Rubber trim

                          Burlington Diary October 2008

Weds.01.10.08. With good intentions I set off for Appley Bridge with the rusting Mk3 Spitfire front springs, the exact provenance of which I have not the faintest idea, but somewhere along the way we have acquired this particular pair. To return to the Thunderdome where almost two years ago we had the chassis sandblasted by two amiable alien creatures: a father and son operation that really was not of this century or planet. But, to my astonishment the developers have taken over: instead of the lunar landscape, giants’ sandpit, rusting machinery inhabited by leather clad, goggle eyed extra terrestrials there was an up market low density housing complex. I did ask a local fellow where the ‘beings’ had moved to but he did not seem to know. Perhaps they have returned to their home planet to holiday with Michael from Mars, enjoying roll ups with cups of tea. But not to be defeated I searched out a proper Wigan ‘blaster’ near Miry lane, who uncannily has a striking resemblance to Dave and Billy of Thunderdome fame. They must all inhale equal amounts of the same noxious materials possessing the same mannerisms, tics, squints, three fingers, two teeth, heavily contoured, weathered skin. The springs will be ready tomorrow at a cost of £10.00, tantamount to daylight robbery but with a little painting plus fettling they should look like brand new.

I have also begun to trim the rubber cockpit surround with the leather having rescued the material from the original prototype. I came up with the ingenious idea of threading a brush steel inside the split of the rubber which enabling the fabric to be stretched evenly along the outer edge. Removing the poles it was then a matter of applying glue to the inside edge folding in the outer strips then returning the poles to wedge the leather firmly in position. Once the glue has set the poles can be removed, repeating the process with the other portion of trim.

The people at Brabbin and Rudd must be well pissed off by now as every time I visit I request the tiniest of orders, yet dreadfully complicated. I usually spend 20 minutes in the store exchanging no more than two quid for an assortment of nuts, washers and bolts. Today was no exception; 4x M80x60 SS bolts to secure the pancakes to the carburettor manifold, 2xM6 decorative SS domed nut and matching washers to form the decorative fastening of the dash board. The total was £2.60; I had confused my faithful, long suffering store man, Colin Sturgeon so much he had forgotten to include the threaded bar the most expensive item on the list.