had been hatched by the abandoned fringe group, compiled of disgruntled, bored outcasts, who had not made Philip’s final cut.

Andy Lewis has continued to raise his own profile by concocting another jape aimed directly at excitable Lowtie. He has replicated perfectly a local authority building announcement which he professionally fastened to the front door of the derelict house next to ‘Planet Lowton’. It read “It is proposed that on this site, 56, Wigan Lane, a refuge will be constructed to rehabilitate habitual career criminals, reformed drug users, vagrants and the homeless, spent, haggard prostitutes, plus any other person wearing a shell suit and a baseball cap. Work will begin on 01.12.06. I thank you for your gracious attention, signed Percy Eccleston, Town Clerk, WMBC ”.

Returning from Keswick this notice was quickly pointed out to John who reacted typically. “The bastards will not get away with this! They’ve got some front. It was only last week I phoned the police to tell them about that fucker who is dealing drugs directly opposite my house. It’s the third time I’ve phoned them yet they still haven’t returned my call or made any sort of visit. If the council want to bring in more perverts, prossies, pimps, nonces and nancies they will have me to deal with!” To make matters worse the police have now carefully removed the offending, ‘fake’ manuscript plotting their investigation to capture the ‘international forger’ of official council documents.  

This swift decisive action has further inflamed John. “It beggars belief that the police can pull out all of the stops for a straightforward ‘joke’ yet where there is genuine scum on the streets they totally ignore it. They pitched up mob handed claiming that they can retrieve finger prints or DNA from the fuckin’ laminated paper then they will proceed to study the CCTV from the hospital car park to recognise the perpetrators of this horrendous crime. They say that three offences have been committed to the case: falsely and fraudulently posting an illegal document, damaging private property and making socially unacceptable, public comments. The world has gone fuckin’ mad. The daft, feckless wankers are prepared to waste police time on a ‘pub wheeze’ than go out and catch some proper low, grubby, degenerate pond life: I fuckin’ give up!”

By this time John was exploding with incontrollable rage noticeably egged on by tolerant, PC Chris as well as pertinent and relevant Doc he continued his bemused understanding of the whole incident quoting seemingly irrational priorities compounded by rudderless direction. Meanwhile, Andy Lewis just smiled.  

DVLA

Tues.14.11.06. I have received some correspondence from Jean Beaver of the local DVLA regarding the alterations to the Burlington. A brief chat revealed that it was merely a standard inquiry into the progress of the build. Because of the delays to the completion of the vehicle it was decided that the original V5 registration document should be returned until I am in a position to have the car inspected. I then should speak directly with Jean to arrange a mutually convenient meeting. All of this appears to be too easy but at least I shall be in possession of my registration document, which will allow me to check the details of engine and chassis number, importantly this will also offer some breathing space to ensure the worthiness of the car.

Again it has been a day of tying loose ends.

I have taken the flywheel, pushrods, odd nuts and bolts to Standish so that Chris can finish the rear suspension and fit the clutch. I have, also, spoken to Andrew Turner of SU carbs who has confirmed a price for my obsolete one and a quarters in exchange for a refurbished pair of 1500 one and a halves. The price for the build is £205 inc VAT which is competitive but, significantly, after a lengthy conversation it was obvious that he has vast experience in the business being able to match perfectly the correct needles and jets to the other specifications of 2 stage head, race cam and 4 branch exhaust manifold exhaust. It is always refreshing to hear precise, exact knowledge. This professional attitude has been so difficult to obtain throughout the journey. There are certainly less people outside the fuck off bin than inside. 

At the pace of the milk train the project is back on track. Slowly but surely, the tortoise and the hare, life is a marathon not a 100mts sprint, the mighty river is born out of a tiny stream, molehills grow into mountains, one swallow doth not a summer make, small mice become big rats, Ruby, don’t take your love to town, I improve my English must.