HubNut Blog

What’s on my mind?

Dream Drive: Citroën-Maserati DS V6

I’ve known of this car since at least 2006. Built by former Lotus engineer Adie Pease, the DSM is the car the DS should always have been – with a few added quirks. A bit of background first.

My first sight of the DSM, in 2006 – here with the roof off.

When Citroën was developing the DS, it rather ran out of development funds. That led to the mighty D wowing the world with its starship looks in 1955, while that swooping bonnet hid a warmed-over Traction Avant engine – a unit with pre-war origins (which miraculously lived on until 1981 in the current catering van of choice – the H van). Later on, it got a better engine, but it never had enough cylinders. The initial plan was for a flat-six, but those plans were kiboshed by economics. Even Michelin, who then owned the company, apparently had limits.

The SM was launched in 1970, and finally here was a car with DS-like suspension and steering (albeit further developed) and a worthy engine at last – a product of Citroën’s purchase of Maserati. The V6 engine has a 90 degree angle, which is largely due to it being a truncated V8. There are four camshafts, sodium-filled valves (often replaced) and a soundtrack that can gently cause excitement amongst the hair folicles of a motor enthusiasts neck.

Nine years later, riding in a dream machine.

Citroën did build a few DS V6s, but only really to test the SM’s hardware. That said, they did take one of them ice racing just for a laugh and that car is still in the Citroën Conservatoire. It’s a car I have a lot of time for.

So, if you wanted a V6 DS, there were few options other than to build your own. Over a few suitable drinks at a Citroën Car Club meeting, that’s what happened when Adie Pease and owner Edward Davidge let beer replace common sense.

Just to add to the fun, they opted to use a semi-automatic gearbox, as used on the DS but never the SM. Oh, and they’d already turned the car into a four-door convertible – the entire roof is removable.

While I’d known the car for years, I’d never had a chance to meet the owner until he turned up at a small camping event I’d organised near home. When we decided to head into Aberystwyth to soak up some sun, I was thrilled to get a chance to have a ride in this car – one I’d lusted after for so long. When he said I could have a drive if I liked, it was all I could do to stop running around in circles and jumping for joy. That sort of thing rarely gives the owner much confidence.

However, I did get my hands on the keys and soon found myself trying to manoeuvre a very powerful car, with five people in it, in a very tight car park, backwards. A few things made this difficult. One, the DS is wider at the front than the rear, so you can’t just rely on your mirrors when reversing through a tight spot. Second, this DSM uses a semi-automatic gearbox, which has a centrifugal clutch. It’s a mechanical, automated clutch over which the driver has no control. Thirdly, the clutch set-up ‘needs work.’

Yes, that is my hose reel. Sorry about that. Here, the DSM has its roof fitted.

Disaster was averted and I was able to drive away from Aberystwyth in a big, floaty car that made noises I could listen to all day. Make no mistake, this is a car that demands your attention. Your first experience of a DS, SM or CX can be a terrifying one. Super-direct steering is allied to super soft suspension, while the brakes are incredibly fierce, and controlled by a rubber button on the floor. My experience with these cars paid off, and I kept all of my movements as slow and controlled as possible. The reward is a car that shrugs off the worst of roads – not actually too much of an issue in rural Ceredigion as the roads are fantastic.

With the engine warm and a hill looming, I could give it a bootful and let that Italian engine really sing. Power was actually a bit lacking – the car could do with a fettle admits the owner – but go beyond 3000rpm and she really hitches up her skirts and dashes for the horizon. It feels quite racy apart from one aspect – that semi-automatic gearbox. A small stalk protrudes from the steering column, and can be casually flicked by your right-hand without having to relinquish your hold on the steering wheel. The actual gearchanges are performed using hydraulic power, though you do need to lift off the throttle. That’s because the clutch is disengaged as the change is made. You have to time your return to the throttle perfectly. Too soon and the clutch is not yet engaged, and you just end up with revs. Too late and precious momentum is lost. It’s a ridiculously sporty engine allied to a not-at-all sporty gearbox. Yet somehow, it works.

The tight, twisty roads of mid-Wales were no problem at all, as the DS has fabulous road manners. the hydraulically-assisted steering is wonderfully direct, and nicely weighted. Grip is plentiful – from the tyres, if not the seats. My passengers had to hold on tight. It didn’t seem to take long for me to get used to this car. I quickly adapted to the need to blip the throttle on downshifts, as otherwise, the centrifugal clutch tends not to re-engage very quickly – which can leave you feeling like you’ve got no engine braking and a gearbox full of neutrals. Easing off on the throttle helped make changes smoother too, though there’s a real knack to getting a perfect gearchange, especially when really going for it. The owner told me to go for revs – I wasn’t going to ignore such an invitation!

The problem here is gearing. It’ll quite happily do 70mph in second gear! Fourth is very much an overdrive, but there’s quite a gap to third. That means you often end up hanging on to third gear, just because fourth result in too much of a rev drop – and a loss of momentum. Not that a screaming V6 is particularly onerous to listen to, but it remains a minor imperfection.

I hate to grumble though, because this is a very rare thing indeed. This is one of those ‘meet your hero’ moments that definitely did not disappoint. In fact, the only negative thing is that I was so fired up about the experience, that photography went straight out of the window. I can only apologise. I was having the time of my life.

PS – I did get a video while I was travelling in the rear. Sadly, the engine noise is not very prominent, but you can enjoy the views!

Ranty Yan and the problem with museums

I’m a car enthusiast, but I have a major problem with car museums, and I’m not sure I’m right.

You see, the problem is, the motor car is a marvellous creation – a way to taste freedom as you hurtle along at impossible (to a human on foot) speeds, scenery flashing by, engine roaring and your senses bombarded. Even in a Perodua Nippa.

I took this photo in 2003. It hasn’t move far since…

Sure, I can look at a car and appreciate it, but that appreciation doesn’t last long. I mean, yes, a Citroen SM is a fabulous looking machine, but even I would struggle to look at one for more than five minutes. Throw me the keys though, and you’ll find it hard to remove me from the driver’s seat even after several hours. Unless it needs more fuel. Or has broken down.

But an SM just sitting there? No. Wrong. It’s like a caged bird, or a bear chained to the ground. It’s magnificence with its wings clipped. Stupendous wonder kept in a box and stored on a shelf like a mere trinket. Here is a car with a race-inspired Maserati engine, that makes a noise that can elevate the hairs on my neck better than Johann Sebastian Bach or Saint-Saens. A machine that floats in an uncanny manner on spheres filled with nitrogen and a strange green fluid. A car with steering that can centre its steering even when stationary and which adjusts its assistance level depending on speed. On a car designed in 1970!

The best kind of Citroen SM. One that is freeeee!

Seeing one just sitting around like a bored elephant is frankly a little disturbing. That’s exactly how I felt when I went to the Stondon Transport Museum a few years ago. There was little joy in seeing a car which, even though it is rare and spectacularly blue, hadn’t really turned a wheel for many years – possibly not since 1997 when it was put on display. The worst thing you can do to a hydraulic Citroen is not use it, which is why the car failed to sell when it first appeared at auction in 2012, and made less than £10,000 when it finally sold last year. I do hope it gets the recommissioning it deserves. If you own it, let me know!

I have problems with other museums too, even the hallowed Heritage Motor Centre. I remember visiting the place back in 1993, when it first opened. I remember how magical an experience it was to a then-15-year-old. But I also remember the Austin Sevens and BMW Dixi sitting around the escalators. They’re still there now.

To be fair to the Heritage Motor Centre though, they’ve got a lot better in recent years. More of the cars now seem to be running, and that is VERY exciting indeed. Not just because it gives opportunities for over-excited journos to drive them, but just because cars need to live and breath and feel some motion through their myriad components. Yes, I know it’s stupid to humanise a lump of metal, but to many of us, cars are more than just conveyances. They have soul.

And that’s what made the Practical Classics Restoration and Classic Car Show so good to me. It showcased cars that had lived a life and had the scars to prove it! Or that had been lovingly restored so they could enjoy another life. I could wander around the place looking at cars that yes, weren’t doing an awful lot, but which had great tales to tell. Some had made impressive journeys to get there – like Callum Beveridge and his near-1000-mile round trip to the show in his immaculately restored Citroen Dyane.

Definitely not a museum piece

Now, before all the museums in the land start castigating me, I should point out that I understand their problem. That being that it costs an awful lot of money to keep a huge fleet of elderly cars going. Vauxhall Heritage and Ford Heritage manage it, because they’re backed by enormous, global car companies. Places like Stondon, or even the Haynes Motor Museum, just don’t have the budget to keep every car going. I can understand that. I also know that museums often save cars from the crusher – I will concede its better to see a car not-moving in a museum than being turned into bean tins.

But I just prefer cars in motion. It pains me that the Coventry Transport Festival won’t happen this year, just because I enjoyed last year’s spectacle of quite so many classics in action completely beguiling. These cars weren’t being thrashed about, but nor were they just sitting around. They were simply being driven, and that was enough. Classic road runs seem to be on the rise at the moment and that’s fantastic news. Just like this gaggle of Austin Sevens I discovered at my local hotel the other day, the sight of old cars being used is truly one to warm the heart.

How utterly fantastic a sight is this? Austin Sevens in mid-Wales

So, while I understand the problems museums face – the same as many enthusiasts indeed – I must concede that I would still rather head out to find classics in action than to stare at shiny, motionless objects. To me, museums are often a bit too much like automotive taxidermy.

Classics at the NEC and The Future

I spent a thoroughly marvellous weekend surrounded by crusty old classics – and some nice, tidy ones – at the long-winded Practical Classics Restoration and Classic Car Show, NEC, Birmingham. I was tweeting my delicious findings as I went, like so.

Drat. Too late. This #barnfind @citroen SM has sold. #missedout @NECRestoShow pic.twitter.com/yIfAZDYLQE

— Ian (@HubNutVids) March 29, 2015

I wasn’t there to ‘work,’ so no pressure to create a show report. I was there to help sell 2CVGB to the masses, and to just chat 2CV with folk who had happy memories or technical queries. It was a very relaxing show – far more than the bigger November Classic Car Show, which can get a bit too hectic. I also caught up with fellow motoring scribes, which is always a pleasure.

Which leads me to the present day. It would seem that my temporary full-time employment is at an end, as a permanent employee has been engaged. I can’t say I’ll miss the alarm clocks but it has been a very nice and welcome distraction from the stress of trying to earn enough to live on by stringing words together in an engaging and grammarful manner, just like this sentence isn’t.

Citroen 2cv square headlamp 1970s colourful NEC Classic Restoration Show

A suitably inspiring weekend, in more ways than one – not bad for a phone pic

Not wishing to get too bohemian, I really do like writing. Even though I was working full-time, I was still doing the odd bit of paid wordsmithery, but I feel suitably refreshed now and ready to really let my fingers fly. Let’s hope I can find sufficient avenues for my outpourings, as there is a 2CV to restore. Spending the weekend on a stand with four very nice 2CVs has not made me feel any more joyous about the upcoming MOT expiry. However, it was nice to meet readers who have followed my exploits with the 2CV. Like myself, it seems they generally agree that she simply has to remain a 2CV. I’m sure she will, I’m just not sure how long she’ll be resting in my garage before it happens.

One final point. I must say that my Samsung Galaxy S4 Mini is a marvellous thing. It seems to have coped very well with the dreadful lighting at the NEC, and I didn’t get my Canon digital camera out of my bag all weekend! The BlackBerry Curve is not missed at all I’m afraid.

Back on track – Devon roadtrip

After last week’s brain fart, I’m pleased to report that sanity has returned, helped my a marvellous weekend roadtrip to visit family and do some other things in sunny Devon. I often seem to find myself travelling solo long distance in the XM and I really do enjoy it – though naturally it seems a bit selfish to be wafting along in a huge barn with even my lovely wife joining me.

Another roadtrip, almost flawless

There was an added element of panic initially when paranoia got the better of me, and I decided I simply had to get the XM’s cambelt replaced. I had no idea whether it had been done recently or not and the last thing I wanted was an expensive, engine-wrecking failure. So, the XM was whisked over to Sparrow Automotive all a bit last minute, which helps explain why it was still being worked on when I arrived to take it to Devon. Pete is a very busy man!

I had to turn my sat nav into a manual map to navigate my way across Hereford due to simply horrific jams. I’ve no idea what was going on, but cars simply weren’t moving. Eventually, I got to the other side, after exploring many side roads, and filled the XM’s tank. Over £80. Gulp.

Then it was down to Newport, across the Severn Crossing, down the M5 and the rest was easy. Or was it? No. The motorway had been pretty blissful considering it was rush hour by the time I got past Bristol. But roadworks on the slip road at junction 27 of the M5 were absolutely crippling. I’d like to meet the person who decided that was a satisfactory way of doing things. It took over half an hour to travel one mile. ONE!

At this point, I noticed the temperature gauge was sweeping upwards. That was impressive in itself, because The Seahorses “Blinded by the Sun” was blaring out of the cassette player with perfect timing – the XM still had no headlining after the sunroof saga, and I therefore had no sunvisors. There was no doubting it though. The gauge was now above 90 and didn’t seem likely to stop. I’m sure the fans are meant to kick in at that point. I resorted to putting the heater on full blast, which took things back below 90. So, Devon’s stupid road planners almost cooked my XM.

Once up to speed along the A39, the temperature went back to its usual spot and all was well. And all remained well for my time in Bideford and the surrounding area and my return home. In fact, the XM really is a truly marvellous weapon for a long-distance jaunt – though my only points of reference at the moment are an exceedingly tiny, Malaysian city car and a French peasant wagon. Still, the XM is relaxing in the extreme. Best of all, I got back home after over 400 miles with well over half a tank of fuel left. Astonishing given that I was hard on the speed limit at all times.

XM pauses in Welsh border country. Stunning. View and car.

And there’s another point of reference. This was a repeat of the trip I attempted in an electric car in November last year – a journey of stress, boredom and cold toes. The ‘range’ of the XM meant I simply didn’t have to worry about whether I would make it to the next stop. At one point, I drove for three hours without a break (other than sitting in a stationary car in the first lane of the M5 for half an hour) which is something most electric cars can’t even contemplate. I even avoided a breakdown by merely putting the heater on. Something I’d been loathe to do in the Nissan e-NV200.

I enjoyed it a lot. I just love long-distance jaunts. Driving into the sunset, music playing, car wafting – as much as I love the 2CV, this really is something the XM is exceptional at. It’ll be even better when I refit the sunvisors…

What day is it again?

It seems that things are all over the place at the moment, including my sleep patterns. If you know why I woke up before 5am this morning, dreaming of Robin Williams starring as a serf being picked on by the landed gentry in medieval times, then I welcome an explanation.

Perhaps it’s over-stimulation on the car front. Let’s examine the evidence. First of all, I dash off to Liverpool to acquire more tat (a week ago already!). A few days later, I headed off to the Forest of Dean for sunroof change antics, which also involved exposure to a Messerschmitt (second of the day), a Smart Roadster, some parts of a Bond Minicar and a Fiat 126 BIS all on one funky driveway. Not content with this, I drove up to Hereford and swapped the XM for the best courtesy car in the world thanks to my mate Pete. Can’t believe it’s two years since I last got to play with this magnificent steed.

Seabrook, yesterday

So, I’ve spent the week having terrible trouble trying to decide what to commute in each day. What a first world problem. The choices have been between cars with engines no larger than 847cc but all have strong cases for them. The 2CV is now well into its final month on the road, so clearly I need to drive it as much as possible while I still can. But the Ami is only here for a week (in theory) so I need to drive that as much as possible while I still can too. And because I’m pathetic, I can’t stand to have a car standing around outside not being driven, which is why I used the Perodua today – all dizzy 42bhp of it.

It’s all a bit over-stimulating, especially when you factor in trying to capture video evidence of various automotive antics (to appear at some undesignated point in the future), having a full-time job (that may or may not end up being permanent) and fitting in some writing work around all of that too. AND trying to find a suitable replacement bus for the community transport company I work for. It seems there are very few suitable buses anywhere near here. Anyone want a Merc Sprinter with a poorly rear axle? Oh, and I got a new mobile phone, which after several days, I still can’t use very well. I seem to have spent most of that time trying to disable annoying things.

Given how quiet the past four years have been, as I gently stagger out of bed, usually in the morning, and put finger to keyboard to work when I feel like it, this has all been rather a shock. Uncertainty was always there – it’s a natural part of freelancing – but uncertainty seems to have been even more uncertain this year. Or has it? I really can’t tell anymore. Once you’ve woken up dreaming of Robin Williams, it’s hard to know what’s going on.

Normal service to be resumed next week. Probably. I think I need a holiday.

Citroën XM: Sunroof woes

Since I bought the XM, and presumably long before, it has had a sunroof leak. I checked the drains weren’t clogged – they weren’t – and then noticed that the water appeared to be coming through the glass! How was that possible?!

This little bit of rot causes BIG issues

Turns out that the frame the glass is bonded too often corrodes on XMs. This both breaks the bonding between the glass/metal, and pushes out the main seal. Now that seal isn’t designed to stop water coming through the hole – that’s why there are drains – but it IS meant to stop water coming through the glass. When it starts bulging up, water gets in and then passes through where the bonding has failed. This is what’s known as a pain in the arse.

I tried taping over the sunroof but capillary action allowed water to seep in regardless – and the tape then prevented the seal from ever drying out. So, I was forced to seek a replacement glass/frame. I removed the sodden headlining so it could dry out, and I could also reattach the cloth that had started to sag after the moisture washed away the glue. The plan was then to replace the entire mechanism.

Note. Before replacing an entire sunroof mechanism, make sure the new mechanism works! We learnt this because the one we fitted was badly seized. Plan B. Back out with the new mechanism (which is very heavy!) and swap the glass/frame over. Me and a friend did this while having no clue how sunroof mechanisms work. Eventually, we got it all working, tested and back in the car.

Fresh air motoring! Quite a big hole

As it happens, I immediately drove the XM to a Citroen specialist for timing belt renewal, so it’ll be sometime until I can tell whether this refit has been successful. Certainly it’s true that the new frame is in much better condition! I should have the car back next weekend. Place bets now for how long it’ll take me to get around to refitting the headlining…

I am still liking this car though. It’s not too joyous around town, due to the heavy clutch and tired spheres, but it just lopes along on fast country roads so well. That’s why I own this car. So, spheres are next on the hit list, and I may have to do something about the clutch too. They can last a long time in XUD diesels, so it may even be the original. Tight budget prevents me from getting too much done in one go, but I am steadily improving this car! It astonishes me how much more I like it than the BX, of which I’ve long been a fan.

Perodua Nippa – a closer look

Now the initial burst of excitement has worn off, and I’ve recovered from the 130-mile drive home and a very busy day of minibus duty the next day, I’ve had a chance to properly assess the little Nippa. I even gave it an oil change and a wash.

Perodua gets some fresh oil. Fits nicely in my messy garage!

The car with an oil filter and oil, though I deemed the 15w40 oil too thick for these engines. They like oil that’s closer to water! Handily, I had some 5w30 left over from when I owned the Daihatsu Sirion. It’s marvellous being able to service two cars on one 5-litre bottle of oil. The oil capacity is tiny! I’ll also be changing the spark plugs and air filter once I’ve got my hands on them.

I then gave the car a good wash, including going over all of the door/bonnet/boot shut areas, some of which were very mucky indeed. I even cleaned out the fuel filler area! Going over a car, you start to spot all the imperfections. There is some light surface rust setting in on the lower edges of the sills, the nearside rear wheelarch and bonnet slam panel. I know from the Sirion that rot can be a menace, even on a car that’s quite young by my standards – 14 years! I’ll soak these mainly-invisible areas with a light oil to try and keep the rot at bay for now. I can hardly justify going to the trouble of trying to eradicate the rust entirely on a £300 car!

Here’s where the rot begins. Needs slowing down.

Really though, it’s in exemplary condition for its age. It helps that it was garaged for the first ten years of its life, and driven very infrequently. The service history (from 12 to 10,691 miles) shows that it was initially serviced every six months, even though it was only doing a few hundred miles in-between! Remarkably, the clutch was changed at 10,630 miles – though perhaps this indicates the age of the first owner… It must be said, it’s a car that does often need you to slip the clutch far more than other cars I’ve owned. The pedal is more of a button in my Citroens. Clutch is either on or off!

Anyway, the impressive service history helps explain why the engine internals look brand new!

Through the oil hole – pretty clean in there!

There’s no history from 10,791 to 24,000, but it’s apparent that the most recent owner must have done some servicing. For instance, I could easy remove the old oil filter by hand – no tools required. That’s always nice. Suggests it hadn’t been there for too long and that whoever fitted it wasn’t an oaf.

The more time I spend with this car, the more I love its sheer simplicity. It’s so refreshing to see bare metal inside a car. Yes, it’s a bit tinny and yes, the ride is hardly sophisticated, but it’s huge fun. Direct, unassisted steering and tenacious grip mean it is a barrel of fun in the bends, while that growling three-pot engine just begs you to let it rev. That said, it has a surprising turn of torque if you want to amble along. To a point. Crawling in traffic is something it just doesn’t like to do.

Having got the seal of approval from my Mini-loving wife, I hope it’ll stick around for some time to come.

New car: The Perodua Nippa

I’m very glad that once again, it seems possible to buy not very much car for not very much money. Lower scrap values and a seeming abundance of cheap motors mean that once again, you can spend very little money if you know where to look. Given how little money we have right now, I had to look hard!

Fortunately, a likely candidate was spotted on Gumtree. I’ve been keeping a beady eye on Gumtree for quite some time, spending hours trawling through some truly hopeless adverts and cars. Then I thought it’d be nice to own something that I actually wanted to own. Buoyed by the success of the Daihatsu Sirion – a car which was only sold due to horrific rot – I decided another Daihatsu might be nice. But I’m a sly old devil. I knew that another way into Daihatsu ownership was to consider the products of Malaysian company Perodua. Once Daihatsu moved on to a new model, the old one gets punted off to Malaysia. It’s a successful Oriental trick, as we’ve previously seen with the Kia Pride (Mazda 121) and Daewoo Nexia. Perhaps those Asian manufacturers were inspired by the Ford Popular of 1959 – an ancient Anglia rebadged to sell as a budget buy alongside the new Anglia 100E.

Sure enough, while I was not finding a Daihatsu to match budget and desire, I spied a Perodua Nippa that had serious potential. This is a reworked Daihatsu Mira L200 – a car that I found seriously desirable as a 16-year old. I was a bit strange like that. Featuring a mighty 847cc triple-cylinder engine, it was the cheapest car you could buy new in the UK in 1999. Ten years earlier, the cheapest cars were things like the Lada Riva, Skoda Estelle and Citroen 2CV6 Spécial. How times had changed.

For instance, despite its low, low price, the Nippa has fuel injection. It doesn’t have a lot else to be honest, and it is tiny. Even tinier in the very poor resolution pictures that accompanied the advert. The two-line sales pitch didn’t really fill in the blanks either.

However, a querying email was met with plenty of information and gave a chance to vet the seller. He sounded genuine, could use actual English (not a guarantee at this price level, even amongst Natives – or perhaps especially) and knocked £50 off the £350 asking price because there was less MOT left than he thought. He confirmed the mileage of 24,000 and it sounded ideal.

So, a £23 train ticket was purchased to get me from home to Bootle, near Liverpool. The journey was long and mainly uneventful. The seller turned out to be a lovely chap who I could have chatted with all day has I not needed to drive all the way back home. The car turned out to be as good as described and came with a stash of parts too.

The new steed – the tiny Perodua Nippa

Now I must admit, the Nippa is hardly the last word in refinement. This was entirely expected. After all, the Sirion’s ride was pretty dreadful – the Nippa has cheaper plastics and wheels two inches smaller! It was made all the worse for me by the dreadful state of the roads in Liverpool. Quite horrific! There was also much more road noise than I expected, and a lot of wind noise too.

On the plus side, it went very well considering its genteel 42bhp, with more torque than I was expecting. Thanks to other noise, the turbine-smooth engine was impossible to hear above about 40mph. It was a bit lumpy on tickover, but I feel its well in need of a service. It zipped along at motorway speeds very nicely though. 70mph felt like no bother at all.

This is a car very low on frills, which is entirely why it was purchased. There’s no power steering, electric windows, central locking, airbags or anti-lock brakes. It really is the 2CV of its time. Ride aside… But the engineering is sound, and it drove the 130 miles back to Wales with no problems at all. It even managed to do it on just £12 of fuel – 55mpg! Cheaper and quicker than the train.

It really is very small!

Now it’s back, a few faults have made themselves known. The windscreen seal seems to leak, so I’m hoping a smidge of sealant will keep it dry inside. It also seems to burn a little oil on the overrun – the Sirion did this too. These engines do seem to crud up their piston rings very easily, so that much-needed service will hopefully help. While the official service schedule calls for changes every 6000 miles, I may well go to 3000 intervals for a while. The oil capacity is so low that you can get two services out of one 5-litre bottle of oil!

Really, the Nippa is a replacement for our Mini, which my wife still misses a great deal. It’ll be replacing the 2CV for a time too, as that comes off the road next month for a restoration of unspecified length. Hopefully, it will prove to be an excellent bargain buy.

Blatant trend whoring – Jeremy Clarkson

Yes, ok. So, talking about Top Gear and Jeremy Clarkson at the moment is rather blatant trend whoring, but I have to respond.

Some cocking about, not in Argentina, not yesterday

You see, my social media is now full of people crying about the potential loss of what was once a pretty good motoring show. I’m not upset at all. In fact, I wish the Beeb had had the balls to call time on Clarkson yonks ago. I’m all for free speech, but his often racist, usually politically incorrect and nearly always incorrect rants were something I ended up choosing to ignore. My Sunday nights will be no different if there’s no Top Gear as I don’t watch it.

I do find it annoying that Clarkson has gone so far down the route of being a complete arse. I genuinely do like his writing style, and own many of his books. “I know you got soul” is a beautifully moving book about the overall demise of 20th century icons. I’ve also greatly enjoyed some of his non-car telly.

But as new Top Gear drifted from petrolhead viewing to something that appeals to a far wider audience, I’ve found the show less and less satisfying. The needless destruction of cars. The pointless driving into each other. The ‘omg how hilarious’ completely staged ‘accidents.’

For too long, the BBC has struggled with how you discipline someone who brings in so much income. Now they’ve taken action, they’re branded as lefty idiots because Clarkson has made it cool to be rude about people with different colour skin, or from different continents. In fact, he has made rudeness seem very appealing and it’s that complete lack of respect for anything that isn’t hugely powerful or a white male that means I will not mourn the show’s demise should it happen.

You brought it on yourself you daft twat.

Solving the fleet problem

The 2CV will be going off the road next month. I have various possibilities flying around for her salvation, but they all require money I don’t have, so that salvation is going to take some time to put into action.

Restoring this car has to be the priority, surely?

That leaves us with just the XM. That makes life tricky and while I have no reason to doubt the XM, it is a 20-year old hydropneumatic Citroen that cost less than £400 to buy. Chances are, it could develop the odd niggle. It already has – just not any that stop it being used. Yet…

There’s also the issue that while I’m temporarily working part-time, it leaves Rachel at home with no transport. Apart from the once-a-week bus service that the company I’m working for provides! Here is the biggest problem with rural living. It becomes quite difficult if you don’t have a car.

The temporary job is at least providing a bit more income, but things are still pretty tight. Especially as the XM is well overdue some attention. It needs a service – including timing belt replacement, which inevitably means replacing the timing belt tensioner and water pump, because failure of either could potentially wreck the engine. It makes sense to replace the lot. I have the parts, and have probably spent about £80 for all the service and timing belt bits. I already have the oil in stock and I have a feeling I probably have the right fuel filter in the garage somewhere, brought incorrectly for a BX some time ago. Possibly. I’m also replacing the entire sunroof cassette next weekend because the leaks are just beyond annoying. Especially if, like my dear wife, you have the misfortune to sit on the passenger seat after a day of rain…

Oh, and just for good measure, both the 2CV and XM are out of tax this month. Both need taxing, as Elly the 2CV has to attend an event I’m organising in early April. I guess I’ll be testing out the new direct debit option – which should automatically cancel when Elly’s MOT lapses. We’ll see…

This means trying to acquire a new car on a tiny budget. Well, I do like a buying challenge! A challenge that has been greatly assisted by friends and readers of this blog. I don’t know who sent me a set of strings for my bass guitar, but they were greatly received. Other generosity has revealed itself recently too. It’s nice to know that people are nice! Even if I don’t feel I deserve it.

Anyway, all this means that my bold assertion earlier in the year that I would own a Citroen Ami 6 before the end of 2015 may be shot down in flames. We need something cheap and fairly ordinary fairly quickly, and restoring Elly has to be a bigger priority than buying yet another quirky Citroen.

So, we’re in March already, and I still have no idea how this year is going to pan out. Hopefully it’ll be fun!

HubNut – celebrating the average!