Tag: Cornwall

A Tale Of Two MGB GT’S Part Three.

Heading Home, Initial Problems

 

For the first two instalments, please follow these links. A Tale of Two MG MGB GT’S Part One   

A Tale Of Two MGB’s Part Two.

After connecting the sat nav I headed home, ahead of me 250 in changeable conditions and it with it getting dark. For the first few miles it spat back, misfired and generally misbehaved.  

As the engine started to settle down the next issue rose it ugly head. What seemed like smoke started to rise from the dash board. As I pulled over, I prayed to Lucas, the god of old British cars not to let this one burn. 

Now, I have a confession, my sense of smell is not that good, never has been. So there  I was trying see if it was water vapour or smoke. Seeing how it condensed on the windscreen, it must be vapour.  Not ideal. Thankfully I had a few litres with me and it is fairly easy to get more if needed.  This being Britain I could just hold the bottle outside… 

Reading Rush Hour Traffic, Teething issues.

I was guided towards and through Reading. It was now 6 pm and it seemed the city is just a collection of junctions with traffic lights, mostly red. 
When I put the headlights on the fan belt squealed, an indication I should have tightened it. Apart from that and the steam coming from the dashboard the car was settling down.  It wasn’t fair of me to ask it to cope with heavy traffic so soon after getting revived, yet oil pressure was good as was the temperature. 

Finally The Motorway, First Stop, Adjusting The Fan Belt

 

Finally getting to M4, I opened her up. Nothing silly, but this was the first time I’d felt that lovely long-legged cruising ability that MGB’s are renown for. The overdrive clicked in and we sat at 65 mph. After about 15 miles we approached the next service station. An Ideal place for me to tighten the fan belt, check her over and of course stretch my legs. 

The Belt adjusted, wheel bolts checked and I visited the services.  Feeling more confident once again we found ourselves turning west. The next couple of hours was a question dealing with the endless road works and average speed check zones and heading towards my next planned stop at Exeter.  Morris Minor Road Trip Part Two.

 

 

Flat Tyre On The Motorway

 

Entering the roadworks ahead of junction 29 I could hear a flapping, trying to work out what the noise was, for once I was thankful of 50 zone. After almost clearing them, the front right tyre popped. The B was still very controllable and stable as I eased my way towards the hard shoulder. Pulling in behind I large concrete barrier and with road work cone on my right I quickly changed it. Thankful of my foresight of packing a scissor jack. 

A few miles later it started to rain and the drivers wiper  didn’t, the passengers seemed good. It could wait for us to get to Exeter to swap them over.  I pulled into the petrol station not far from where months before I bought Mog from. Finding the best wheel and tyre among the many in the back I used the free air to pump it, then topped the tank up.

 

Diversion, Beans On Toast

 

At this point I should have been heading down the A30, but instead I went down the A38 a few miles to see my friend Jude. After some much needed beans on toast and a mug of coffee. It was time for the final 100 miles or so. Deciding to head back to Exeter and the A30,  rather than the shorter route through the Glynn Valley.

 

Final 100 Miles

 

With the conditions getting worse I carefully eased my way onto the A30. Rain was interchanged with fog. The going was slow, but steady. The rain came down sheets and the fog was thick. The B plodded on, each mile west taking me closer to home. 

Parking her in an unrestricted area, I thanked her,  locked her up and headed to my bed. We made it home, it was 2 am and easier trip than the previous one with Jess.

 

 

A Tale Of Two MGB’s Part Two.

A Tale of two B’s part two…

 For part one please follow this link. A Tale of Two MG MGB GT’S Part One

Ebay…

I watched the last few seconds praying that someone would out bid me. They didn’t. Importance of Gut Instinct.
What had I done?  Ironically, I’d just bought the car I was looking for when I got Mog, my 1952 Morris Minor.  An  MGB GT… Buying a Morris Minor.
It was 250 miles away and now the question was, how would I get it back?  After quickly making contact with the seller and arranging to pick it up later in the week, I sat back and reflected. It would be an adventure at least.

Ticket To Somewhere.

I walked up to my local railway station, Penryn, loaded with a rucksack full of spare parts and tools. My socket set was gaffer taped up and reminding me just how heavy a good one is. With a few spare face masks, ahead was 250 miles and 5 hours of train travel in the modern pandemic world. At least I’d have two seats to myself.  The train would take me to Maidenhead.  The car was few miles away, but Richard , the seller had offered to pick me up. This would allow me to change the B to an historic vehicle. One that was both mot and tax exempt. A quick visit to the post office and it would be in my name and taxed. Yet I still hadn’t seen it. Tools… The Importance of a Good Socket Set

When I met the seller at the station it confirmed the impression he gave on the phone, he is a true gentleman.

 

MGB First Impressions.

 

I could tell he was nervous about how what I’d think of it. As we pulled into a very nice house the B sat there. I recorded my initial impressions.  The car was better than I hoped. The more I dug the better it got. Yes, it has a few issues, but it could be far worse. To be honest, often a glance is all I need, but closer inspection can either confirm or prove I was wrong.

 

MGB Quick Check Over

I then set to giving a car a good once over. Oil, water, brake and clutch fluid, fan belt and so forth.  the clutch was a little low,  and not much water in the cooling system.  But then the car had been barely used for 6 years, thankfully inside and not near the sea, unlike Jess’s B. A Tale of Two MG MGB GT’S Part One

When I popped the distributor  cap, to my surprise there was  electronic ignition. To those of us who know, worth mentioning and a good thing. Quickly changing the rotor arm and cap. Richard who had popped out to get some brake fluid returned. Assessing a Car

Spares and History.

It was mentioned, would I like some spare wheels? …  A total of 5 extra. Again, something which would have been great to mention. As one tyre was really not even good as a spare. Richard was amazed as I pulled out a scissor jack and collapsible axle stand and proceed to change the front right. Checking the front the front right wheel bearing as I did. It had a little play, but nothing to really worry about, but still to keep an eye on and replace sooner rather than later. Checking the passenger side, all was good.   As I was doing this, Richard brought out folder that contained the cars full history, including every mot from the start. Of everything, this was the most important and if he had mentioned it in the listing, I would be looking at an Austin Maxi instead. I placed the folder safely in the car and thanked him.

Time to Start the MGB

Pulling a spark plug, dirty but looked almost new.  Then filling up the carburettor pots with 3in1 oil it was time to fire the MGB up. With full choke, she fired, but ran really badly. Richard commented on the amount of black junk coming out of the exhaust. This, I wasn’t worried about, we have all seen those rescue car videos and know that it takes a while for a long dormant engine to settle down. https://youtu.be/bNN2ePkv5gY
 For example, Junkyard Digs. 

As the engine, popped back, misfired I checked the exhaust. It sounded like it was either sports exhaust or was leaking. Placing my hand over the end confirmed it must have a sports silencer fitted. Not an issue on car like an MGB, much more so with something less sporting.

Time to Head Home. 

After letting her settle and finishing a second stellar mug of tea I said goodbye to Richard and his family.  Then we headed into the fading light and home…

 

A Tale of Two MG MGB GT’S Part One

A tale of two MGB GT’s.

Offering To Drive 700 Miles.

As we changed the gearbox on Mog I found myself saying to Jess, “OK, we leave at 6 am tomorrow…”
After struggling with Mog’s mismatched parts  tomorrow would be interesting. Morris Minor, Filling Some Of The Gaps.

Early Start.

 

Picking  Jess up in Tug, my little MK1 Vitara  At 6am the following morning.  We set off loaded up with parts and my Cebora 130 Mig Welder. Ahead of us was a journey to the North Welsh Coast and date with a 69 MGB GT that Jess had just bought. Suzuki Vitara MOT, 4th Time.
 

Classicaraddict Does Road Kill

After finally finding our way it seemed we were half way up the foothills of a mountain. There before us was nice, but needing attention MGB GT. It needed a quarter panel welding along with the exhaust.  Welding One Small Patch? 

 

Jess cleaned up the area that needed welding and quickly cut a patch to fit as I set my welder up.  After which he slugged it in, with impressive skill.  Then he tackled the exhaust. At this point it would be hoped that we could load up and head home. 
Sadly, the clutch was seized. The next hour was spent with Jess trying to free it up, which finally he did. https://youtu.be/pOhl6oVpEes

 

Braking Issues and Breakdowns

After heading towards the local supermarket filling station Jess flagged us down. His front right brake had stuck on.  Thankfully next to it was a Halfords. I tackled the brake as he did some other work. 
After half an hour or so, we headed south and east.  The car running ok, until finally we picked up the M53.  Aiming to stop at the first services, the B decided too a little early.  Almost beside the second marker for it. 

After a couple of minutes, I told Jess it would be better to tow it down the hard shoulder to safety. We did this, changed various parts of the ignition system when we got there.  She fired, so coffee time for us. Morris Minor Road Trip Part Two.

 

Convoy Driving In The Dark.

Time was late, and we still had 300 miles to go. Driving in convoy is difficult at the best of times, in the dark on a busy motorway almost impossible . We lost contact and at that point I wished we both had Sat Nav’s or walkie talkies. Just south of Birmingham I went straight on, Jess went right.  ¾ of an hour later, finally we were back in convoy. It was now 11pm and we still had 240 miles to go with two full tanks of fuel. No, we were not wearing shades. 

 

Finally Home

 

Finally making it back for 4 am, we had made it!

I’d driven 780 miles in the Vitara. We had rescued a 69 MG MGB GT and made  it home with only a few issues. 
That was 2 months ago as I write. The MGB has been Jess’s daily since.  For a tale of two B’s this is only one.   

Morris Minor, Filling Some Of The Gaps.

 

Spares to a daily.

From buying the Morris Minor to driving to the Northeast, a jump worthy of any postmodern film or book.  When I studied creative writing 10 years ago, we were taught show don’t tell.  Yet how did Mog and I go from oh my god to being able to do a round a trip of 1200 miles?   Morris Minor Road Trip, Part One.

The simple answer would be with a lot of hard work and many breakdowns. Perhaps not the most descriptive or in depth blog post especially for one that is theoretically about cars. This post is a less detailed overview of experience Mog and I shared during those months.

After Getting The  Morris Minor Home. 

After towing Mog back behind Tug from Exeter I was allowed to borrow a driveway to work on her. 15 years before and 3 weeks after buying my Triumph Spitfire this was the same place I changed the gearbox.  I said a week then and I did it.  Again, I said a week and 6 days after I started welding Mog was solid enough to drive down.   Buying a Morris Minor.

During that time, I didn’t just weld but also had to fit a new thermostat, water pump and a few other parts. But we made it, sadly the dynamo stopped working, but thankfully Jess had a spare so we swapped them over. If at that point I thought it was over, and it would be possible to enjoy the pleasure a new car how wrong was I?  

 

Ignition Issues. Road Side Solutions. 

I spent the day doing little jobs and just as it was getting to late evening was about 6 miles away from home Mog died.  Her ignition switched fell apart. In fading light and with my phone battery low I had to find a solution. This was made far harder due to inexperience with Morris Minors. What would be easy a few months later was a struggle.  
 

An older car needs fuel and ignition. If I could get those working there was still time for us to get back safely before it got dark.  Thankfully the Morris Minor design came to my aid. The bulkhead has the fuel pump on the left, battery in the middle and coil on the right. Even with my lack of electrical knowledge it was a simple question of running a live feed to both the pump and coil.  We made it back. The following day I made the repair a little more permanent.  It held until last few miles of my return from the North.   

The Muppet Factor. 

Nigel popped down the following weekend. Quickly getting the indicators working and one or two other little issues.  We then settled into a two-week cycle, something would break. I’d fix it  then two weeks later something else would.  https://youtu.be/VaRNZn4OYh4

The next major thing was down to my own muppet factor… With Sheldon from Classic Britain I showed how good the brakes were. In the Process breaking the engine mounts. Not only was this caught on film, but also it meant Mog had to get recovered. With no local specialist parts were ordered and the wait began, the combination of parcel farce 24 and Cornwall meaning that it could take up to 5 days for anything to arrive.  The job itself not difficult. Repairing the radiator taking longer, as the steel fan had clipped the top.  

Cylinder Head

Having repaired her and after a few days, she started to run badly and misfire whilst in Falmouth. Managing to make it back safely and after few days I took the cylinder head off. There was a crack between the combustion chambers of number 3 and 4.  Once again Jess came to my aid. After upgrading his engine last year from a 948 to a 1275 he let me have his old engine for a good price.  The swap was soon complete and Mog was running once again.   

Lack Of Preparation, More Problems. 

A simple job of changing the rear leaf springs became far harder to a combination of my lack of preparation and the parts supplier mixing nuts of the same diameter but different threads together.  Again, once bitten, twice shy.   This sums up those months, simple jobs often made far harder due to previous repairs, (bodges,) my lack of Morris Minor knowledge and the main parts suppliers being a long wait away with parcel farce.  

Axle Issues. 

I mentioned during the introduction of Morris Minor Road Trip Part One the axle was changed.  The day before I was due to go to Liskeard and Bridgewater to pick up some spares.  I decided to change the driver’s side oil seal.  This was a mistake, after tapping the locking washer flat the nut holding the half shaft on was loose. Praying the threads were worn on the nut and not the axle casing, of course the casing was worn. I spoke with gent at Liskeard and he did have an axle for sale as well at a good price.  A few days later I spot welded the nut to the casing.  Something which I wish I’d thought of on the Saturday.  

The axle change wasn’t easy, likewise the week after almost cutting my finger off the gearbox went. Mog’s mismatched combination of early and later parts meaning that was far harder than it should have been. 

So? 

Reading through this there is an intentional dryness to the post. I’ve not written about my emotional experience of owning and driving a Morris Minor, an early one at that.  Now that is real story and will be saved for another post.  

Morris Minor Road Trip Part Two.


Part Two.


Mog and I where heading north to see my mother. For part one, please click on this link.Morris Minor Road Trip, Part One.

Fixing the Minor Issues.

After saying goodbye to my friend, Mog and I headed off towards the motorway about 15 miles away. On the way stopping to fill up with fuel and hopefully find a good motor factor. 
Being directed to a real gem of one. Karparts of Cainscross (01453 758282.) I wondered why the proprietor smiled so much as I pulled up. After walking into what must be one of the last proper old-fashioned car parts suppliers. The owner knowing every single part and exactly where it is.  After explaining my problem, he suggested I tried this type of leak sealant and perhaps a new radiator cap. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I’d find one unless I called into a specialist  and the nearest one of those wasn’t accepting over the counter customers.  

After quickly getting both the cap and sealant the owner came out, asking me about Mog. It turned out he has a slightly earlier 1952 Morris Minor. Talk about landing on our feet.  I changed the cap, checked Mog’s levels and headed off after thanking the gent.

Problem Solved. 

Stopping twenty miles later, the cap had fixed it. The leak sealer can stay in Mog’s boot until either I or one of my friends need it.  We headed off to drop in at the Morris Minor Owners Club at Derby to say hello.  The further from Cornwall more Mog and I caused a stir.  To see an early car on the road is unusual.  To add a paddleboard on the roof and people when driving slow down, take pics, wave and generally make us feel very welcome. The majority of other drivers showing consideration and allowing us out to overtake. Sadly, a few having no idea of braking distances would pull into the larger than normal cap.

Meeting the Morris Minor Owners Club. 

We made it to Derby and a very warm welcome from Ray, Liz  and Kate. They were more than slightly bemused to see a moggie with such a large board on the roof. With sensible covid restrictions taken into account I had a guided tour that included seeing the progress of the restoration of the last ever car.  If you have a Morris Minor, please join the club. https://www.mmoc.org.uk/

Arriving at Redcar. 


After another cup of coffee, we left, heading through the centre of Derby towards Redcar and seeing my mother for the first time in 18 months.   

Now with confidence in Mog, it was simply a question of taking our time.
We arrived at 5 pm, tired but pleased. My mother’s neighbour even let me borrow his garage to put Mog into. A kind act which was much appreciated. 

I’ll write about our time up there on another blog post.  

Return Trip.  

Yet it possible to include the return trip.  The following Sunday we set off, Redcar to Penryn in a  single day, 440 miles.   It would have been nice to see friends in South Wales, but with restrictions becoming stronger that sadly not possible.  We made good time, reaching Bristol for 1 pm after leaving at 9. I was sure we would be back for an early-ish dinner.  

 

In the past I’ve written about the state of driving on British Roads. How it is possible to drive across France and arrive within expected times. Yet in this country, any long distant journey is like playing Russian Roulette.  This time I lost, the signs warned of delays, up to an hour, but they lied.  

 Motorway Shut at Bristol. 

A big accident at junction 19 meant that all southbound traffic was being directed up and over the junction. We reached the tail of the jam at quarter past one.  After 3 hours of virtually sitting still Mog and I headed off at junction 18 and towards the southern edge of Bristol. Any movement being better than none. The traffic crawled and Mog behaved well. Clearly her cooling system was fine. Finally, by 5 we picked up the southern M5 again near Weston Super Mare. We had lost over 3 1/2 hours.  

Moving again. 

After a quick comfort stop and filling up at Exeter, we headed home down the A30. Finally arriving at 8.30 pm.  A twelve hour trip. Those last few miles being hard on both of us. Mog’s only major breakdown being my fault for running to many amps through a switch never designed for it.  Coming to a halt outside my place. Thankfully my neighbour moved his car to allow me to freewheel back into a parking spot.

 

Arrival and conclusion.

After all the problems I’d never thought it would be possible to drive a 68-year-old car so far. Yet the only major problem was due to me.  We proved that a small economy car designed over 70 years ago is still capable of long-distance travel.   
It makes me question what we have lost and gained in those intervening years. For some reason I struggle to imagine in 70 years time a Toyota Yaris inspiring the same passion, let alone the more disposable modern cars. 

Yet, it would be possible for  a Morris Minor to still be going and that makes me smile.

Classified Classic Car Hunting

Classified Hunting. 

Late night classified add looking is never a good thing. 
Hunting that bargain, odd wording, fuzzy pictures or lack whereof spark the interest.  

Requirements

As I’ve already mentioned, the car to replace Bel would have to be an historic one, tax and mot free with cheap insurance. Also, the parts would have to be plentiful and cheap.  That immediately discounts anything with a VW badge, as yes there lots about but you pay a premium. http://www.classicaraddict.com/mx5-goodbye/
 

My requirements meant an older British car, ideally an MG MGB GT, but they are little expensive. To be honest I’m horrified how much once cheap cars are now worth, Ford Capris as an example, a few years ago bangers now anything is worth thousands. After this shock I found myself looking at adds and this is when living in Cornwall is an issue, for many Bristol is the far southwest, Exeter might as well be France  and Cornwall Outer Mongolia. Combined with the amount of salt in the air here, especially near the North Coast we have to travel.  18 months ago I found a MK1 Toyota Rave 4 Auto for a friend at Honiton and felt I’d got away lightly.  Finding a Unicorn Car for a Friend.

 What To Look For In An Add.  

After looking on Facebook Market Place and eBay I tried Gumtree. Lots of  adds full of clear pictures and well written and with each one my heart sank a little lower. Then one stood out, a single fuzzy picture not too far away by our standards as only 100 miles, well 96 away. After getting used to how gumtree works I contacted the seller and asked if we could have a look at the weekend. It would have to be Sunday as I was towing a car back from Plymouth for a friend on the Saturday.  https://www.gumtree.com/

Initial Contact With The Seller.

We agreed a time, this was Thursday evening, on Saturday I confirmed that we would be aiming to be there at midday and if we came to an agreement £200 pounds would be a suitable deposit.  Just before we left on Sunday morning in Bel my soon to be sold MX5 I messaged to let the seller know we were on our way. 

Arriving / Initial  Impressions.  

Aiming for midday I rang 2 minutes passed to let him know we were outside. As he opened the gate, the seller said, “the price is not fixed.” Not the thing to say to a buyer…  The seller is a true gent and to see his lifetime collection of pushbikes, cars, and paraphernal was amazing.  He showed us his much loved 1925 Citroen Cloverleaf  looking just like Brum the children television series and not that much bigger.   

Three generations of petrolheads together all sharing the same passion. The seller, myself and my mate Jess in his early 20’s. Those who know Jess would have guessed the car now. For those who don’t, Jess has two cars on the road, one 1956 2dr  rat rod and the other a very original 1966  4dr and this was the reason he was with me.  Both Jess’s cars are Morris Minors and the car  was a one, except it was a little rarer than many.   http://www.classicaraddict.com/importance-of-gut-instinct/ 

A Morris Minor, But what Type? 

I’d found a 1952 split screen 2dr Minor, listed as a series two and needing a lot of work. She had been stood standing for over 10 years the seller having rescued it from a possible destruction a few years back.  Yet not having the welding skills, he never managed to get her on the road. With the arrival of the Citroen it was time to let her go. 
To be honest my first impression was oh bugger as the interior was stripped out and clearly both sills and lot more needed doing. Yet as Jess clambered all over her, and we managed to make her fire up she spoke to me. Running enough to let me know she wanted to live.   http://www.classicaraddict.com/33/

This is the first of a whole series of posts, and yes there is little hint there…

Dropping the Veil of Society

Dropping the Veil of Society  
For the first time the modern world has shut down.  Like the coyote from the Road Runner cartoon, we are still running, but now in thin air.  The veil of society has been removed and we find what behind is lacking.  


Globally, everyone has become interconnected. We all have, use and consume items from almost every corner of the planet. The economic model has been exposed.  Most of the wealth is owned by very few.  The harsh reality for many is that we are one or two pay cheques from poverty. 
Let alone what we as a species are doing to the planet. 

 

What is the aim of society?  

 Do most of us work to help the elite gain more power and money?  A couple of weeks ago I said goodbye to a client, we have been friends for 5 years. His widow says, “like two peas in a pod.” He died at home with his lifelong partner beside him. Almost 10 years ago I said goodbye to my father. To lead a good life and to die with those who care around us is all we can ask for.  

What is happening now? 

Typically, there has been mass stupidity at all levels. Governments not doing enough or acting fast enough. Selfish arseholes panic buying. Those same muppets not understanding that social distancing now has to be the norm. If we don’t, those overworked people of the medical and emergency services will become overwhelmed. The most vulnerable in society will be hit the hardest. 

 Other countries are facing total shutdown. At the moment, the UK has only partially done so, yet soon like Spain and other parts of the world we will only be allowed out for essential journeys.  I expect shortly after we will face rationing of everything including fuel. To get through this we need to start pulling together. Every time we go to the shop, we need to ask if really need to do so. 

What will happen? 

The disruption has only just started, things will get far worse before they get better.  Yet now is the time to start asking questions. Do we want to return to the old way? Thankfully we can communicate with almost anyone else around the world thanks to the internet and mobile phones. It will have to get really bad before those in power shut down our access.  I doubt any western government will risk doing so. 

 

What can we do?  

 First, heed medical advice.                                                                                                Second, look after those closest to us, our families and our communities. We need to skill share for the good of all. Working locally, but thinking globally.
Third, we really need to have a worldwide  discussion. All of us have the power to change to the future. Now is the time to set aside the differences and see the similarities.  Instead of distracting ourselves, or posting memes of cats, let’s have a proper farsighted discussion.
In the words of John Lennon, lets imagine.

The world after the coronavirus is up to us. 

 

 

My name is Alex Small, 48, I live in Cornwall by myself. Read for BA in English with Creative Writing and an MA in Professional writing later in life with Falmouth University. Better known online as The Naked Writer, or the Classicaraddict.  A dear friend who once was a New York journalist, christened me an Honorary New York wise arse, it should be ass, but I’m British.  

   
 

Old Friends.


We sat across from each other. Old friends, once been closer, but over the years a little distance, perhaps more than we would have liked. It had been over a year since we last had met.  http://www.classicaraddict.com/motorcycles-and-renewed-friendships/

Far warmer in the pub, beside warm log burner. Coffee, good and cheap. About 15 years ago when I had my Kawasaki Z1000 MK2 my friend had gone for 15 mins and came back 45 later. He later bought a Suzuki Bandit 1200 and now has a collection of bikes that many would envy. Our shared connection being first bikes and then all things with an engine.  

My relationship with bikes, well motorcycles has always been a lot more  ambivalent. When younger, they were my life, freedom at its best. Yet now, and despite having two in the lock up waiting for me to get around to fix them I don’t ride.  

With the brace still on, we chatted about dealing with injuries as we get older. My friend spoke about driving, and how thankfully when he had his wrist problem a while back, he still could. Likewise, now I can drive again, far easier in Tug (Vitara,) than my MX5, yet I can. http://www.classicaraddict.com/no-driving-for-6-weeks/ 

We spoke about what we missed when restricted. For me it is the water. My friends and I despite all of us growing up fairly close to the wild north coast of Cornwall never really got into water sports. My older brother was one of the local surf gods from an early age. I was never that good and to be honest bigger surf scared me. Yet the water and the beach has always there. I moved to the South Coast of Cornwall 25 years ago, here it was more swimming and sailing initially.  For a few years I had my own little boat, sailing all year and every condition.  It was only 3 years ago I fell in love with paddleboarding.  

I’m writing sitting in Beerwolf Books, Falmouth http://beerwolfbooks.com. Across from me there are a couple of students in deep discussion about post modernism and Marxist theory. They remind me of how I used to belong to that group when I reading for my undergrad. Even then, I approached it from my default perspective of pragmatic cynicism. I belonged, but didn’t when studying. Someone once commented that I was too practical to be truly academic. I think they meant that when using a hammer, I didn’t hit my hand.   

I  can drive, which is truly amazing with my leg in a brace. Most days and timing it for 2 hours before low tide I head to Swanpool beach. There, a little group of regulars surf the gentle swells we get. Long boarders and paddleboarders together. What has really amazed me is people know who I’m, they chat before heading to the water. The last few years have seen an explosion of those of in and on the water. I belong to that group, much more than I expected.  http://www.classicaraddict.com/one-more-wave/

As we sat drinking our coffee, catching up. My friend spoke of touring on his bike and how mutual friends also had done European tours on theirs. I laughed, bikes could never be practical, for how could I carry a board? My travels consisting of looking stretches of water and rideable surf, not too big or crowded.  

Two old friends catching up, seeing the difference yet understanding some things are the same. For him, the open road calls, for me, it is the water. 

 

SAAB TOO FAR…

This is the first in number of short stories best entitled, this really did happen… 

 

LOUD KNOCK…
A loud knock on my door woke me from thoughts… It was 10.30 pm and to my shock there were two policeman…

“Mr Small, do you own a blue SAAB 900 convertible?”

“Err, yes why?”

They then told me that it was now hanging over a wall in a local car park. No, not joy riders but simply the handbrake failing and this was it’s resting place.

Where I live, we play the parking lottery every day. There is a free car park behind the main street. It is steep and despite being mostly rectangular at one end cars can park at an angle. This was where I’d left the SAAB an hour or so before…

Assessing the situation. 

I followed the Bobby’s down and there was my car. Resting on the wall it was sitting partly on the petrol tank and across the back axle. We were all amazed that it didn’t touch another car during its 60ft passage. With one wheel was about 3 ft over the wall. The damage was minimal, yet unless I was careful much more might be done moving it. The police told me that couldn’t get an Hi AB in to pick the car up. Did I have any ideas…

The Saab rolled from where the blue car is parked past the garage on the left to about where silver car is. Quite a distance and how steep the car park is clear.

Solution. 

The SAAB being front wheel drive and those wheels thankfully were on the tarmac… So, in theory I could drive it off… Mentioning this to the police, they expressed concerns about the tank rupturing. As I’d helped my banger racing mates, I knew how tough the tanks are. As it was  a pre General Motors SAAB, which meant the tank was super strong. Also, being an older design, the back axle was about 3ft from the rear of the car, or a lot to catch on the way off.

The police agreed that this was the best option. Then told me to take it gently. I sat letting the car warm up for a couple of minutes. They gave me the OK.

This was the point I dumped the clutch at 4000 rpm. I didn’t see the faces of my audience, but as the rear wheel hit the far edge of the wall the suspension compressed and then rebounded. This bounced the rear of the car up as I planned. Clearing the wall, no further damage to the car was done and with only a few scratches in the render of the wall the police told me not to worry about it. Then came the question of where to park it until I could get it fixed. The only level parking space was taken by a scruffy Triumph Spitfire, my Spitfire…

 

Afterwards. 

After admitting to owning it the Spitfire, I swapped the cars over and in the morning drove it less than a ¼ of mile to my local tyre and exhaust centre to get the back box replaced. Then my local SAAB Specialist fixed the handbrake. Anyone who has owned a proper SAAB knows that they are very well engineered cars, but it takes a while to learn the idiosyncrasies. So easier to get someone who knows what they are doing than to struggle for hours.

It could have been so much worse. Sadly, the one thing that could kill the car did a few years later. With an odd engine and gearbox design, this was the weak spot, and when second gear went, I drove the car to the end of its mot and then sold it to my mate the specialist.

Oddly this car, despite being well made, comfortable, more economical than expected, very stylish, and with good handling I never truly bonded with it.

Having had another front wheel drive, four-seater convertible, a MK3 VW Golf, that one I still miss. The SAAB, glad I had it, but somehow it was less than the sum of its parts.

Oh, and every time I’m in the car park, I remember and grin.
And the Spitfire has its story… Well lots, but there was one story that relates to this one that will be told.

 

No Driving For 6 Weeks!

No Driving for 6 weeks…  

 

Fog of anaesthetic was wearing off fast. swimming for the surface, mentally fighting the effects of the drugs I sought awareness.  

 

Water was provided, a sip to ease my dry throat. I even managed to thank the surgeon as he left. Then then propped up, hands still attached to various tubes. My leg felt locked, secured, I assumed to ensure that I didn’t move it as I came around.   Fully awake, Tigger was itching to go, porters were called to take myself and the previous patient back to our rooms. Catching a glimpse of her as she was wheeled away, clearly the operation was far harder on her than mine. 30 minutes later the nurses decided to wheel me up, before I made a hobble for it…  

 

There, Rebecca was waiting for me, worry on her face soon replaced by exasperation… Having brought my own food in the form of oatcakes, I asked for them along with some water. A nurse popped in and out a few times, checking I was OK. Apparently, my heart beat dropped down to a level where they wondered if I’d become a tory.  

The physiotherapist knocked and entered, after detaching my arms from the monitoring equipment she pulled back my bed sheet. Rebecca said my face was a picture at this point.  My leg was encased in a brace. ¾ length and clearly meant to be worn for a while. 

I’d been taught to use my crutches before the op to save time. Knowing that I was expecting to have either a piece trimmed away or my meniscus repaired. The two options having different recovery periods. For one the brace would been worn for a few days and the other, weeks… .  The surgeon had repaired my knee, which meant no driving or paddle boarding for 6 weeks.  Needing to keep me in for 4 hours to check that I was OK. A cup of tea was brought and then an oversight on my part. No shorts, so it was time to cut a leg off my jeans, fashion… !  

Compared to when my back and knee had been bad in September this was far less of a nuisance, more a question of logistics…   

Another nurse came in to discharge me, we soon worked out we had a mutual friend in Jasmine, who co owns and runs Daaku. Soon I was up on my feet, rucksack on my bag heading towards the car. As I was leaving the nurse wished Rebecca good luck. 

This forced break means that I’m going to start looking at my using my education. Time to change careers for something a little more financially beneficial. Writing once again, and perhaps having the confidence to submit my work. 

A quick thank you to my Doctor, Mr Mathews the surgeon and all the staff at the Royal Duchy Hospital. We often moan about the NHS, but in this case I couldn’t have been treated better. Thank you.