Kevin takes both barrels

Thurs.25.05.06. Today we were faced with undoing the mess that had been left by Colin. We will never be sure that this butchery had been an act of pure malice, mischief, stubbornness or ineptitude. When the hinged folding brackets were fixed to the screen the overall size of the total unit was 100mm too wide. But, calculating that if a 50mm spacer was attached to both of the hinge mechanisms this vital extra 100m could be gained. On completion of the dry build this proved to be the case, the screen fitted perfectly, problem solved. It was then simple matter to re-build with fibreglass the sections of the scuttle that Colin had hacked away, to make possible the repair. The scuttle was now ‘made up’.

Effectively the screen should now rest in the correct position enhancing and not detracting from the overall appearance of the car. 

This day had also been interrupted by several visits to Slicks ferrying cars from one garage to another. At Slicks there is an amicable, but tense, arrangement between Kevin’s ex wife Pat, who runs the administrative service side of the garage, and Kath, his present partner, who is the chief mechanic on the shop floor. One is quite feminine the other, butch and aggressive. Waiting for Kevin, who at the time was completing an MOT for a customer, I noticed that a ‘Clio’, which had been ticking over for some time began smoking badly filling the yard with dark blue diesel fumes. I brought this to the attention of Kath who immediately switched the engine off; she then strode purposefully in the direction of Kevin expressing her annoyance at this over sight. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking tosser!” expressed Kath in plain but succinct English. Kevin glanced at the nearby client casually shrugging his shoulders in a kind of ‘same old, same old’ fashion. Soon after, with Kevin assisting as an additional driver, we left for the Renault dealership in nearby Chorley where I was leaving a car to be repaired whilst, at the same time Kevin was supposed to be collecting a part for the smoking Clio. Making our way back to the car we almost mowed down by Pat who enquired if Kevin had picked up the parts. “I couldn’t do it, I haven’t brought any money with me; anyway, I thought you had arranged for the bits to be delivered” replied Kevin feebly but honestly. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking wanker!” responded frustrated Pat. It seems that both women in Slick’s life are swearing from the same hymn sheet.

Colin shits in his nest

Nevertheless, after this unpleasant experience we returned to Westmead much later than expected to discover yet another unhappy sight. Colin had closed the workshop for the day but had left behind him a ‘dog’s breakfast’ that he had clumsily concocted during the afternoon. Laid before us was his bungling attempt at fitting the new screen. Mon fucking dieu, he had hacked at the scuttle top to bodge in the screen. Carving two symmetrical troughs on either side he proposed to accommodate the curved aluminium screen brackets The sunken pair were hideously covered in tete, bound by parcel tape, precariously held in place by string, screw drivers, wooden blocks and sticky backed plastic. 

Wide eyed we both gazed in disbelief at the mess. This was not the work of Colin, the craftsman, but of some fourteen-year-old spotty youth on a YTS scheme. “Why has he done that?” repeated the baffled, but annoyed Chris. “It will be impossible to maintain the contour of the bonnet unless he intends to remove a sizeable amount of the scuttle; just look at it, it’s a piece of shite, what has possessed him to do that?” “I told him not to do it that way, but that’s typical Colin he will always insist ‘his way is the only way’, he can be a stubborn bugger. I still can’t understand why he has chosen this method?” Chris was becoming dangerously annoyed and simultaneously aggravated. Colin’s motives now became the issue.

It was clear that he had performed this operation knowing that we both otherwise engaged, unable therefore to sanction this course of action.

The debate about this predicament continued down at the Oak. Chris having had a phone conversation with Colin on the route felt that his attitude was glib; Colin advocated that it was impossible to fit parts that were not designed for the car implying also that if we persisted in buying the ‘wrong bits’ there would be nothing he could do ‘except make a bollocks of it’. This was precisely the sort of argument that never fails to raise Chris’s dander, it was both irritating and tactless. Chris ruminated constantly over Colin’s throw-away lines. He resolved that Colin had purposely sabotaged the project to teach us a lesson, to state his indispensability or just to be simply bloody-minded. What ever his reason d’etre he was in the Ka ka. He had well and truly shit in his own nest.

Chris left for home to re-examine what we had already decided was Colin’s statement. Phoning at 9.30pm he was still wound up. “It was worse than I had first thought, listen, listen, the mans a lunatic, he’s not right in the head, he never does what you ask him to do, he’s good, but I’m not having him dictating to me” steamed Chris.

This has not been a good day, especially if you suffer from high blood pressure.        

      

Distraction proves disastrous

 Search Amazon.com for Triumph GT6

Weds.24.05.06. I arrived at Westmead around 2.00pm.to carry on the debate with Chris and Colin concerning the acquisition of a new engine. The GT6 engine and overdrive box seems the preferred option, provided of course that it is physically short enough to fit into the engine compartment. Was the engine four or six cylinders? 1600cc or 2000cc? Would the prop, differential and half shafts take the strain? Is the overdrive located at the rear, the bottom or the top of the box? These could be questions for Andy Monday of Rimmer Brothers to answer. At £400 it is a bargain, especially if the carbs, dizzy, water pump, starter motor, dynamo and other ancillaries are included. Earlier in the morning Chris and Colin had discussed the problem of fitting the narrower Morgan screen. Unfortunately, they were both supporting different solutions.

Leaving Colin at Westmead to ‘perfect’ his solution both Chris and I departed later that morning to collect two vehicles, along with Dick of Deliverance fame and Alan (Suttons autotraders)  from at Preston and Blackburn. We also intended to present Colin’s proposed plans for the engine compartment to ‘Simmals’ the local aluminium suppliers, who will cut and bend the 4 panels that were required. Alan, I am led to believe, is a trained race track driver but it didn’t stop me bricking myself as he weaved in and out, at pointlessly fast speeds, in city traffic in the ‘top heavy’ Discovery. Meanwhile, totally oblivious, Dick was puffing on his pipe alternatively repeating fables from his dubious successes on ‘e’bay’ as well as quoting fictitious statistics about the famed GT6 engine. This was after an opening declaration by Chris, “Now Dick, before you start, I don’t want any bullshit, but was the GT6 engine a four cylinder 1600 or a six cylinder two litre block?” Dick, unfazed, continued to ramble on about the 4 pot or 6 pot, the cross flow Ford compared with the Zetec, claiming the Nissan 2 litre to be the real deal and lastly he boldly stated, the TR3 and not the TR4, was a big old pig. He finally summed up this diarrhoea by committing himself to the 1275 BMC Midget engine. “What did I tell you Dick, I wanted concise facts not utter crap, why do I bother, I should know better?” mumbled Chris, truly regretting the initial request. However, all of this tripe was deflecting the terror that we were all suffering at the hands of Alan’s manic driving. Chris, eventually, reminded Alan that it was imperative that he controlled his blood pressure. “Sorry pal” repented Alan, “I thought that you enjoyed driving quickly?” “I did, but that was when I was able to see clearly out of both eyes, before I had my stroke and, which is most important, I was actually driving the vehicle! ” explained purple faced Chris.  

Engine worries

Tues.23.05.06. As I was speaking to Richard this morning the eventful day that took Chris and I over the Pennines in March, to acquire the new chassis, came flooding back like an Indonesian mudslide. Luckily, we did persist buying our present chassis, which in fact has turned out to be an integral component of the project. At the time, the sight of Richard in his well worn, oil stained pin stripe suit, his scrap collection of dead motors, creaking suspension units, rusting springs, tired engines, sagging seats, seized dynamos, oxidised carburettors and manifolds, along with his mysterious, inbred, Goth sister combined with his promises of ‘mint parts’ had previously filled us with genuine doubt and disappointment. Our expectations of an orderly, tidy parts department could not have been further from the truth, yet in hindsight there were bargains to be had, but the journey, the location of the yard and the slightly crazed Richard had all taken their toll. The route back to Lancashire had warmly beckoned; the hope that the chassis was as original as Richard claimed was the only redeemable thought that had kept us going.

Richard sounded like his usual cheerful and confident self. He has a totally re-built, brand new GT6 engine and overdrive box for £400, an assortment of 1300 and 1500 Spitfire engines from £200 to £350 with or without ancillary components. Wouldn’t I just love to believe him, drop in the straight six and woosh off down the road. He still might be worth a visit for the odd bits that are either overpriced or no better from Rimmers or the Chorley sheepdips. 

Today has been another frustrating attempt regarding the advancement of the project, even with consummate endeavour little or no progress has been achieved. In reality, beginning to clean major items such as the differential and suspension units is another phase in the development of the project. It indicates that the body panels, tub and chassis are almost completed ready to be signed off; they can be sent off to be painted then powder coated. Whilst away, all the major units can be re-built, made ready waiting to be attached to the vehicle on its’ return. On a visit to Slicks, later in the day, I recovered the engine block, which we believe will not match up to the head for reasons that shall be explained. After several years of running the car I decided that I needed more BHP so I changed the original head with a Triumph 1300 TC replacement. From that moment I suffered overheating problems. Several water pumps and cylinder head gaskets later the fault remained. Once the car exceeded 30 MPH the temperature gauge would rise steeply. It really pissed me off as I could not use the car as intended, ‘a fun sports car’. This reinforces the message ‘if it’s not broke don’t fix it. By trying to ‘fix it’ I had ‘buggered it’.

Chris and Colin, at first, suspected that without a header tank there would never be enough water in the system, promoting intermittent over heating. Recently, however, Colin noticed that the water ports on the head did not match the gasket. One, if not more, had been blanked off and restricted the flow of water around the block. On closer investigation at Westmead this proved to be the case, this basic fault appears to have been the main reason for the niggling problem. Neither the block nor the head is of any use to us. Richard, suddenly, becomes a definite contender as a possible source for a new engine; he is another who may crawl out of the fuck off bin.     

Another visit to Life's

Mon.22.05.06. I have been dispatched to Life’s Motors in Southport to buy a damaged Morgan screen and a pair of tilting screen supports. John, again, was extremely helpful offering to search out any other used or slightly damaged Morgan items that, potentially, could be of use to us. The screen was £50.00 (over £500 new) and the supports £60.00 (£200.00 per pair new).

Arriving back at Westmead Chris and Colin had finished the engine panels and were in the process of studying the scuttle top and how best to attach the screen brackets. Although the glass was broken in the screen it is still handsome piece of kit. The composition is chrome on brass but having a gently curving base with a much straighter top profile. The solid stainless steel brackets, which allow the screen to tilt and fold flat, are again of terrific quality, therefore adding another dimension to the vehicle. It wasn’t too long before a problem had emerged; the Morgan screen being slightly smaller, taller and incorporating an integrated concave base. These differences from the Burlington screen can be overcome by altering the scuttle top.

This will be more work for Colin but it is absolutely necessary if the screen is to ‘work’ with the vehicle. When I returned from an afternoon of delivering cars the modification was underway the screen having been already tested on the scuttle top. Apparently, the screen will be another super addition to the flowing lines of the car, mitigating the effort as well as the meagre cost.

We finished the day attempting to formulate a ‘stock-plan’ regarding the mechanical components of the car. Some can be salvaged but many are destined for the scrap heap. The recovered items must be cleaned and polished as if new and ‘out of the box’ fresh. The missing items must be sourced then subsequently purchased. Rimmer Brothers, at the moment are odds on favourite to land the hefty contract; having not heard a peep from the sheepdips of Whittle-le-Woods who, by now, are hurtling head long for the fuck off bin. I also need to contact Richard, of pin striped suit fame, in Sheffield, for a new engine and box.  

The windscreen concept begins

Search Amazon.com for Solving design problems

Fri.19.05.06. Colin and Chris have replaced the old engine side panels with new marine ply creating a preferential aero-dynamic design. The audacious approach to the windscreen has been adopted since, after much discussion we have decided to run with the idea of a dual system incorporating the collapsible full windscreen together with the aero screens. This then allows each system to operate independently of the other. The full screen when in the upright position will ensure the hood and wind deflectors can be used for inclement weather, whilst the aero screens can be fitted, when the folding main screen has been removed, for the warmer summer days.

Colin, always anticipating difficulties, has suggested a superior method of attaching the screen brackets to the scuttle sides: once fitted he intends filling their back edge to enhance the line of the scuttle. This should also emphasise that they are not just merely ‘bolt-ons’.

Andrew Monday, of Rimmer Brothers, had telephoned mid afternoon to verify that we had in fact received his communication. His earlier ‘fax’ was something that we chose to ignore, not just because of the varied prices of many of the components, but since other main suppliers had let us down badly in the past, we naturally assumed that Rimmers, who had not replied to our first request, would not be any different. When Chris did take the call he was extremely surprised to find that ‘Andy’ was incredibly knowledgeable about the world of Triumph, kit cars, suspension modifications, weighting calculations, braking systems, chassis tolerances, in fact, every technical problem that no else had been able to answer. Chris was even more impressed when prices began to tumble once he established himself as being ‘trade’. He was further encouraged because they both appeared to be talking the same ‘oily rag’ language. 

Having at last established this positive connection with a principle supplier, Andy of Rimmer Brothers, they have now been liberated from the fuck off bin presently standing firmly on the ‘pedestal of rock’ alongside John of Life’s motors.                                                                                                                             

I had missed all this excitement having spent most of the day delivering cars to various back street garages around the northwest. Returning to base late in the day I could only sense to the enthusiasm that filled the garage. I felt envious not having experienced, at first hand, the progress and sheer delights of the day. In comparison, mine had been a day of Shite.

The ‘awkward squad’ had returned from Porto. Knocker with peeling head, Jimmy the Axe with runny bot, Billy Green fatter, the Doc bemoaning not being able to ‘cook’ and Lewis with a suitcase full of contraband. This trip must have been comparatively successful as there were no arrests, missed flights, broken limbs or fallouts. Bummer. The Oak was packed with Friday night revellers just at the beginning of their liquid weekend. Vince and Linda, who we had not seen for quite sometime, were just leaving but we did manage a brief chat about holiday experiences, DIY problems and local rugby issues. Vince is the most generous person but he, unfortunately, has the reputation for repeating the same anecdotes over and over again. “Stop me if I have told you this one” would be his opening gambit to a story that inevitably had been recounted endless times, nevertheless, nothing was going to stop the further repetition of this weary tale, the Range Rover on Twickenham car park, the ten gin and tonics, not seeing the game, the great food in the restaurant, the early night, because now I have learned my lesson, knowing when to stop. “No you don’t because you’ve just told me the same fucking story again!” I thought to myself. He, together with Linda, are genuine toffs but it is always paramount to have an escape route in place to avoid being cornered and suffering the slow, relentless torture of being Vinced to death.

The group was swelling when Danny and Katie, Adrian, the brother of Danny, who incidentally is married to Vicky, Katie’s saltette sister strolled in. Danny was wearing his dad’s chequered sports coat or one that he had bought at a charity shop: there is absolutely nothing wrong with purchases at Charity shops, I have made in the past many astute acquisitions, particularly in Clitheroe: posh handouts from wealthy landed gentry. Consequently, he had to run the gauntlet of abuse from Lowtie, Andrew Higham and, of course, Chris. “Let me try it on, I have not seen one of those for years” Chris tactfully requested. “Just fits” declared the triumphant poseur, who by now was strutting up and down the bar like a gloating peacock eying up his harem. “Perhaps a few visits to the gym wouldn’t go a miss” suggested Danny observing the garment loosely hanging off the shoulders. Experimenting with various buttoning methods Chris continued, Jagger like, to parade around the room. Jason King, Norman Wisdom, Norman Vaughan and Frankie Vaughan were all referred to by the extremely well entertained on lookers. The coat was eventually returned to its’ embarrassed owner, Danny, or his dad, who took the jibes squarely on the chin.       

Whilst these antics were the focus of everyone’s attention another old friend had sloped into the bar. Joe Berry, who from a very early age had possessed the face of an old man. Rubbery, pleated, extensively folded, Joe had been lumbered with this boatrace for the last forty years. His present visage now has obvious advantages, time having stood still for Joe. At sixty he looks exactly the same as he did as a teenager. Unfortunately, he suffers from a weak bladder, on numerous occasions he would emerge from the ‘stones’ with a tell tale damp patch indicating that he had not quite made it. Many years ago he arrived at a Christmas Eve party at David’s with a huge piss stain down the front of his ‘kecks’ asking if he could borrow a pair of the host’s trousers. David duly obliged. Joe stood proudly at the top of the stairs clad in a pair fresh-pressed white chinos. Disaster struck after the first step, the flood gates opened, “whoops” mumbled Joe, “I’d best get my coat”. But to be fair that was a long time ago perhaps presently he has greater control over his bodily functions. Most of the crowd in the Oak had moved on when Joe began to show off the jack plug socket in his head. “It’s a recent operation, because I suffer from tinnitus I am allowed this £2000 electronic hearing device. I just plug in this amplifier and everything becomes stereo. I was listening to Pink Floyd the other night and I swear I had an out of body experience, I was tripping”. “No you weren’t, Joe, you were dripping” I commented, after noticing the damp stain on Joe’s Levis. The three of us left the pub, later than intended, only after all of the old memories had been re-lived. We staggered up the hill to Scarisbrick Street and home.

The beginnings of a new screen or a nightmare

Thurs.18.05.06. I arrived at Westmead to find Chris frustrated. The phone had never stopped all morning, the house had been noisy with sickly grandchildren, the level of dust in the house was beginning to annoy Marion, Chris’s wife, but notably there were nevertheless too many small, insignificant yet crucial jobs that must be completed today. Consequently his concentration span was below zero. We would begin one task, move to another, and another then another, never able to complete any. I occupied much of my time by tidying the garage, arranging the boxes of salvaged parts from the old chassis. Simple jobs, but essential. The job list that Chris had formulated had, in the main, been abandoned at the expense of a disruptive morning, followed by a leisurely lunch; both factors limiting the progress of the Burlington. 

The windscreen, folding or not, aero screens, yes or no, both or one had been debated thoroughly. The windscreen supports that we had bought the day before had given us too many options but had re-opened the choice of a fixed or removable screen. The real problem, however, was that the Burlington screen measured identically to that of the Morgan. I, personally, thought that this would never be possible, but it was. We could now use a genuine Morgan Screen if we wished. The issue of the budget for the car again came into play. A new screen at £400.00, wind deflectors at £100.00, adjustable screen supports at £100.00 were all compared to the alternative £60.00 used aero screens. We agreed to wait for Colin’s input tomorrow delaying the final decision. This would be the prudent option: so we moved on to the more mundane labour of rubbing down the wings then cleaning out the tub. The day had finished on a high note; the morning slough of despond had evaporated into ambitious hope. We were back on track