HubNut Blog

What’s on my mind?

Dark days of despair

I fear I may have wiped myself out somewhat over the past few weeks. Work has been very busy, the community bus driving thing I’m involved with has been very busy. Then I was ill, which did little to help matters. Then cars started breaking. The 2CV was discovered to be quite rotten. The new BX sprung a hydraulic leak. The Mercedes is still pretty rubbish. This was all just after I sold a perfectly working BX. I’m starting to think that this was a bad decision.

This brought on a very mild spell of depression. The problem is, when I get depressed, I get on Ebay. You can’t beat a dose of retail therapy. It’s a shame that retail therapy for me involves buying big, expensive things. I know some women would happily spend what I spend on one car on a ‘nice’ pair of shoes, but I can’t play that card. Sure, my wife recently did spend several hundred pounds on a pair of shoes, but they’re destined for a long life and can even be returned for repairs during their lifetime. Sensible shoes.

And ‘sensible’ was the word that sprung to mind as I headed to Ebay recently. Fed up with knackered, old, worn-out cars, (the Merc has covered least miles at just 174,000) I thought I might buy something more modern. Something with lower mileage and boring enough to work most of the time.

This is how I found myself weighing up the pros and cons of Ford Focuseseses, Citroen Berlingos and even Toyota Avensiseseses. Mainly, I learnt that making plurals of some modern cars is a pain in the arse. Clearly, I was in a highly dangerous mental state if I was seriously contemplating Toyota Avensis ownership. £449 didn’t seem a lot for a low mileage, clean example though. Very sensible indeed.

I wanted a Focus, but I think I’m ok now…

And it certainly makes sense to get something newer. My classic insurance policy is great for anything 20 years old or older. It doesn’t seem to matter what it is, it can go on that policy and it costs me about £200 a year. For several cars. Brilliant. But there is no No Claims Discount. I have 9 years, accrued on other stuff, that I could use on a modern car. In fact, insuring a Ford Focus diesel would cost me only £166 a year apparently. It would also allow me to drive other vehicles third party…

All very sensible stuff. But is it a good idea? I’ve been trying to make the case for some time that the Citroen BX is the ultimate practical classic. Economical, capacious, comfortable, swift yet also interesting. It manages to be many things that many cars can’t be. But the one I have now is frankly a bit worn out. Not surprising after 306,000 miles you might say. The engine is tired, the gearbox is tired and it seems some suspension pipes are tired. I think I’ve stopped that leak now but it still loses quite a lot of engine oil. The turbo sounds dreadful and it smokes like a tyre fire. Contrary to earlier opinions by this author, it isn’t a brilliant car. Once I get it sorted out, I’m sure it will be, but it’s not there yet.

Frankly though, perhaps the most sensible thing I could do would be to buy back the silver BX. It is on the market again as the new owner has realised that it isn’t a Porsche 924. This is accidental vehicle purchasing that I thoroughly approve of, seeing as how at one stage, the car that eventually became a Mercedes-Benz 300E was actually meant to be a Suzuki Cappuccino…

It is true though that sometimes I do want a car that isn’t exciting. Sometimes you really do just want to hop in a car and go somewhere. The silver BX was that car. I went all over the place in it. If I needed to nip out, I’d invariably use it as it doesn’t leak water into my shoes if it rains, always starts (apart from when the new owner found one day that the ignition barrel had seized…) and was still jolly to drive. Why did I sell it? Sometimes I am very stupid.

Being creative

People sometimes ask me how I write a feature and I always find it very difficult to answer. Some think I must apply logic and use extensive notes and then plan out how the feature will start, meander and end. Well, it doesn’t really work like that. I just sort of do it.

Sure, I’ll have some overview in my head, but it is far from a fully fleshed out one. Usually, there will just be a few key points floating around in the grey matter that I’ll attempt to turn into words. That’s how this missive started. At the moment, I’ve no idea whether this will be a lengthy tirade or just a short thing.

You can be creative with cats. Especially daft ones.

The moments before this paragraph was started, and there were precisely five seconds between the last paragraph at this one, were spent thinking of possible next paragraphs. I had an idea in my head and while I sit here typing, the washing machine of my mind continues to churn. The words just sort of fall out via the medium of my fingers. I’m not consciously thinking of what comes next, it just flows.

The flow is something I rarely analyse as it just baffles me. I’m no word smith really – I rarely sit back and spend time carefully restructuring or adding in a fancy word to replace a bland one. I don’t understand it, but I’m very glad that I have it. It’s something I can do. Like songwriters who can actually write songs. That’s an incredible skill and not necessarily one you can learn by reading a book.

Yet it’s reading books that really fired up my creative brain. I was always into reading. I’ve just taken time out to re-read The BFG by Roald Dahl. That was a very interesting experience – he was one hell of a writer. He got children to contemplate words like Snozzcumber and Woopsy splunkers, but also confronts the infant reader with concepts as hideous as war and human atrocities against each other. Sure, he often goes a bit far – it is untrue that humans are the only animal that kills its own kind – but the point is that he gets children to consider the wider world, despite the story being a rather far-fetched one in which Giants cross the land either blowing dreams or eating you. It’s sheer genius.

It wasn’t just that either. I absorbed car books and magazines at a ridiculous level, as I may have already mentioned at some point in the past. Really, this was training. I don’t need to think about what a car magazine feature should be like, because it is imprinted on my brain. That can cause problems. If I try and break out of that known model, I do stumble a bit and actually have to scratch my head, drink more tea and (once the tea is safely out of the way) stroke my beard in a very knowledgeable manner.

I s’pose in some ways I’m a reluctant creative type. I don’t really think of myself as creative, but I am. After all, I can sit here at a computer at gone half ten on a Friday night and churn out this sort of drivel. That must be a skill, surely?

I guess I’m just writing out my internal dialogue. The problem I have is that while I can type very quickly indeed (about 80wpm), my brain seems to only work at that speed. Ask me to write down my thoughts and I’ll get cracking immediately. Ask me to my face and my brain struggles to act quickly enough. It’s one reason I hate public speaking. My brain is too slow.

I’ve allowed myself the rare treat of drifting very far from the point. My intent at the start of this blog post was to discuss how the creative process can get utterly sidelined by illness. I’ve had something which I thought was flu but was probably just a heavy cold. It was an absolute rotter of a cold though, causing three nights of near-sleeplessness (so this is what parenting feels like), fever and aches and pains. I’ve had better weeks. Still, I just about managed to churn out the required work but what a struggle it was. After writing the first news story, it took two hours for my brain to recover sufficiently to write another. It was a very odd feeling. I was trying to lay the words out on the page but it just wasn’t happening. It was quite scary to be honest.

Happily, I got the next two stories written that afternoon with a slightly better flow, and even managed to construct a little blog post that night. It’s not nice having your skills effectively withdrawn like that though.

Whether this gives you any more insight into how I work is highly doubtful. As I’ve said, I can’t really analyse it myself. Are writers special? Well, I tend to think not – I’ve only been one full-time for six years and I’m the first to admit that there are people out there who do far better than I do. The key thing is, I type as if I’m telling someone something. There’s no interruption, so it’s all a bit one-sided, but that means I have to try and preempt any queries. Pretty much anyone can hold a conversation, so it follows that pretty much anyone could tell someone something using the written word. Evidence from forums suggests that this is indeed the case. I’ve seen some forum posts that have held me absolutely spell-bound. I’ve seen many that have queried why these people are not being paid to create that sort of material.

I’m not just being some sort of linguistic hippy when I say there’s a writer in every one of us. But I like words, wear sandles and have a long beard, so perhaps I am.

Time for a fleet overhaul. Again…

This week, I am mostly plotting how to get rid of some cars. To start with, the hopeless Mercedes needs to go. Not content with running badly and seemingly having an engine temperature sensor not fitted to any other Mercedes-Benz, it has now decided to start dumping engine coolant into its gearbox. “The W124 was the last properly built Merc,” everyone tells me. I reply that if you built a car properly, you wouldn’t engineer in a situation where the engine can destroy the gearbox by filling it with water.

Disappointment personified

The problem is the transmission oil cooler, which is built into the radiator. It’s a perfect reminder that I’m way out of my comfort zone. I don’t like cars that have sensors or that require transmission coolers. I suspect it’s going to find itself on Ebay, fetching some pitiful amount but at least it won’t cost me any more money.

I’m a bit disappointed with the Mercedes to be honest – partly because it’s not that good and partly because I seem to keep thinking that I’ll like a large, thirsty car. Only an Alfa Romeo 164 V6 has lived up to expectation, but I’m not sure I’d be happy with one of those here. Big cars just aren’t what you need for twisty, narrow Welsh lanes.

I’ve also decided to move the 2CV project on to another home. I’m pleased to have got it running, but that really is just the very beginning of what’s needed. I don’t really need two rotten 2CVs and having decided that there’s no way I can wave goodbye to Elly, my long-serving 2CV, I need to focus my efforts upon her. I suspect it’ll be rather easier for the 2CV to find a new home, though I’m very keen for it to find the right one – I won’t just be chucking it on Ebay and hoping for the best.

If I can shift both cars, then it’s very likely that I will seek something else to add to the fleet. A small hatchback would be nice – with a Skoda Favorit high on the wish list. Which means I’ll probably end up with a Leyland-Daf pick-up knowing what I’m like…

Rediscovering the 2CV magic

The 2CV had a blaze of activity in January, attending two events in the Abergavenny area, and ending up quite badly broken after both of them. First, the exhaust crossbox failed, then next time out the swan neck disintegrated. New parts were fitted and the 2cV then had very little use. In fact, the further it travelled for some time was when I took it to Hereford for some fettling.

It came back transformed and when the BX was ruled out as it’s not fixed yet, the 2cV was the only vehicle to take the Pride of Longbridge in Birmingham. That was a 210 mile round-trip and it was completed today without so much as a minor grumble – which is good as I didn’t take any tools. The weather was lovely to start with, turning to rain later in the day and reminding me that the leak situation is really not good. Fortunately I was wearing walking boots, so my feet didn’t get wet.

I can’t post any pics up of the event yet, in case it turns out that I can use said pictures to earn money. It would have been sensible to take some photos of the 2CV on its grand day out, but sensible didn’t happen.

You’ll have to make do with this photo, stolen from a friend, who happened to pass where I’d parked up in Longbridge earlier today.

2CV – just about (thanks Mark!)

Driving long distance in a 2CV can be a bit of a shock to the system. I reckon I nudged a genuine 70mph at one point on the M6 (near the M5 interchange – an astonishing result in any car!) which equates to 5000rpm. That creates a lot of engine and transmission noise but it’s nothing compared to the wind noise. The Ami felt almost silent by comparison. With folding, two-part side windows, a vent flap that doesn’t quite seem to fit below the windscreen, a hideously un-aerodynamic roof just above the windscreen and doors that flap above 60mph, it’s hardly serene.

It is comfortable though and, with a bit of thought, not too stressful – other idiots permitting. I got off quite lightly today. People can get rather upset when overtaken by a 2CV – presumably people with a problem in the trouser department. They either refuse to let you overtake by accelerating, or come flying past you moments later to try and prove to the world that trouser inadequacy isn’t a problem. As if people judge that by whether you let a rather feminine little car overtake you.

Mind you, I have been spoilt lately. The BX does a rather more gentle 2600rpm at motorway speeds, and wind noise is vastly quieter. I can actually listen to a stereo. I can keep it at 70mph no matter what nature hurls at me in terms of headwind and gradient too. I just put my foot down a bit more and allow the turbo to keep things moving.

Today was all about remembering that a 2CV is just as capable really. It may be a humble farmer’s wagon, but it’ll hurtle along motorways readily, and be surprisingly comfortable while it does it. I also had great fun taking some twistier roads on the way back. Few cars are such fun at entirely legal speeds.

It was proof that a properly sorted 2CV really is a marvellous thing.

The heroic snail returns

I very much enjoyed my week with a Citroen Ami, but while it was a lot of fun, the Ami was not my 2CV. Clambering back aboard my 1986 2CV6 Dolly made me realise just how special it is, and how much it means to me.

That’s good, because a bill for nearly £500 worth of work severely tested my loyalty! I usually spend that sort of amount to buy a car, rather than spend on it. It’s worth considering how much I’ve spent on the car in the past three years though. The total is pretty much sod all. Some paint, some oil filters, some spark plugs and oil. The most expensive expenditure in that time has been £100 for a new ignition barrel. I should have spent some more money on anti-corrosion products it seems, as the front bulkhead had corroded very badly indeed.

Once Pete Sparrow started digging, he uncovered this mess.

2CV bulkhead rod. Yuck!

The toeboard, lower bulkhead and the leading edge of the front floors needed cutting back to good metal, and then new metal welding in. At least it was a fairly simple area to repair, though even simple repairs eat up the hours. Including all tinkering, the bill stated 10 hours of work, which is a day and a half.

It all looks better now.

New sections

Pete’s work didn’t stop there though. Elly has been sounding quite sickly for a while, clearly feeling the effects of my amateur spanner monkeying! A really good specialist will transform how your car feels. That’s exactly what Pete did.

First of all, he sorted out the steering. I’ve had a wobbly kingpin on this car for some years now, causing all manner of clonks and causing two MOT testers to frown in that manner that suggests I’ll be lucky if I get an advisory. I was lucky twice, but clearly pushing things a bit. The arm was worn though, so that was replaced with one taken from a car used in the action movie RED2. I’m not looking forward to seeing the film as when you see a 2CV flying through the air, that’ll be using the suspension arm now on my car! A new kingpin means the clonk has gone, which immediately makes the car feel nicer to drive.

The next step was to check the ignition timing. Unsurprisingly, it was out. Surprisingly, it was quite badly retarded – I thought it was if anything towards being too advanced! Proves what I know – very little when it comes to ignition timing. As well as correcting that error, Pete rejetted the carburettor and cleared out muck from the float chamber. The result is a car which is utterly transformed, feeling much more responsive and sitting at 65mph without resorting to the secondary choke. This should allow increased fuel economy.

It’s been an expensive MOT pass, but it has one more proved that while DIY tinkering is ok, specialists know a great many tricks when it comes to making your car run as it should. I feel like a rank amateur, which is probably because I am. While I can now work on most aspects of the 2CV myself, it’s a reminder that sometimes it is worth paying someone who really knows what they are doing!

So thrilled was I on the journey back home and I pretty much forgot about the Ami. I think that fact suggests I’ll be sinking a whole lot more money into Elly the 2CV in the coming year. End of the road? No. after 191,000 miles, I don’t think I can let that happen yet.

Illuminating history

My time with the Citroën Ami is drawing to a close – hopefully. I should get my 2CV back on Wednesday, which means parting company with The Best Courtesy Car in the World.

It’s been very interesting, witnessing people and their struggle to work out what on earth it is. Only this morning, the postman stopped to walk right around the car as he tried to suss it out. Perhaps he thought it was an optical illusion. No, it really does look like that! It’s a car that is almost entirely unknown on these shores, yet over 1 million of them were sold just next door in France. A handful were sold in the UK, but despite the fact that over 100,000 people were convinced to buy the even-more ridiculous-looking Ford Consul Classic – which also had a breeze-back rear window – British buyers were not convinced by the Ami’s charms.

It’s astonishing really. After all, this is the first production car in the world to use rectangular headlamps. A couple of American cars had used rectangular headlamps in the 1930s, while Mercedes-Benz demonstrated it’s stacked headlamp design as early as 1957 – but all of these cars had circular reflectors for the headlamp unit. The Ami, thanks to the boffins at lamp manufacturer Cibie, actually had a rectangular lens. It was a triumph of technology which opened the floodgates for designers – though British and US markets stayed loyal to sealed-beam circular units for some years.

Not just odd but pioneering!

Perhaps the most extreme example of the rectangular headlamp was the Fiat 130 Coupe of 1971. Pininfarina stretched the enormous lamps almost the full width of the front end. That was fully ten years after the Ami. Use of a rectangular unit allowed the front end of the car to be lower, benefiting aerodynamics. Sadly, some European designs were horribly corrupted to meet US demands for sealed-beam units. The results were often not at all pretty at all.

Fiat 130 went to rectangular headlamp extremes

I’ve not had a chance to drive the Ami in the dark yet, so I can’t say whether rectangular headlamps improve or detract when it comes to illumination. Moving to a rectangular design was certainly a major step in vehicle design though, and while ironically, the Ami 6 would later move to twin-circular lamps, the replacement Ami 8 retained rectangular items, and then were even fitted to the Citroen 2CV for a time – oddly referred to often as square headlamps even though they are obviously not!

I shall miss the Ami when it returns, but I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to spend some time with it. I just hope my 2CV doesn’t feel too awful on the journey back home!

Project 2CV is alive and driving

Yes, the project 2CV is alive, and I even got to enjoy a little drive in it.

I actually had the 2CV running, briefly, yesterday. Hooking up a spare battery allowed me to confirm that the sparking was occuring and as no-one had been meddling with it, I assumed the ignition timing would at least be good enough to get it running. Getting the fan guard off to check the points was a bit of a nightmare. One bolt sheared and another just rounded – yet proved too tough to hammer a smaller socket on it. Ugh! In the end, I bent the guard out of the way. The fan off confirmed that there was a spark there, but really I should just have removed a spark plug, connected it up and started the engine as that confirmed the same thing! Oh well.

Could this be my new long-term 2CV?

I had tried pouring a little fuel in the carb before with no success. It just churned and churned. I tried again yesterday with the same result. At least I was getting the oil to circulate and proving that the starter worked! So I decided to beef up the voltage by connecting both a spare battery and my battery jump pack up. This had it spinning very merrily, and it caught almost straight away. Joy turned to panic as the revs rose, but turning the ignition off and back on stabilised the revs. I think perhaps I’d poured a little too much fuel into the carburettor. It soon conked out again, but I’d proved that it would run at least. It sounded like fuel starvation, so I started to swap the fuel pump with one off another engine. Then I noticed that petrol was leaking everywhere. Hmmm. This suggested that the pump WAS drawing fuel. I now had a problem. Gravity was draining the fuel. This got worse when I investigated how easy it would be to pull the rubber off the metal section down by the front chassis. The metal bit broke apart in my hand due to corrosion. Great. A hasty grab for a jerry can was followed by me pulling the pipe off the chassis clips (thankful it wasn’t cable tied!), then threading the leaky pipe under the driveshafts so I could get enough free play to raise the end higher than the tank. Phew! The car, the garage and myself were soaked in petrol, but at least no more was leaking out!

I decided to quit at this point, experimenting with various concoctions to try and remove the smell of petrol from my hands. My favourite hand cleaner was pretty effective – Ecover’s Heavy Duty Hand Cleaner. It’s just natural ingredients, has good grit content and works brilliantly. It still took a couple of washes to reduce the petrol smell.

Today, I sourced some replacement fuel line AND remembered to don latex gloves. After stupidly fitting the other fuel pump (which didn’t work) I eventually had the car running again.

I clambered aboard and gingerly lowered the clutch. I heard the scuff of the clutch plate freeing from the flywheel. Encouraging! Gear selection was no problem, so it was clearly fully releasing. I then eased the clutch up in reverse. Movement! Easing out of the garage was slightly alarming, as the brakes are understandably dreadful. They do work though! Sort of…

A few gentle runs up the driveway allowed the brakes to free off more. They’ll need a full rebuild but it will be easier to move the car now. And that’s that. Project 2CV is alive. This is especially pleasing as I’ve decided that this car will be my long-term 2cV going forward. Probably. My poor Red and White Dolly is not likely to have very long left in it. Hopefully I can put my painfully learnt lessons into action and keep the green one solid. Once the rot has been replaced…

The Ami Experience

Day two and the Ami is still making me giggle. Even just having it parked on the driveway is a pleasure.

Not as much of a pleasure as driving it though. Thanks to some choice modifications, including a Weber carburettor and gas-flowed cylinder heads, it’s ludicrously quick for a 602cc 4-seater built in 1965. At tickover, the exhaust sounds like it’s blowing badly, but give it the beans and it sounds insane! Acceleration is a bit of a shock to a 2CV owner too. This thing can actually shift.

It is unusual hearing that 2CV soundtrack in something which looks like a proper car – albeit one that looks most unlike any other proper car. But it is a little saloon, with proper doors, rather more comfort and a solid roof – one made out of plastic just to add to the quirky features. It feels like you sit much lower down than a 2CV, but I’m not sure that you actually do. The gearshift is a bit more of a stretch away, and not just because this car is left-hand drive. The cabin is wider than a 2CV, which means you seem to sit further away from the middle of the car – and therefore the gearchange. I’m sure there’s a gnat’s wing in it, but it does feel much wider.

Impress the chicks with an Ami

It’s quieter too. Sure, that exhaust is barking like an over-excited terrier, but wind noise is vastly reduced compared to a 2CV. With this punchy engine, an indicated 70mph is both relatively quiet and requires surprisingly little throttle. It’s quite unusual to be able to travel that quickly and still have power in reserve.

The seats seem to be even softer, closer to the feel of a DS – with that car also providing inspiration for the single-spoke steering wheel. The car bounces, and you bounce too, like the driver of one of those posh trucks where the seat and even the cab are separately sprung from the road wheels.

Not that the soft springing seems to bother the handling. The large wheel can induce comedy levels of lean, though the slightly lower stance of this one means it seems to corner with a little less drama. Fat 145 Continental tyres help too.

One intricate and quirky feature is the indicator stalk. Toggle indicators seem like a modern invention designed just to confuse people. Yet again, Citroën got there first! On the Ami, you flick the lever the way you want to indicate. It then returns to its normal position but the indicators flash. You have to pull the lever towards you to cancel it! Sounds absolutely ridiculous, but works well in practice, and at least the stalk doesn’t fall off in your hand like it can in a 2CV…

If all this makes it sound like I prefer the Ami to a 2CV, then you might just be right. I’m a bit shocked. Cars I’ve always wanted to drive can often be a bit disappointing in the metal. Not this one! The only problem is that I must force myself to remember that not all Amis drive quite as well (or as quickly!) as this one…

End of the road for an old friend?

Today has been a day of highs and lows, both emotionally and actually!

The day started with a horribly early alarm. My destination was 2CV specialist Pete Sparrow in Hereford – about 70 miles away. The reason? Well, Elly has had some play in her offside kingpin for ooh, about two years now. It was time to get it sorted. This is much easier for a specialist with lots of fancy tools.

Things didn’t start well. I hadn’t even travelled a mile before I had problems selecting gears. The selector was spinning around on top of the gearbox. Ugh! I bravely battled on for another couple of miles but had to admit defeat, stopping at a friend’s house to borrow some tools. The fix took no time to apply and I was soon on my way, treated to sights like this.

Elly and some epic Elan Valley views

It was quite treacherous though, with several icy sections that needed careful navigation. In places, the cleared drifts were taller than the car. Once through the Elan Valley, things were rather less snowy and I could maintain a good pace. Even with my unscheduled stop, I was still pretty much on time.

It was soon confirmed that both kingpin and suspension arm were worn. Replacement of the entire arm was the best cure, but I was disappointed as I have made serious efforts to improve the greasing schedule. Clearly I still need to be better! Then we found a show-stopper.

Oh bother! Crusty floor

Mr MOT man was sure to have his doubt about this ‘ventilation hole.’ I knew the floor had some rot in it, but this was far worse than I’d reckoned on. Note also that the sills, outrigger, shock absorber and even the bolts on the suspension arm (and the arm itself) are rusty. Last year really has taken its toll on the 2CV, though I share some responsibility. I really need to up my game when it comes to anti-corrosion protection too. Bother.

That meant that a new plan was needed. The MOT runs out on the 15th April, today being the 3rd. There was little point taking Elly home with such major work needed. The decision was made for me to go home in a borrowed car, while Elly was fettled sufficiently to pass another MOT.

Now for a massive high. The car I got to drive home in? A Citroen Ami 6 berline! I’m very lucky. In my job as a classic car journalist, I have driven some incredible cars, including a Jaguar XJ6 that once belonged to Sir William Lyons the Jaguar founder, two Citroen SMs (always a pleasure), Bentley Turbos, a 440bhp Lola T70 replica and a 1930s Rolls-Royce 20/25. Dream cars for sure, but the Ami 6 is on another planet. I’ve long wished to own one but apart from driving one very low example around a very bumpy field, I’d somehow never had the pleasure. Today was the day that it all changed. I was going to meet my hero.

Citroen Ami 6. Beautiful and ugly at the same time

Isn’t it just fabulous? I adore its utterly bonkers look, and so did many French people. For a time during the 1960s, this was the best-selling car in France, eclipsing the 2CV on which it was based. This one has a fair few engine tweaks, and boasts a later disc-brake gearbox, but that does little to detract from the character of this little saloon.

The driving experience is one I’ll get around to describing another time, but let’s just say that I’ve rarely grinned so much in my life. The 70 miles home just weren’t enough really. I don’t want to give it back!

This jubilation was sadly short-lived as the Ami’s owner had bad news for me. My 2CV was in very poor condition and in his view was simply not worth restoring. To do so, would be a nightmare due to all the repair (and bodgery) work that has taken place over the years. My neglect really had brought me to a very difficult decision. She’ll get through another MOT – hopefully – but it seems that Elly faces a very bleak future. After 13 years and more than 100,000 miles together, I don’t really want to say goodbye, but I might just have to.

The decision remains what to do about the 2CV restoration project. As the bodyshell has had far less repair work, it might be far better to restore that instead. As for what happens to Elly’s running gear, who knows. The next year is going to be filled with some very tough decisions.

Could it be the end for Elly the Dolly?

Road trippin’ in the Red BX

I enjoy driving, which is perhaps the most unsurprising statement with which to start a Blog post written by me. I enjoy driving long distance too, and I was itching for a long distance drive. After all, I’m planning to tour Scotland this summer in a car I only bought a couple of weeks ago. It needed a proving run.

So, I pondered where to go and it didn’t take long to realise that visiting my bestest and longest serving friend would be just about perfect. She lives 300 miles away on the opposite side of the UK – Ramsgate. From our house, that’s about 330 miles. Perfect!

For some reason, my wife didn’t fancy the seven hours each way of sitting in a passenger seat staring at motorways. It would be a solo mission. I carried out the necessary pre-flight checks (which mainly involved fitting some enormous rear speakers, though I did also check the fluid levels) and on Saturday morning, I hit the road.

The downside to living somewhere so beautifully remote is that it is beautifully remote. Therefore, the first hour and a half of my mammoth drive was spent getting to Telford, where some motorway happens at last. I shouldn’t complain – traffic levels were quite light, with few trucks about, so I was making good time. The approach to Birmingham was quite surprising though. It went down to 50mph, but no slower. Brilliant!

On I sailed, trying but failing to keep the speed down to an indicated 70mph. The car just felt happier at 80mph, which translates into an actual speed of about 72mph. At one point, I let it get up to an indicated 85mph, at which point the ABS warning light came on. Brilliant. I’ve got a car that likes to tell me when I’ve been naughty.

I pushed on down the M1, but called a very necessary halt for lunch at Newport Pagnell. This cost £7. Ouch. I also filled the car up with fuel. Or rather, having seen that diesel was 155.9p per litre, I sloshed enough in to get me to Kent and no more! Eventually, after what felt like many hours – because it was – I reached Margate, where my friend was working. Here’s an actual picture of the heroic machine.

My trusty steed on the mean streets of Margate

Apart from the ABS light, there had been no drama at all on the journey down. The BX just sailed on and on, sipping fuel and producing hilarious amounts of exhaust smoke when I booted it. Which was often. That’s not to say the car didn’t have faults – there’s something amiss with the suspension, which makes it feel floaty on one side, but not the other. It’s a bit odd. There is also a very worn balljoint which will very soon be replaced, and a slightly worn inner track rod end on the other side. That means the steering lacks precision and it rides bumps with all the grace of a wheelbarrow full of crockery.

The next day, I discovered it was using a fair bit of oil too – hardly surprising as there is a pretty good oil leak down the back of the engine somewhere, as discovered last week. Still, at least it confirmed that the clever electronic oil level display on the dashboard is accurate!

The next day also involved a rather late night. We didn’t get in until 3am, and the BX found itself like many of its siblings once upon a time – on taxi duty. At this point, I’d like to point out that I don’t drink alcohol very often at all. My last alcoholic beverage was consumed on 22 May last year.

That meant that my plan to leave for home early on Monday morning was somewhat thwarted. I eventually managed to get myself on the road before 11am and prepared for another huge slog at the wheel. Again, it was plain sailing really. Not too much traffic, some idiots on the M1 but nowt I couldn’t handle and the miles were soon building up. I stopped for lunch after 127 miles – this time near Luton – then just kept driving, taking the M6 Toll and only stopping for roundabouts and traffic lights. I got back home at about 5pm. That’s a pretty good run.

I was very pleased with the journey. I had a horrible fear that choosing a Bank Holiday weekend would see me stuck in nose-to-tail traffic, but that didn’t happen once – which is good because the cooling fan is on a manual switch and I was terrified I’d forget that fact. The motorway driving wasn’t too stressful, despite the best efforts of others and I do find real therapy in doing nothing more than piloting a car for hour after hour. It can still be enjoyable, even in this increasingly-crowded land.

The car coped absolutely fine, clocking up its 306,000th mile on the way there. Yes, there are things that need doing and yes, I need to really crack on with them. After all, it looks like we’ll be heading to the south east again before too long!

HubNut – celebrating the average!