Vigilante

Fri.17.08.07. The day did not begin too well with Kevin of Fastline Motors, Preston, phoning to tell me that my Motorcycle parts bound for France had arrived, but at a cost. Sure enough he was correct. I stared down at the counter where a cardboard head gasket a rubber rocker box cover joint plus 16 of the tiniest valve stem seals emerged through the fog of the plastic wrapping. I picked the package up to find that it also was particularly light having little substance. The total bill was £167.42 an obscene inexplicable figure for basic components fashioned from the simplest of materials. Honda are taking the piss. The clear comparison here is the relatively inexpensive Triumph parts: I recall a complete engine gasket set being £18.00, piston rings, main bearings, valve seals all a matter of pennies. The range of quality, original stainless steel products from Morgan a mere pittance, the seasoned timber for the dashboard (2 pieces) from Alain Luzan for £13.00, Borg and Beck clutch assembly £59.00, an electronic distributor from H+H Ignition Solutions £116.00. The list is endless, so how Honda can arrive at this absurd figure is beyond belief.
My day continued to nose dive when I was summoned to accompany Dick to return to Preston, the scene of the recent mugging, to pick up a basket case C180 Merc that functions only in 1st. gear. I had to suffer Dick’s pontifications about all manner of issues from, his facile remedy for the evident global warming threat, lunatic brainwashed terrorists, the ‘out of control’ feral gangs of youths who roam our lawless streets, the toothless, worthless tax collecting police, the limp, cosseted, cowardly, blindingly corrupt modern British politician and the perennial question of how best to market clockwork wanking monkeys as well as argumentative parrots. Dick’s remedial decree to societies ‘troubles’ was straightforward, outstandingly uncomplicated. “It’s simple; every city, town and village forms a vigilante group comprising of dutiful tax paying locals. In their own community they identify wayward hooded kids, suspicious, furtive ‘ner do wells’, anti-social Monday club spongers. They firstly, give them an initial warning but later when necessary, subject them to a right good battering before moving them on. Thus bypassing ineffectual, dumb plod that whimpers every time a ‘skanky’ gets a slap or turns a blind eye when old ladies are mugged! Secondly, instead of being forced to sit behind their desk listening to their fuckin’ i’pod, we inoculate our loyal ‘Tommy’s’, by injecting large doses of angry, psycho juice so that they can function properly, namely, to randomly dispose of anyone linked to every clandestine group who’s name begins with ‘El’, ‘Al’ or ‘BN’, in addition to ‘nuking’ every country east of France!” Thankfully Preston is only 25 miles away, so I effortlessly descended into my black vacuous space pressing the switch off button.
But, even the end of the day had a sting in the tail. The crippled Merc had to be dispatched to Slicks for some serious mechanical surgery where Dick and Kath immediately began exchanging expletives in a ‘fuckfest’ that would have been envied in Sam’s bar. I left them staring gormlessly under the bonnet of an Audi A4, “it’s the fuckin’ thermostat” “it’s fuckin’ not dickhead, there’s water pissing out of the bell fuckin’ housing” “well, twat face, where’s the fuckin’ black shitty smoke fuckin’ comin’ from, bollock brain”.   I escaped for a welcomed toot around the workshop. On the roof of Porche 911 was a plastic bag containing 2 rubber rocker box cover gaskets. I unwisely asked Mike the mechanic how much they actually cost. Searching through the wodge of invoices he came up with a figure. Unfuckinbelievable, I had just paid £48 quid for one puny gasket, Mike had two for a friggin’ Porche 911 at ‘£11.45’. I rapidly rejoined Dick and Kath for the ‘fuckfest’.

Colin had reported for work at 9.am sharp. He had recovered from his ‘bad back’ and was ready to finish several of the tasks he had started the previous month. The robust steel bar, purchased earlier from ‘B and Q’, would, somehow, to be fashioned into the rear chassis bumper brackets. Throughout the day Colin cut, shaped, hammered, filed and ground sections from this plain simple 6mm bar into two precision made unique artefacts. Married to the Morgan brackets they integrated perfectly to support the chromed rear bumper. Welded to the silencer exhaust bobbin and chassis sub frame they have produced the ideal engineering ‘triangular configuration’ for maximum strength and rigidity. The front bumper was attached to a much more straightforward section of fabricated 2mm mild steel plate. A threaded bar welded to the chassis, incorporated within front plate, was bolted to the bumper bracket to complete the assembly. The complex angles, exact measurements, problematical constructional techniques combined with the expertise necessary to form these multifaceted exclusive pieces are yet another minor, yet infinitely important element making the car distinctive, possibly matchless. This has not been such a bad day after all.