Wed, 15 Oct 1997

"We're almost there"

This roller-coaster of a saga is gathering pace - it's unbeatable!

"We'll call when the car is ready" said the seatbelt people "should be about 2 o'clock". Of course we believed them - wouldn't you? At 3pm we called them - "Yes, it's been ready for ages" - DOH!

I dropped everything at work and rushed back to pick up John just in time to hit the evening rush hour heading south on the motorway - it was also peeing down with rain - "Have they left it outside?" "I hope they didn't put it in 'park' (the pawl sticks) and "will there be welding burns in the leather?"

We arrived to find her outside ticking over sweetly and looking a million dollars in amongst a host of nipponese GTIs SGXs and 'super' saloons. Of course you would never miss a VII VIII or XI in a crowd - they stand out head and shoulders!

The belts have been fitted very neatly and there are no burns anywhere. Sighs of relief. The cigar lighter mounts are still hanging loose - we didn't want some hot rod jockey carving 3" holes in our veneers. The kind chap (the one with the spots and boils on his neck) gives us the certificate and the bill. We get up off the floor and reach for the bank manager's pen...

The belts are plain old statics in charcoal grey - 'green' obviously isn't in the manufacturer's vocabulary! we decided against inertia reels 'cos they would rub constantly against the woodwork on the pillar caps. A centre lap has also been fitted for the bench seat. We didn't go for rear belts - a simple matter of $$$$.

The windlace has fitted back on the pillar flange neatly so all we have to do is carefully drill out the cigar lighter mount and adjust the two clips to take account of the extra 2mm plate now welded in. That's all? - we don't have any spare veneer! it has got be right first time...

By now it is hosing down and the traffic is thicker than Grandma's home made chocolate cake...

The seat belt makes me feel much more confident - at least I don't slide around on the acres of green leather... Off we go, wipers clacking away and a film of condensation rapidly building up on every square inch of glass. I had forgotten what these things were like in the winter - feeble demister fans and the need to carry a chamois leather in the glove box (ha! did I mention gloves somewhere else?). The wiper switch has been placed with geometric precision on the dash to not spoil the layout look. It is therefore precisely in the wrong position for easy ergonomic use. I avoid putting my arm through the steering wheel spokes just in case I have to swerve to avoid that concrete truck in the outside lane (it is soooo close!)

We then hit more traffic and we have to crawl along dodging the loonies cutting across three lanes trying to gain a car's length in the queue. I have not a great deal of vision around me - the back window is steamed up, the wing mirror mounts have lost their grip and the nearside wing mirror is strategically hidden behind the rear view mirror! We continue to crawl. The engine hiccups - terror!! not now, please!, not now! - she settles again and we burble. Phew! wipes sweat from brow... The engine temp has stayed steady at 70deg so far but now creeps upward as we sit steaming in the queue. I turn on the fan - a quiet but insistent rumble echoes from behind the fire wall. I try "high" speed on the fan. Thunderbirds are go! - the rumble gradually climbs up the scale to a mere roar - one would expect a Force 10 hurricane to be blasting from the demister vents - but no - a gentle waft of warm air trickles out, barely kissing the windscreen. A triumph of British engineering? - hah! (an hour later and the left side of the windscreen shows a definite sign of a clear spot about the size of a gnat's dick). The fan noise is disturbing the local nursing home residents so I twiddle the knob back to the 'near gale' setting.

The water temperature never went above 80deg so I am reassured all is well in the water department and when the road clears I can squeeze the pedal down toward the floor - the exhaust note flares up and we're off again - motoring as it should be!

A brief but exciting interlude in the last mile before home - a short steep hill with a passing lane. I cannot resist it - risking life and limb, I reckon there is no-one in a Ferrari hurtling up the outside lane behind me - - I flick the intermediate speed hold switch and WE ARE OFF! - a surge of power and we fly past... the concrete truck and... a dustcart. We hit 3,500 rpm and she is just singing - wonderful - joyous! a deft flick on the hold switch and she kicks in to Warp Factor 10 - superb. I forgive you, Bill, for the wiper switch and the lousy ventilation system...

She gets a wipe down with the chamois leather and we gently close the garage door. "Good night"

Channel IX

Saloons

MK VII-IX