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‘From red dwarf to supernova’

#### James takes a break from the old routine to join our friends in the north

Explaining the less glamorous side of motoring journalism is really quite futile. The endless hours in front of a computer screen each month – researching, planning, scheduling and, unseen to colleagues or the outside world, filling in gaps and mopping up critical little tasks so essential to the magazine – is irrelevant. Just when we’re ready to begin the more satisfying process of writing, we’re dragged into dreary meetings (albeit necessary) about software updates and workflows. And you would be forgiven for not being in the least bit interested in any of that… because we’re certainly not!

We are, however, happy to be chained to the desk for 95 percent of the month if it means that we get to spend the other five percent standing on a blustery hilltop with fellow car enthusiasts about to hit the road for a day in the countryside. Sliding into the cockpit and turning the key – the joyful cacophony of everyone’s engine simultaneously bursting into life. A rumbling Stag, the fizz from an XR3i tailpipe and the mad jangling sound of a Fiat 500, forming a uniquely harmonious soundtrack? That’s what we’re talking about here. And today is one of those days. I’ve escaped the office, I’m in the north of England and we’re off for a drive.

Usually, when the PC team hits the road, we take the form of a somewhat disorganised ramble of twits with a vague plan. Indeed, you’ll be reading about that very type of road trip in next month’s edition of Practical Classics, when the team heads for Cornwall on our annual winter road trip. But today, here in Cumbria, we’re in the hands of Paul Bonsall for what is a much more coordinated kind of adventure. He is one of many enthusiasts in the UK who specialises in providing a service to we classic car owners – a well-structured, worry-free ride out to beautiful places among England’s rolling hills around his pub, the Fat Lamb Country Inn. Did I say pub? Yes, I did. Which means – at least this time of year – an open fire, ale and an extremely comfortable bed for the night.

We’ve visited the Fat Lamb many times but, on this occasion, I’ve decided to join Paul on one of his famous organised tours of the area and he has indeed promised me an ale and seat beside that fire afterwards. There’s an extra treat in store midway through the journey, which is a visit to Bolton Steam Museum. I’m no steam buff, admittedly, but I grew up completely captivated by one Frederick Travis Dibnah – the Bolton-born engineering genius, steeplejack and TV star – although in his own more humble words, and with finely-tuned Lancashire accent: ‘I'm just a backstreet mechanic, really’. The museum celebrates an industry which, at its peak, saw Lancashire producing more than half of the world’s cotton. Fred’s hometown alone had 120 working cotton mills so, for the very first time in my life, I’ll get a chance to get a taste for the things that drove Fred’s unwavering and infectious enthusiasm.

We assemble in the car park of the Fat Lamb, among cars of all shapes and sizes. My own transport for the day lurks in the background. I’ve borrowed Craig Cheetham’s second-generation Mondeo to see how it shapes up a quarter of a century after it was launched. It was also a very comfortable way of getting to Cumbria from PC HQ in Cambridgeshire, but I’m too ashamed to mention this to Steve Ormerod, who has arrived in his ’66 Austin-Healey 3000… roof down. ‘It’s all about wearing the right clothing!’ He’s fearless, having driven the car to all four corners of the nation, and across the Channel on more than one occasion. Thankfully, I’m not alone in feeling a little guilty about having a roof and a fierce heater. Finn Morriss has driven over from Kendal in his 1993 Volvo 245, which predictably serves as his daily driver, while Dougie Wilson has come down from Dunfermline in his late-Nineties Bentley Turbo R. ‘She’s big, but she’s still good enough for these country roads! And the heating is great!’

Having provided menu instructions to his excellent chef at the pub, Paul takes the lead in his 1998 Jaguar XJ8 and is followed closely by David Nugent in a stunning 1974 XJ12. He’s driven here from Surrey but isn’t expecting the economy to improve, reckoning ‘between 9 and 12mpg will be satisfactory’. I suggest ‘diabolical’ is a better description but, there you go. Paul had warned me you get all sorts turning up at these events – in David’s case, he simply wanted to get out of crowded southeast England ‘and to hell with the fuel economy!’

With grins behind every wheel, the convoy heads through the Yorkshire Dales National Park under bright wintry sunshine, past the majestic Ribblehead Viaduct, then wiggles southwest into one of Britain’s best kept secrets. The Forest of Bowland sits mostly in Lancashire, trickling into a small part of North Yorkshire, and despite its name, is mostly heather and blanket bog. Ah yes… and an outstanding network of dreamy roads scattered across this vast moorland.

I wince every time I see Steve Goddard’s cherished Triumph GT6 splosh through a muddy puddle and tell him so as we pull into a layby south of Bentham. He bought the car new from a Leicestershire main dealer in 1973 and after a serving for a while as a daily driver for his young family, he and his wife have taken the car all over Europe. ‘It’s fine! I’ve driven it in worse conditions than this! It has survived this long – and without the need for any welding!’ I glance at my own transportation, remembering just how bad Ford’s rustproofing was in the late Nineties.

Thankfully the second-generation Mondeo was a little better at resisting corrosion than its predecessor, but it did retain Richard Parry-Jones’s brilliant chassis. That means Ford’s characteristic sharpness and, while not the hottest ST version, this 2.5-litre V6 ‘Zetec S’ zings along with a pleasingly grunting soundtrack. It’s an estate, too – my favourite incarnation. Something about a fast estate, isn’t there?

That said, the Forest of Bowland is MX-5 country. All three of the examples here are perfectly proportioned for the narrow, lumpy roads and tight bends, each providing flawless, unequalled joy to their pilots. All with the added benefit of refinements such as a heater and a roof that doesn’t flap about or leak. It really was a classic straight out of the box – while so many car makers abandon the segment, long may it reign supreme. Alan Cooper says of his 2015 model that he’ll never sell. ‘The day I let it go is the day I can’t get into it!’ We arrive at Bolton Steam Museum to be greeted by a group of volunteers who enthusiastically show us around the array of beautifully preserved machines. They are truly enormous – 150 tonne monsters with flywheels 30 feet in diameter. It’s hard not to stand there and appreciate their importance in the nation’s extraordinary industrial history and we’re thankful to those who continue to celebrate it.

As for Fred Dibnah, his own place in the region’s history is just as assured. Those of a certain age will recall how a 1978 debut on a BBC news report (he was repairing Bolton Town Hall) captivated audiences. Viewers loved watching him scaling and demolishing the very chimneys built to serve a 19th century boomtown that put Bolton at the centre of the industrial revolution. Fred died in 2004 at the unspeakably young age of 66 and is remembered with a bronze statue in the town.

Having said a warm thank you to our hosts at the museum, we head out of town and we’re soon scaling the Trough of Bowland, a high pass that leads us to the Jubilee Tower and a blockbuster sight. The sun has begun its late afternoon tumble, and we get unbroken views to a sparkling Irish sea. Straight ahead of us, the Isle of Man peeps above the horizon, while to the northwest we can see the peaks of the southern Lake District and to the far southwest, the mountains of Snowdonia. Closer, and silhouetted in the low sun, is the Blackpool skyline – Tower clearly visible. Winter sun lighting up the grins of those standing beside me, it’s a moment that marks the closing stages of a journey to places none of us have seen before, on roads we didn’t know existed.

That night we tuck into a superb homecooked meal, after which Paul and I host a quiz. Later, as everyone heads for the bar, I wander outside into the dark and pad through a light dusting of snow to look at the cars, admiring the perfect neatness of the MG TF and the Scimitar’s uniquely handsome shape. Clutching my beer, I turn back and look through the window at the owners, who are by now enjoying a pint around the fire, and I smile contentedly, reminded that outside of the unavoidable daily routine, there is a place for us all to escape. This is ours – and it’s yours, too.

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Northern lights

#### There's never been a better time to buy Fiat’s brilliant little sports car

Despite being the first mid-engined car to be built in significant numbers, the X1/9 failed to shake the foundations of the UK market, where buyers were still wedded to the idea of low-tech, front engined British sport cars. For that reason, there aren’t too many examples of the little Fiat to go round.

Survivors are highly likely to have been cherished, so you should be able to drop into that little cockpit and set course for the nearest set of bends without too much concern. But if you’re on a strict budget you’ll want to make the most of it – and give yourself the best chance of it remaining affordable.

Early cars carry a premium, but beware of bodgery by somebody aiming to earn a quick buck. £1250 might get you a project car but be wary of examples needing masses of corrosion repairs. Spend around £3500 and you’ll get a runner in need of a little work. According to recent auction results, trouble-free cars are now fetching around £5000 with the very best of the best up to around ten grand – a 14,000 miler sold at CCA in September for almost £13,000.

Back in February 1973, our sister publication _CAR_ magazine courageously declared the X1/9 to be ‘the most significant sports car of our time’. It reckoned the ‘Spridget-cum-Spitfire type of vehicle would be dead by the second half of the Seventies’ and that a lucrative new market would exist for something more sophisticated and sporty. While it suggested the X1/9 was ‘the kind of car that a chap who owns a Mercedes 350SL might buy his wife as a present’, it was also clear the X1/9 had a lot more going for it for the keen driver – be they male or female.

The X1/9 was launched in Italy in 1972, but didn’t arrive in the UK in right-hand drive form until 1977. The MkI can be distinguished by a shallower engine compartment lid. The first cars sold were powered by a 73bhp 1.3-litre overhead-cam four-cylinder engine designed by Ferrari engineer Aurelio Lampredi, similar to that used in the 128 Coupé. Despite four gears and low power, these early examples are the most valuable. From 1979 the X1/9 was fitted with the longer-stroke 85bhp 1.5-litre from the Ritmo/

Strada, in conjunction with a five-speed transaxle with higher overall gearing. Bertone took over production in 1982 and introduced various revisions, including electric windows, alloy wheels, tweaked floorpans, bodywork and bumpers and two-tone paint. Black mouldings and bumpers were added in 1987 and the last-of-the-line Gran Finale model, with Alcantara trim, spoiler and metallic paint, went on sale in 1989. Production ended in 1990 with a total of 163,750 made.

Thankfully, most of the basket cases are long gone but you will, as you'd expect, need to inspect your prospective purchase very carefully as there are plenty of rot traps. Given how poor the factory-applied rustproofing was, you’ll want to check every panel and every crevice. Having panels repaired will often be a better option than trying to replace them, because some repair panels are known to be ill-fitting. The front and rear wing bottoms, sills, door bottoms and wheelarches are the first areas to go, along with the front and rear valances. Also check the engine and luggage compartment lids plus the nose panels, the inner wings and the triple-layered front suspension turrets. The windscreen surround needs careful inspection – rust is common here and fixing it properly can be a time-consuming DIY job (around £1000+ at a specialist), because it requires removal of the interior and windscreen.

Despite its location, the engine is easier to access for servicing than you’d think. That said, join the club for all the tips and tricks. For instance, fellow members will already know how awkward setting the valve clearances is, because it’s done with shims! All X1/9 engines have a cambelt that should be replaced every four years or around 30,000 miles. Oil leaks from between the camshaft carrier and cylinder head are common, and cylinder head gasket failures are far from unusual. An erratic tickover will be a clue.

The X1/9's engine needs a lot of cooling, given its location in the car. There’s a thermostatically controlled electric fan; the nose-mounted radiator corrodes internally, and the outside gets covered in debris. The alloy cylinder head can also corrode internally if anti-freeze levels aren’t maintained, plus the steel pipes that run from the radiator to the engine can corrode inside and out. It doesn’t help that the coolant pipes that run the length of the car do so within a welded-up box section, so they’re not accessible.

The X1/9’s manual gearbox was taken from first the 128 and then the Strada/Ritmo. This means that 1.3-litre cars have four ratios while 1500s have an extra cog. The four-speed gearbox tends to last extremely well, but the five-speed unit is much less robust. Look out for particularly poor synchromesh on second and third. Spare parts are currently hard to come by, but it isn’t a complicated item, so a rebuild won’t be difficult for the experienced – or it’ll be £300 to sort via a specialist. Watch for split CV joint covers and listen for knocks that signify the joint needs to be replaced. Also, the cap-headed bolts that secure the shafts to their flanges can work loose. It’ll be obvious something is amiss from the noises coming from the rear as drive is taken up.

The rack-and-pinion steering gives no problems apart from the possibility of damaged rack gaiters. Tired front suspension ball joints are easily and cheaply replaced but those at the rear are costly to renew because they’re integral with the lower wishbone. Even used wishbones are £150 apiece; new ones are at least double this. If there are any issues in this department, they’ll be given away by rear-wheel steering and a knock from the back of the car. X1/9s originally sold in the UK were fitted with alloy wheels, and there were at least half a dozen different designs. The running gear is generally tough and very reliable, as with other Fiat models of this era. Brake calipers can seize though, along with handbrake cables on sparingly used cars. There’s no servo to go wrong and assistance isn’t needed either, the all-disc system being up to the job with excess pedal effort. Mind you, the handbrake clips on the rear calipers often seize up so that's something to look out for..

This is a 1970s car and therefore worn interior trim and brittle plastics is a way of life. Split seat trim is a common issue for the X1/9 owner – especially on the driver’s side. The seat material on early 1300 cars isn’t very hard wearing at all, the vinyl on early 1500 models can crack badly, while the later cars got tougher cloth and good quality black and red leather. The Alcantara of the Gran Finale doesn’t wear at all well, so check that carefully. On the upside, the seats can be removed and dismantled easily, which helps when it comes to keeping the cost of refurbishment down.

You should find most electrical issues have been solved on cars in good order but you may still find your headlight relays and diodes failing. The same goes for the electric window switches – and if they have manually wound windows instead, the operating cables can break. The start point for fixing these things is, as you'd expect, inspection of the fusebox, which is located in the passenger footwell. Another weak spot can be the alternator; some cars got a poor-quality Marelli item while others got a Bosch unit. Before spending any time or money on a new item, first check the security of the earthing strap on the front bulkhead yourself; it often works loose or corrodes, and reattaching or replacing it is an easy fix.

Low-quality interior trim guarantees a challenge or two, so carefully inspect the whole cabin before you buy. Seats come out easily though, making a retrim easier.

The engine is easier to access for servicing than you might imagine but its location means it’s susceptible to overheating if the cooling system isn’t kept in tip-top condition.

Replacement panels dried up long ago, so you need to be on the lookout for signs of bodged repairs or rust that’s likely to be a pain to fix.

Fiat X1/9 1972-1989

#### Magic happened when Phil Smith and best pal Ray Preston joined forces…

**WORDS** JAMES WALSHE **PICTURES** MATT RICHARDSON

A humble chap, is our Phil. ‘I’ve been trying to work out if I have any skills.’ Standing beside his Triumph in the garage he built himself, he begins our day together deflecting much of the praise towards his best mate, Ray Preston. ‘Ray is a proper car restorer. He does everything. I just make the tea’. Ray chips in to confirm this, but with a wink. ‘He’s very good at fetching spanners’. Truth is, they’re both fibbing.

Phil was no mere casual observer in the revival of what began as an extremely rotten workhorse. He and fellow 2000 Register member in Kent, Charles Harrison, saved the car in 2016 and managed to get it back on the road for use as a daily driver, Phil ragging it around motorsport events such as the Blackpalfrey Motor Club’s Hughes Rally. ‘As time went by, I had the feeling the corrosion underneath was serious enough for me to take it off the road for good.’ With help from another mate, experienced bodywork guru Ray, they decided to investigate and… ‘Well, we got a bit of a shock!’ says Phil. Underneath the Triumph’s French Blue paintwork lay some genuine horror. ‘The sills were in such poor condition, it was clear the fragile old thing wouldn’t survive being jacked up in order to fit it to the rotisserie’.

It soon dawned on him that doing the work alone was unthinkable. ‘It felt just too daunting, which is where your mates come into it. Ray assured me it could be fixed and we made the decision to work together.’ However, before they could start, Phil needed to make some modifications to his house. He designed and built himself a covered area on the end of the building, where he and Ray could work on the Triumph irrespective of poor weather. Later, irritated by the cold wintry breezes rushing through the area, Phil added a wall and some doors. ‘It meant working without freezing our bums off was now possible.’

As work commenced, the decision was made to replace the sills with the car still on the ground, so with steel bars welded between the doors the inner, middle and outer sills were cut out with the angle grinder. Phil says the fitment of the bars improved things no end. ‘It was considerably stronger than before, and a trial fit of the doors confirmed everything was where it should be.’

Engine and gearbox removed, along with the interior, Phil and Ray lifted the body onto the rotisserie. ‘The quality of this one was great and with the hydraulic rams easy to get the car high enough to work on’. Ray chips in. ‘I’ve had replacement knees and have back problems, so not having to lie on the ground was handy!’ The stripping of the body continued and bit by bit, the car began to disappear before Phil’s eyes. ‘As I hacked away at the sills, it got worse,' he explains. 'Any vibration would result in another great big pile of rust forming on the floor!’

Working as a team, Phil and Ray stripped the car, fabricated, welded and lead loaded –from the wings and to the rotten sills and boot floor.

As the weather cooled, Phil became more aware of the exposed part of his home-built work area, so he began building a wall that would seal this area from those wintry drafts!

The windscreen surround was rotten. After much cutting, hammering and welding the holes were filled with lead and readied for finishing.

Ray’s skills with lead meant filler could be mostly avoided but a thin skim was applied for a good finish. Phil’s mission was to keep the dust out of the house!

After delays and injury, the previously smoky engine was rebuilt. The pair found evidence of mildly worn bearings top and bottom, while measuring the bores revealed piston wear.

Phil admits that he’s no bodywork expert. ‘Some of the welding was complex and beyond anything I’d be capable of, so that’s where friendship really counts! I concentrated on stripping, cleaning, de-rusting, sanding and stripping the paintwork while Ray worked his magic on those tricker areas of bodywork. It made sense – there’s no point in going to all this effort and not making it the best it can be.’ Sipping on his tea, an ever-humble Ray shrugs. ‘As with anything, you must work to the best of your strengths’. In a previous life, Ray worked for the former British Leyland dealer Martin-Walter in Kent – a company that established itself in 1773 by making harnesses and (much) later building bespoke car bodies.

‘I started there at the age of 16, working as a panel beater and coach builder in the body shop and learned skills suitable for repairing Jaguars, Armstrong Siddeley, Roll-Royces and Bentleys.

I think Phil reckoned lead loading the Triumph would be a piece of cake. It wasn’t!’

With Ray lead loading on one side of the car and Phil stripping the paint on the other, Phil says they continually came up against obstacles. ‘For instance, a significant dent appeared through layers of filler as I removed the paint, while spiders of rust and holes appeared all over the place.’ He had become very well acquainted with repair panels from Lloyd Reed at South Wales Triumphs, with items arriving as funds permitted. ‘Without Lloyd it feels like we’d have been here for years!’

When the pair got to the nearside front wheelarch, they found a fair bit of work was needed to replace the inner bowl, the front section ahead of the arch and the bottom of the wing. Removal would be necessary anyway in order to fit the sills and wheelarch – the latter of which had been cut from a scrap car years ago and kindly provided by aforementioned friend Charles. ‘Making sure all these four sections all came together properly involved a load of trial fitting, tack welding and jiggling before we were happy’.

Another parcel from Lloyd meant they could now set to work on sorting the rear wheelarch, while the boot floor got the attention it needed. ‘Rather than weld in loads of little patches, we decided to cut a large section out and replace with one larger piece of metal. Again, much cutting, bending and hammering was required!’

By now, the pair were into the swing of things. Phil says the condition of the windscreen surround was, predictably, poor. After much cutting bending hammering and welding the holes were filled, lead added and reshaped ready for finishing, the chaps now ready for the next stage, which was to add the primer and seam sealer.

That was until Ray, on his way to celebrate his own 70th birthday, slipped over and broke his hip.

As Ray’s injuries healed, Phil got started with the dull job of rubbing down the car’s body to get a satisfactory surface. He then had a crack at the cabin. ‘My father was into woodwork, so I learned a lot from him. I stripped and veneered all the Triumph’s wood and was happy with the result. I couldn’t wait to see it on the car!’ One of the highlights for Phil came after a two-week holiday with his wife Clare. ‘We came back to find Ray and his son Adam had painted the car. I was speechless – it looked fantastic!’

Phil and Ray then rebuilt the doors and refitted the glass new rubbers and seals, along with exterior trim and lights. Underneath, with the cleaned and painted suspension components refitted – the brakes followed with new pipes all round and rebuilt calipers – it was time to sort the engine. Having stripped it and replaced the bearings and pistons, the valves were removed, cleaned up and reground to the head. ‘Examining the radiator we found it to be badly corroded, so a trip to Regal Rads in Maidstone was needed. While we waited for the rad, we worked on the heater, fitting a new valve.’ Talking of interior comfort, Phil rewired areas of the car including the stereo, while the carpets were refitted, along with new boot boards and headlining – the latter of which was a particularly awkward job. ‘The headlining was such a fiddle – it took a lot of persuasion and swearing.’

‘Two hugely contrasting restos this issue. The team effort on the Leyland bus is a true labour of love and one shared by volunteers. All credit to them. And this Triumph… well, what a job, considering the state it was in. ’

When the time came to fire up the engine, Phil was dismayed to find the clutch was solid. ‘There was much worrying that we hadn’t fitted the clutch correctly; we didn’t want to have to remove the gearbox at this point. However, we were relieved to find the slave cylinder had seized, so a replacement was duly fitted.’ Take two!

Phil says the time hd come at last... ‘One day, we looked at each other and agreed there was nothing more to do. A careful drive around the block to check for further niggles went so well, we drove a bit further and put some petrol in the tank for a trip to a breakfast meet in Dungeness.’

However, Phil admits that ten minutes into the first big trip, to a 2000 Register event to Norfolk, the diff went bang. 'They're never truly finished, are they?' Phil says he’ll get around to sorting the rest out soon enough. ‘The bumpers are tatty, the seats are worn and the clock doesn’t work. Replacing these pushed the restoration beyond what I could budget for, so they will have to wait. The fact it isn’t completely immaculate means I can use it and enjoy it. I mean, given the terrible rust, in hindsight we probably wouldn’t have even started it, so it’s a miracle it’s here at all!’

Friends united

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#### **ME AND MY RESTO**: **Alistair Clyne** revived his futuristic kit car after 25 years in storage

**WORDS** MATTHEW MACCONNELL **PICTURES** JAMES WALSHE

**I** recall reading about the Automotive Design and Development (ADD) Nova in kit car magazines and, as a teenager, saw one for the first time at a local car show. It’s Beetle-based but I loved its unique design and finally, at the age of 27, I bought my own. The car had been built in 1983 but by the time I got it three years later, the red gel coat had faded to a pale brown.

I hadn’t the money for a respray so I began doing other jobs like redesigning the rear end by extending the panel downwards to hide more of the engine. I'd learned to work with fibreglass by building dinghies and the Nova only required basic work. Sometime after, following a few beers at the pub, my friend Ian Reid offered to paint it for the price of the materials. I simply couldn't refuse! In the end, I chose an Audi metallic blue. We also de-seamed the body and changed the rear lights to Vauxhall Cavalier MkII and the front indicators to Ford Escort MkI, which I think really suit the car’s slick lines. By that time, I was the Scottish Area Rep for Club Nova, and in 1990 I drove the car to the National Kit Car Show at Stoneleigh with my friend John Henry in his white Nova. It was great fun driving together down the M6 — a 750mile round trip.

In 1991, life became busy, and I took the Nova off the road. By 2016, I began to consider selling it. However, I discovered the Euro-Nova forum online, and began chatting to other owners who persuaded me to restore it. The chassis was heavily corroded, but the body was sound. I had driven it into the garage, so I assumed the engine and gearbox should still be ok. The mice had chewed the electrics and devoured the interior, which smelt awful, and I knew that I was looking at restoring the chassis too.

I started a full ‘body off’ restoration that year – the first job was to strengthen the garage roof so I could suspend the body from it! Space was cramped, but I managed to strip the chassis back to the central tunnel and carry out welding repairs to the front frame head, remove the floor pans and replace them with new ones. The original floor pans had been lowered by 2.5in at the seats, so I replicated this like-for-like with the new ones. I also replaced the entire front suspension and fitted adjustable rear suspension, new wheel bearings and replaced the entire braking system.

I dreaded the electrics, but the CBS Module, supplied by Car Builder Solutions, came ready-made with fuses, relays and spurs for each circuit. It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable bits of the resto! I fitted new Smiths gauges and illuminated billet aluminium switches to a redesigned dashboard. The MkII ‘sweeping’ dash was replaced with an enlarged MkI dash pod. I then replaced the square headlights with twin round motorcycle headlamps.

The engine was fine, but I replaced the dynamo with an alternator. The 009 centrifugal distributor was swapped out with an SVDA one, which had an electronic ignition, and the original Holley carburettor was replaced with a 39 PICT unit. The engine started out as a 1300cc VW Beetle flat-four, but Mike had the case machined to take a 1776cc big bore kit. I replaced the cooler and filter with new ones, repainted the engine, and added lots of chromed cooling tinware. In April 2023 it passed its MOT with no advisories. Since then, I’ve enjoyed taking it to shows with the only two other road-legal Novas in Scotland. Incredibly, at a show last year I bumped into my old friend Ian who had painted my car — I hadn’t seen him for over 30 years! I’m also still in touch with Mike, the man who first built it. Isn’t it great how classic cars can bring people together?

#### **Eighties** Merc or Daimler? Which is the best all round executive chariot?

In the late Eighties the fight for the executive market was fierce. Jaguar and Mercedes-Benz were traditional rivals, but relative newcomers to the genre, BMW, were getting serious with the E32 7 Series. Even Bentley saw sales soar on the boosty rush of the Turbo R and, by the end of the decade, there were fresh challengers from Audi and Lexus. All were fixed on one aim – to build the best car in the world. Now our favourites are here, to settle the score.

In 1979, Mercedes-Benz unveiled the W126 S-Class. It was the very peak of design and engineering technology at the time. Meanwhile, Jaguar was still trading on a more traditional product the SIII XJ6. In 1986, and long overdue, the XJ40 was unveiled. It was acclaimed by the home press, yet internationally the S-Class still held sway as the plutocrat runaround du jour. Today we're pitching a Daimler 4.0-litre against a Mercedes-Benz W126 560SEL.

The S stands for ‘Sonder’, or special, and the W126 generation was certainly that. It was lighter, more efficient and packed with more technology than the space shuttle. If any W126 can still impress, it's got to be the top of the range model, so that's why we've tracked down the big daddy of the family, the 560SEL. That means a 5.5-litre, 295bhp V8 engine and a top speed of nearly 150mph.

The car belongs to Phil James, something of a minor celebrity in the W126 community. He owns several of these top-end models and swears by them. He even uses this SEL as his daily commuter. The first thing that strikes me about this W126 is its sheer scale. The 560 was only available in 121.1in long-wheelbase form; a gargantuan 5.2 metres.

It's even more evident on the inside as I sink into the huge, orthopaedically sculpted driver's seat, before taking note of the generous leg and headroom as I stir the big V8 into life. The rev counter assures me that the motor is running but there's very little audible or physical evidence to confirm it. With the heated seats on full power, I spend the first few miles fiddling with various toys. I sit on eight-way, electrically adjustable front seats with two-stage heating for driver and passenger.

The steering column and the pews have two memory settings, so tailored ergonomics are a button-push away.

Rear passengers don't miss out – there are two-way powered, dual-stage heated seats with electrically adjusted headrests, plus a central console that could be swapped for an in-car phone, television or a fridge.

Clearly Mercedes-Benz would never allow its customers to feel even the slightest discomfort, so it fitted the 560SEL with a fully automatic climate- control system. An interior temperature sensor constantly monitors the cabin and independently adjusts the heating and air-conditioning to maintain a preselected ideal temperature.

The rural roads surrounding Rockingham aren't the W126's natural stomping ground but they are ideal for testing real world practicality. For a car of this scale it's easy to place, as the square styling makes the dimensions easy to judge. Our first encounter with a national speed limit sign delivers a surprisingly swift turn of pace, especially as we've 1.8 tons plus 'ballast' to shift. You still have to nudge the long-travel throttle pedal deep into the carpet for the engine note to pipe up. When it does, there's no snarling muscle car soundtrack, but you certainly know there are eight cylinders under that huge bonnet.

This SEL's power-to-weight ratio is barely over 150bhp per ton, but that hardly matters. More important is the 336lb ft of torque, enough to give this SEL useful overtaking pace at almost any speed. If you really feel the need to do a traffic light drag race then the SEL will oblige, lolloping past 60mph in just 7.1 seconds, but it's really geared to cruise. It'll manage to keep you in the lap of luxury at nearly 150mph all day long, too. Just don't show it a corner... despite the optional sport dampers fitted to this SEL, and the self-levelling rear (standard on 560s), sumptuous comfort is still its primary rationale. The damping is ideal at insulating the cabin from bumps, but together with the roll bars, they're too forgiving to provide much in the way of body control. The 560SEL still grants its occupants huge levels of comfort and isolation from the worst our pot-holed road network can throw at it, but for better or worse, it's really no sports saloon.

So, how does the Daimler compare? Well Jaguar has always prided itself on making luxury cars with a sporting bent. Today's Daimler 4.0-litre is actually a Jaguar XJ6 (XJ40) with improved leather seats, a fluted chrome grille and picnic tables in the back. You'd pay a four-grand premium over the Jaguar XJ 4.0-litre for the Daimler badge privilege.

Getting into Jonathan Palman's Daimler there's a marked difference from the SEL. There's less room for a start – it feels as though the lower dash, centre console and door cards are all hemming you in. Just like in the Benz, the seat and wheel are easily adjusted to an ideal position with a few flicks of electric adjusters. At idle the Daimler's engine is just as creamy smooth as the SEL's V8, despite losing out on a couple of cylinders.

The 'J-gate' automatic shifter made its first appearance in the XJ40, and provides an additional 'manual' shift pattern just around the corner from the conventional auto layout. There's time for that later – instead, I leave the ZF four-speed to make its own mind up for the time being, so I can concentrate on familiarising myself with the Daimler's road manners.

Along the same rural roads as ventured along in the Benz, the Daimler's ride is very nearly as compliant over the rougher sections, floating along serenely. Only the very worst potholes register their presence within the cabin. Both these cars have slim pillars and huge windscreens, which means wonderfully clear, driver vision. The Jag's steering wheel is similarly huge. The two-spoke design provides a great view of the dials, but I'd rather trade a little less vision for a bit more grip and a smaller steering wheel.

The Daimler's engine might not be as powerful as the lump in the SEL, but it certainly makes up for it with character. Where the SEL's M117 dishes out its mid-range urge with the smoothness of a well-aged cigar, the Daimler's AJ6 loves to rev. The 24-valve six is refined and smooth below 3500rpm but go beyond and you're pushed along vigour. Although the on-paper stats say otherwise, this Daimler feels like the quicker car.

Flick this late-spec Daimler's transmission into Sport and the changes sharpen up noticeably. It also holds on to 223bhp. It sounds great too. Once up to speed you don't need to dive on the brakes before the corners, which is just as well as it turns out as they're underwhelming. Turn in isn't as devoid of feel as the Benz; push in hard and the car leans over, but it's progressive, allowing you to feel the front load up. There's plenty of grip and even in cold conditions.

Getting on the power early reveals a frustrating delay from the 'box, but once over-ridden in manual mode it shifts neatly and briskly as and when required. Easing off and returning to a wafting pace, this Daimler settles back into the guise of a luxury executive express. The transformation is more convincing than it was in the Mercedes, though cabin refinement remains higher in the Benz – there are a few friction noises from overlapping trim and dash surfaces in the Daimler. There's also a hiss from a rubber seal that's past its best, hinting at a level of finish that's no doubt good for Jag, but still not up to Benz.

Then again even Mercedes couldn't match its own standards for the W126's, follow-up, the W140. Despite this, and to my surprise, it's the Daimler that provides more fun behind the wheel. But does fun make it the best Eighties executive car?

Both saloons are rare survivors of a lost era. The slab-sided Benz may look imposing but it's anything but to drive. It's as easy to use today as it must have been 40 years ago. It was given standard fit safety tech such as ABS, safety belt pretensioners and crumple zones many years before they became the norm. Sheer comfort, along with its engineering solidity, makes the W126 undisputed king of executive luxury. That's the case if you prefer to sit in the back. While the ride might well be as comfortable as a Rolls-Royce, it handles like one too. Combine this with numb feedback from the steering box and if you're behind the wheel, you can't help but feel the plucky Brit might just be the one to have.

The Daimler doesn't skimp on ride quality, but it doesn't compromise handling either. Ride versus sportiness is a tricky knife edge to balance, but it's a balancing act that Jag has got spot-on time and time again. The Daimler is the better allrounder than the Benz. Will it break more often? Probably, but you'll cheerfully forgive it and fix it when it does.

On top of this, the XJ40 shakes off much of Jag's conservative image. Its styling was a strong departure from the SIII XJ6's curves, which still upsets some traditionalists. However, with such a tiny price tag, it's easy to award the rosette to Coventry.

Boardroom Bust Up

#### Team **PC** blasts to Silverstone to watch Matt as he takes to the track in his 750 special

**WORDS** MATT TOMKINS AND PC TEAM **PHOTOS** MATT HOWELL AND JON ELSEY

Sunrise over The Wing, Silverstone’s modernist centrepiece, which just weeks prior had played host to the British Grand Prix. Fresh from an evening of good humour and grub with my fellow competitors, I awake in my roof tent above the Land Rover and peek out. There, atop the white polished floor of the international pits, is my Austin Seven special. It’s come a long way from the Ruby that I discovered rotting in a shed five years ago. From barn find to racing car, it’s bare aluminium bonnet shimmers in the sun. Today was the day. Today, I would fulfil a childhood fantasy. Today, I would race at Silverstone.

Some miles away, the rest of the Practical Classics team strike up their race-bred engines and point headlights towards Northamptonshire. They would be meeting up at the very excellent Flight Deck Café at Turweston aerodrome before approaching the legendary circuit in convoy. The kettle was on, the bacon was crisping gently in the frying pan and the sun was out. They too were ready for a day at the races.

It’s a special day not only for me, but for the club hosting the event, too. Today’s meeting marks 75 years of the 750 Motor Club’s 750 Formula Championship, the longest continuously running race formula in the world which has spawned such greats as Arthur Mallock, Colin Chapman, Eric Broadley, Mike Costin and Gordon Murray to name but a few, and which started when Silverstone was little more than an abandoned airfield with a single tannoy, a caravan and a few hay bales. The current 750 Formula Championship is now in its third iteration of cars, formidable-looking, full-blown bespoke racing machines that are all fitted with Fiat’s 1108cc ‘FIRE’ engine, in relatively standard trim. However, both the original Austin Seven-based (Class A and B, the latter supercharged) cars that started it all and their successors, sporting Reliant’s 750 and 850 engines (Class C) as well as some with Coventry Climax power (Class D) are all represented on track by the Historic 750 Formula Series in which I would be racing.

As cars and drivers begin to arrive for the days’ racing, a crowd gathers in the corner of the garages. Drawing the crowd and and aiming for its first successful race result since its restoration was completed live on the club’s stand at Race Retro in 2017 is the Warren, a formidable Reliant-powered machine that won the 1973 750 Formula Championship.

It’s a distinctly different looking beast, defined by extra-long front radius rod and vertical exhaust stacks, and powered via a toothed belt-drive by a rear-mounted supercharged 747cc side valve Reliant engine with a custom cylinder head – quite the engineering marvel. Today, to celebrate the formula’s anniversary, it’ll be driven by Bill Cowley Junior, who currently races in the 'modern' 750 ‘Fiat’ Formula and whose family have a great legacy with the 750 Formula. Keep an eye out for the Cowley name later.

Signing on and a new driver briefing precede a 15-minute qualifying session, in which I must complete three full laps to be eligible to race. My stomach’s doing somersaults in the assembly area and I think of the rest of the team, tucking into a bacon sandwich, set to enjoy one of the best value days out for any petrolhead – spectator tickets for 750MC events are generally sub-£20 for adults and free for under 16s, with grass-roots Going to see Matt blast his home-built Seven round Silverstone was pretty emotional. We had all watched him start with a completely knackered Ruby and slowly create his dream machine over the last four years, and now, here was the end game. Matt was going to race at Silverstone, in a proper actual race on the big boys circuit. Dreams don’t come any better do they?

But what to take from my garage? I needed to bring along some appropriate wheels to support young Tomkins in his first big race with the 750 club. Only one option really, my BMW E36 328. It has motorsport pedigree as long as your arm and when I was watching a lot of it, back in the Nineties, it was the E36 that was BMW’s main weapon of choice. Joachim Winkelhock competed in the BTCC with the 318i and 320i from 1993 to 1995, winning the title in 1993. In the same year, Johnny Cecotto won the German ADAC GT Cup driving an E36 M3. Cecotto won the Super Tourenwagen Cup for BMW in 1994 and 1998, while Winkelhock won in 1995. There’s plenty more, but that’ll do for me – 328 it was.

Early out and on my way to Turweston Aerodrome to meet with the gang for breakfast in the Flight Deck café. As usual the 328 provided a lot of entertainment. I’ve never owned a car that does so much so well. It’s fast, very fast, and it handles extremely well, but is also pliable and forgiving without any sense of being separated from the road.

After breakfast we headed to the circuit, joining Tomkins in the paddock where we enjoyed him forgetting to wear the right shoes, and cheered him on as he heroically came very last indeed. Not dying was the aim, and not destroying the car he so lovingly built. It was a great day, and here’s the thing… I might bang on about how fast my Beemer is, but that’s just wannabee nonsense. There was only one of us out there actually on the hallowed tarmac, and he was doing the business, nice one Matt. Forza! events taking place at circuits across the country throughout the year. Put at least one on your list next year, it’s a truly fantastic experience.

Noise test passed, it’s on to the track, a circuit which I’ve visited since I was five years-old.

It is a strange feeling but I push all sentiment to the back of my brain, hold on tight and go for it. My first impressions are just how massive the track is. As I pull upwards of 70mph down the Hangar Straight, the perception of speed is bizarre. The track is designed for Formula 1 cars travelling 100mph faster, and so 70 feels slow. It is, compared to others I’m sharing a grid with, but this is my second time on track in a car I built to go to the pub in, so I’m taking it easy. Unlike on the road, there are no close points of reference, no closing speeds. It messes with your head. We’re using the international circuit today, the lower half of the GP track, with British Touring Cars thrashing around the top of the circuit.

The results are in, and I’ve qualified in penultimate place, just ahead of the number nine car of Thomas Emden that had been suffering mechanical issues. So, in reality I’ll be starting from the back of the grid – do I care? Not one jot. I’m on the grid at Silverstone. At this moment, Mike Harvey arrives with a set of 15in wheels shod with radial rubber. ‘Try these’, he suggests. ‘You’ll be amazed at the difference.’ I’m initially sceptical, and a tad concerned that this reduced rolling radius would put my maximum revs higher than I would like, but it’s worth a try. Out of my thin-soled fireproof shoes I change before setting about jacking the car from the floor and swapping the wheels for the ones Mike has kindly loaned.

Time is ticking and the tannoy calls for our grid to form up in assembly just as I refill the fuel tank and lockwire the cap firmly shut. I lower the car, check all the wheels for tightness, don my helmet and start the engine before forming up in assembly. The team have arrived by now, just in time to watch me sprint away from the car. Warming the engine, and mentally preparing myself for the race ahead, just as the minute board is shown I look down. I’m still in my trainers! I’m not the most physically active of people, so a sprint the length of The Wing to change, in helmet and race suit, was not the calming start to the session I’d hoped for. I’m helped into my race shoes by Richard Verheyden who’s number 6 car’s freshly rebuilt engine had failed in qualifying before sprinting back to the Tomkins Special. ‘Do I need to call a medic?’ enquires the chief marshal. Honestly? Probably. But my heart would have been racing anyway as we’re led out onto the circuit to form up on the hallowed grid.

The red lights go out and immediately the difference brought by the smaller wheels is evident. I’m no longer chasing the ratios of my original Ruby gearbox, with enough torque in third and even fourth now to pull me out of most corners, Village aside.

Yes, 2CV racing is a thing… and has been so in the UK for many decades. With cars barely modified at first, the circuit competition began at Mallory Park in 1989 and has since evolved through the Classic 2CV Racing Club. The ‘Le Mans-style’ 24 Hour endurance event, held from 1990 to the present day, is an annual treat for the senses. Drivers from a host of teams fearlessly pilot their tin snails as the cars shriek around the circuit for hours on end. Pit stops – and even whole engine changes if necessary – are performed swiftly and it’s a truly beguiling spectacle. Deux Chevaux racing has taken place in various forms in other parts of the world too, with Morocco and Australia the scene of desert raids, while an ice racing extravaganza takes place in Switzerland each year.

Almost 40 years of regularly being driven flat out across Europe means my own 200,000-mile 2CV (on its original engine) is quite used to hard use, although I’m not sure it’s a match for the machinery at Silverstone. As we watch Matt slipping into his racing suit we fondly recall his first day at Practical Classics. He was a skinny, well-mannered thing and, for his age, annoyingly talented with a spanner, too. Dashing around the place and keen to prove himself as a talented fixer of things, it felt like it was only a matter of time until he built his own car. Seeing the sketches in his shed slowly evolve into a full-size Austin Seven special has been a genuine highlight of my decade at PC.

Then, watching this ridiculous polished bathtub being shunted into the paddock at Silverstone… surely such a thing isn’t allowed in 2024? Well, it is – and hallelujah for that! We watched in admiration, our cheers punctuated by sporadic gasps from Matt’s clearly apprehensive parents as their son slung his homemade motor around one of the world’s greatest racing circuits, ample beard flapping in the breeze. It was an afternoon I’ll never forget. I doubt he will either.

My confidence builds with every lap and by the end of the fifteen-minute race I’ve found 11 seconds over my best qualifying time. I check the timing sheet. I’m last… ish. But I’ve beaten my qualifying time, so I’m cock-a -oop. I’m also ahead of the number 67 Whippet of Paul Mason, which had spun and six DNFs, three of whom were caught up in an incident on the first lap that resulted in a red flag and a restart.

Back in the pits and the team arrive, having been watching from the sidelines. ‘Heroically last’ booms Danny, much to everyone’s amusement. We take advantage of the formula’s fabulous hospitality and enjoy a spot of lunch before I find time for a quick levels check and refuel then line up for race two. As we assemble on the grid, there’s a problem – my brakes are stuck on. I wave for a marshal, but manage to free them with a wiggle of the handbrake. The cables, it seems, aren’t sliding as they should over the central linkage. I make a mental note to deploy some loose juice later. Once more the lights go out and we’re racing. Off the line, with a fresh boost of enthusiasm and confidence in the smaller wheels I’m even keeping up with John Moss, whose number 85 car is closest to mine in both aesthetic and pub-ability. Then it comes, the misfire that’d plague me for the next fifteen minutes. I quickly work out that it’s a fuel pump issue. The float chamber is emptying faster than the pump can fill it, so I need to lift off for three seconds in every 20 or so to allow fuel to reach the carburettor. Inherently aware of the dangers of lean running (extreme heat, melted pistons, burned valves…. you know the drill), I back off. There’s little point coming last AND destroying an expensive engine. It’s a crying shame as the car is handling so much better on the radial tyres and I’ve finally got my head around the geography of the track. Despite this I add just one second overall to my best time from race one, so I must have improved in the corners but, two DNFs aside, this time I really am stone last. Frustrated, I take the chequered flag.

I’d intended to attend Tomkins’s big day out at Silverstone in my TR6, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get a fresh MOT on it in time. Luckily, I was able to use my dad’s 2.5PI instead, which was quite fitting given the motorsport exploits of the Triumph ‘Big Saloon’ in the early Seventies. BLMC sanctioned a four-strong works team of 2.5PIs in the 1970 London-Mexico World Cup Rally and, after battling with the works Escorts throughout, the cars of Brian Culcheth and Paddy Hopkirk came home in second and fourth place respectively.

As I made the journey down from Yorkshire to Northamptonshire, although the terrain encountered was nowhere near as arduous, I was reminded yet again of what a brilliant long-distance machine 2.5PI is. With plenty of power on tap, plus a comfortable ride and excellent braking capabilities, it got me down to Silverstone without incident and in time, most importantly, to enjoy a spot of breakfast with messrs Hopkins and Walshe before watching Tomkins take to the iconic circuit.

Thankfully his two races went off without incident, too, although it was immediately clear that most of the other 750 MC competitors were aboard machines much more focused on track use, compared to Matt’s plucky little special that appeared to have him sitting on it rather than in it. Which made his exploits on the day all the more impressive, as he completed both races without a hitch and, most importantly, both man and machine remained in one piece at close of play. Matt’s pace was somewhat shall we say, slower, than most of the pack, and I’ll never forget the sight of him being swarmed by four or five other cars as they overtook him all at the same time. It looked terrifying to me, but was all part of the fun according to the intrepid Mr T! Respect to him for what he has achieved so far and, with a series of tweaks to the Seven planned, what he will no doubt achieve going forward.

That’s racing, though, as they say, and has given me a list of improvements to make before my next outing – at Mallory Park. Prizegiving is a typically jovial affair and there are smiles all round – even from those with even longer lists of jobs to do than I before the final meeting of the season. Taking the overall win in both races was Bill Cowley in the Warren. Both races in my class, A, were won by Charlie Plain-Jones in the ‘Cowley Special’, a car built by Bill’s dad Nigel when he was just 15 years-old.

As the hubbub dies down and the team wend their respective ways home, I return the wheels to Mike and vow to invest in a set of my own, before loading the Seven back onto the trailer. As I leave the home of British motorsport behind, I wonder what 1998 Matt would make of today’s exploits? From those early days attending club motorsport events with my dad to taking a place on the grid in a car we’d built together… I think little Matt would be pretty darn chuffed. ■

## Matt breaks down his first season spend

GONE RACING

In the January 2025 issue of Practical Classics, we head for Silverstone to watch our Tomkins hit the world-famous circuit for the first time in his home-built Austin 7 Special – joining him in our 2CV, BMW 3-series and Triumph.

There are loads of restoration stories, from a man who can’t stop restoring Vauxhall Vivas to an enthusiast who has revived his futuristic Beetle-based Nova kit car – complete with electric cockpit canopy! There are two in-depth guides on how to buy two of the greatest sports cars of all time: the Austin-Healey 3000 and Porsche Boxster.

Meanwhile, there’s a head-to-head between a Mercedes S Class and Jaguar XJ, a scrap between Playstation heroes – from TVR Cerbera to Toyota Supra – and our team of writers provide help with sewing upholstery and tracing electrical faults while giving updates on their own project cars, including a Rover 75, Smart Roadster and a supercharged Morris Minor.

Oh, and James travels to all the rudest named places in the UK in a Jurassic Park style Citroën C5. No other magazine does all this!

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#### Matt finds time for a final push on his blown Minor

When is a car actually ‘finished’? Is it when you can drive it on the road? That first MOT? Or when the collection of parts in the shed dwindle to just those last curiously specific-looking washers? I ‘finished’ the restoration of my first car, the now-supercharged Morris Minor two-door saloon, midway through 2020.

I mean, that’s when I drove it for the first time, tentatively up and down the adjacent farm track. But plans for an epic road trip were scuppered by a virus, with travel restricted to the bare minimum and the weekly food shop seeming an inappropriately unnecessary contact risk should I break down on a test drive and require assistance or recovery. As the world found a new normal, I used the car a little more, and I did use it to drive my wife and I away from our wedding in 2021. But it was my now-sold MGB GT that whisked us to the Highlands on honeymoon – not this most precious of all my classics, as I had yet to grow to trust it fully. Since its ‘completion’, I’ve built and raced my Austin Seven special from the ground up, finished my epic Mini project (still for sale, incidentally) and even welcomed a new member to our family. But I’ve still never taken the Minor on a proper road trip, nor learned to fully trust it. Although it hadn’t completed many miles, I’d blown a differential to bits through slightly excessive use of the loud pedal, popped a head gasket towing a trailer to the NEC, suffered fuel starvation from a standard pump that couldn’t keep up with demand and been plagued by air leaks and potentially catastrophic lean-running (thankfully noticeable through the DTM Power air/fuel ratio meter I’d fitted).

A couple of months ago, I decided enough was enough, and removed the troublesome supercharger in favour a naturally aspirated set-up to get it mobile once more and allow me to fall in love with driving it again. And to make a list of the snags that needed resolving, belt-driven elephant in the room aside. The plan worked. I drove the car daily for a fortnight, even building myself up to trusting the car enough to take my daughter to nursery in it, and thoroughly enjoyed the heated leather seats now summer is a mere memory.

I adjusted all the brakes, played with tyre pressures and dialled in the fuel regulator such that it kept the carburettor brimmed without overcoming the seal of the float valve. A smile was glued to my face every moment behind the wheel.

Meanwhile, the supercharger lay on the workbench, and plans were afoot. Since I first supercharged the car, a friend, Chris, had done the same to his Minor. But being a clever design engineer, instead of compromising on the original MINI mounting points as I had done, he had milled the back off of his supercharger and designed a neat inlet support plate on CAD, which bolted through four newly tapped holes on the induction side of the ‘charger, preventing the issue’s I’d faced with air leaks. With this concept proven on a trip to Belgium with his family, Chris kindly passed me the .DXT file, which I sent to a laser cutting firm. A week later, a plate arrived in the post that could be combined with a 180-degree 44mm mandrel bend from an online exhaust supplies shop to manufacture the cure to all my air leaks… I hoped. I headed for the PC workshop, called in Clive Jefferson for moral support and an additional pair of hands, and fired up the welder.

The first job was to modify the back of the ‘charger. I’d carefully removed the protrusion before the day in question using a hacksaw, file and a DA sander to finish the job, so it was now a case of using the newly-cut primary manifold plate as a drilling guide for four 4.5mm holes, which would be tapped to take M5 set screws. Pedants, don’t chastise me; the ‘charger is a modern part, so there’s no issue using metric fixings here! This was the scariest part of the job – there would be no going back if I broke through the alloy casting, but gently did it and soon the job was done. Next, Clive welded an M8 bolt to a pre-cut hole in the plate that Chris had designed in to allow a rose jointed rear support to be taken from the rearmost rocker cover bolt, before we set to work carefully cutting and measuring the pipework that would transfer the air/fuel mix from carburettor to supercharger.

Slicing the 180-degree bend through its centre gave us two identical bends that could then be marked, sliced and welded to the correct shape – with just enough clearance on the original fuel line and wiper motor to fit the ethos of easily reversible changes I’ve championed throughout this project.

Now with custom gaskets made, and plenty of compressed air deployed throughout to ensure no swarf had made its way into the pipework or ‘charger, it was ‘simply’ a case of building up the supercharger assembly as a package that could easily be removed and replaced with a NA setup should problems arise – can you tell I’m still unconvinced?!

Sun set on the workshop with the ‘charge pack’ just bolted up, so there’s still some work to be done (drive belt, cables, hoses, braces etc) before I can turn the key and discover whether this was all work for nothing, and only then commence the long timing and tuning process to ensure the car can be safely driven without melting its expensive OMEGA pistons. However the end is now in sight and there's a deadline looming ever-closer. The car has a place on a rather special wintery road trip. Hundreds of miles await, and the clock is ticking. Find out what and where very soon in PC.

**:a[matt.tomkins@practicalclassics.co.uk]{href='mailto:matt.tomkins@practicalclassics.co.uk' }**

Final flourish?

#### **FANTASY FORECOURT**: We choose between five computer game favourites

Gran Turismo was the ultimate Nineties driving game – a Playstation experience you’ll never forget, if you’re of a certain age. Indeed, for many, as they got older, it influenced their choice of car in the real world. There have been ten incarnations of Gran Turismo in the past quarter century, but the original PS1 version – which took five years to develop – was the one that truly made its mark in a world of chintzy arcade games. GT1 developers even used the soundtrack of the real cars – all recorded at a racing circuit.

So here, our task is to choose our favourite cars from the first Gran Turismo. Just 10,000 credits in the game would get you either of the Toyota Supra Turbo MkIII or Mitsubishi 3000 GT. Both delighted with superb handling in the game and in the real world, give their owners a mix of high-tech thrills and dependability. Next up the chain, as you gained titles and credits in the game, were the next-level Japanese sports cars such as the iconic R32 version of the Skyline GT-R and the one we’ve picked here – Honda’s NSX-R. As we recall, the Honda was fast, but something of a handful to inexperienced gamers. Talking of handfuls, the last two choices are tributes to the best ‘prize’ cars on offer in the game – the TVR Cerbera LM and Dodge Viper GTS-R. We might be aboard the roadgoing versions, but they’re still savage. So, let’s take a ride to Trial Mountain, Grand Valley East and the Autumn Ring…

State of gameplay

#### Bob Meldrum loves a Viva HB Estate, and he loves a hot one

**WORDS** DANNY HOPKINS **PICTURES** JONATHAN JACOB

Sometimes, a love of a particular make and model of car comes to you completely by accident and in the case of Bob Meldrum, that’s certainly what happened. Bob is the proud owner of four Vauxhall Viva HB Estates and has owned at least one of the curvaceous classic load luggers since he was 18.

It all started for Bob in the late Seventies. He’d recently passed his test and was driving his dad’s Ford Cortina MkII, but was itching for some wheels of his own. ‘I came home one day and my dad told me that his uncle had this old Vauxhall sitting in a unit, which had been there for a year or so as he couldn’t get it to start. He said if I could get it going, it was mine.’

He went down to look at it with a friend and it turned out to be a blue HB Viva Estate. It had a blocked breather valve on top of the rocker cover, which Bob cleaned up and adjusted. ‘It ran like new, so I told Uncle George the car was fixed and he could have it back – then he said that I’d fixed it, so it was mine.’

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