:: Diary - September 2012 ::

:: Saturday, September 1, 2012 ::

I've agreed to help a friend by taking the Cerbera along on his Rotary Club's Classic Car Tour. They are collecting for Yorkhill Children's hospital in Glasgow, and I've managed to raise £100 in sponsorship. It would have been more but I've been a bit distracted, for reasons that I needn't go into here.

Yesterday I finally got around to giving the car a bit of a wash, before the rain came on. Seeing as it's likely to be raining over the weekend too, I don't think I'll bother with the full spit and polish routine.

So this morning we are meeting outside the Transport Museum in Glasgow for a bit of a photoshoot, registration, and bacon rolls. And a bit of fundraising from passers by, of course. When we are parked up, we are all given a large oil drip tray to put under the engine. Cheeky gits.

There's a wide range of cars on display, including a Porsche 911, a Rover P6 3500, and a Triumph Stag.

The Cerbera is parked beside one of the MGBs. There's another MGB and an MGC, and an MG TF...

along with an MGTD, a Teal Bugatti Replica, and a nice Jensen Interceptor convertible.

Another pic of the Teal.

This E Type Jaguar is very nice. It's got me going again…

There's also a Dutton Phaeton with two huge burly blokes shoehorned into it, and a couple of Audi TTs that arrived later.

We have time for a bit of a look around the Transport Museum. Now, I like these places, don't get me wrong, but I like to be able to look at the exhibits, you know - it's kind of the point of exhibiting them, is not not? But here, they have very clever shelves and ramps away up the walls, with cars sitting on them 20 feet above your head. Yes you can see them, but only one side, and from a distance, looking upwards.

And another thing - the displays are a bit random. You are looking at buses and there's a GPO motorbike and some seagulls. Then among the ships, there's a display of pistols (the link to transport being that Dick Turpin had one and he held up stagecoaches).

In among all that, and after 2 laps looking for it, there's a cafe that does indeed sell bacon butties. And very nice they are too.

Soon, it's time to set off. We're not going in convoy, the plan is that you have a route book, which you are suggested to follow. We have booked overnight accommodation near Oban, so as long as you are there by dinner time, there's no problem. You can travel alone or in groups, you can stop where you like, the only stipulation is that you leave the start at one minute intervals. Everybody lines up (running over some plastic drip trays in the process - oops! (I remembered to take mine out, if only so that I could show off that, contrary to popular expectation, there were no oil drips in it).

I set off a minute behind John, my pal who invited me to take part. I soon catch them up, and the first part of the route takes us through the Clyde Tunnel, where I seem to get all confused and have some difficulty finding the correct gear, much to the entertainment of the occupants of the car in front.

Next stop is the Western Ferry from Gourock to Dunoon. That's it over there, in the top left of the picture. The reason it's over there, and not underneath the Cerbera, is that John in the car in front, couldn't find his pre-booked ticket, so had to undertake a 5 minute rummage through every pocket on every item of clothing he was wearing, then every item in the boot, before he could find it. So we missed the boat.

The boats run every 20 minutes or so though, so we're soon on the next ferry, along with a number of the others who have caught us up in the queue. This gives us time for a good blether in the bracing estuary breeze (there is a passenger lounge, but I've been in more luxuriously-appointed bus shelters) before a cruise in convoy through Dunoon and then a drive across the Cowal Peninsula and round to Inverary.

St Catherine's Bay, beside Loch Fyne.

John's wife Lesley is a tour guide, so she knows all the coffee stops, and we go to one in Inverary for a nice wee lunch. Then it's on to the last leg of the journey, just as the rain starts, to Connell Bridge near Oban, where we'll all be staying overnight.

:: Sunday, September 2, 2012 ::

Breakfast is at 9am. By that time I've already looked at the route book and worked out my course for today. I spent most of the trip yesterday with John and Lesley so I think I'll give them a break today and a chance to speak to others.

Breakfast is the usual choice. Healthy rabbit food, or the full fry up. I'm not a rabbit. I find myself (by coincidence, honest, I didn't see him yesterday) sitting opposite the owner of the E-Type. I still want one.

There's no fixed time to set off - we have to be at the other hotel to finish at 3:00, with a "high tea" at 4:00. A few set off and then I start up the beastie and trickle out quietly. Well, almost. If disappearing up the road in a roar counts as "quiet". John has been assigned to take video footage of the cars leaving, so he'll be a while yet.

After just 5 or 6 miles I stop to admire the scenery and take a photo. The Rover, the Stag and the E-Type all motor past waving cheerily (or maybe they were taking the piss because they thought I had broken down).

Another couple of miles, and another photo stop. The other three must have stopped somewhere as well, because I catch them up pretty soon after, in a different order, and follow them then for a good bit. That E Type looks beautiful you know…

Eventually I stop for a wee drink of water, and the two Audi TTs and the Dutton come past, the latter looking as though it's been inflated around the two blokes inside. We then carry on in convoy for a bit until we start passing various watering holes, where members of our party can be seen scattered about.

I've arranged to meet John and Lesley at the Glencoe visitor centre (google "Massacre of Glencoe" if you don't understand the historical significance) so we stop for a wee cake and some juice. Oh and their Scotch pies look tempting as well. Better than Lesley's porridge which looks more like warm rabbit sick.

Final leg. I drive through Glencoe on my own, apart from a guy in a VW Golf os some super-duper description who seems keen to ensure that he can overtake wherever I can. Seeing as the road is still damp, I'm not giving it big welly (or even changing down gears) so I'm sure he's impressed himself and his mates down the pub.

Then I catch up to the MGC and we poodle down bast the Navy base at Faslane to Helensburgh and the finish line.

At the prize giving, I'm surprised to win the "President's Favourite Car" award. The president was apparently impressed by the sound and the colour as soon as I drove into the museum car park yesterday. The president is a woman. I rest my (previously stated) case.

All that remains is 40-mile drive home, and that's me done 310 miles over the two days, without refuelling either! Fast and economical, see?

:: Sunday, September 9, 2012 ::

I have hardly clapped eyes on the Cerbera this week, I've been so busy with work. I found time yesterday to pack various sorted items into it: a bag of teddy bears; waterproof coat and trousers, umbrella, sun cream (you never can tell when you're going to Knockhill); some "rock peg" tent pegs for holding down tents on gravel surfaces; a big hammer to knock them in with, and big crowbar to get them out again. Not my camera though, unfortunately.

So this morning, first stop is the petrol station. 56 litres it takes, and that was for just on 300 miles last weekend. That's just over 24 mpg from a 4.2 litre Cerbera! I must drive like Miss Daisy, must try harder. Either that or the garage is grossly undercharging.

Then it's off to Knockhill race circuit, to bag a prime spot for the Sporting Bears stand. On the way up the motorway, just as I leave a 50 mph section, I notice that the silver BMW behind has two internal mirrors and two passenger door mirrors. My acceleration from 50mph-ish to 70 mph-ish is therefore even more sedate than normal Miss Daisy style. He turns off after a couple of junctions.

Despite my light-loafered right foot, I am still the third car to arrive in the club display area, and better than that, I know the steward! Prime spot blagged! Right beside the donut van and across from the burger van, and with a view of the circuit and lots of passers-by. Can't get better.

I meet a man from (shit where did he say he was from again?) who has just bought a TVR S3C, and we have a long chat about various things, including him needing a new roof hoop, because his is broken. It's good to meet people who are just getting into something you've had for years, and have started to take for granted. The TVR S Series is a seriously under-rated wee car, even by some people (me) who have owned one for ages.

This wee Austin A35 was racing, and although he wasn't the fastest out there, he was obviously enjoying himself! Original 850cc A-series engine but with lots of tricky bits, including lower mountaing so the sump was almost scraping the ground. Brilliant.

This 1928 Lagonda joined our stand and ended up winning a trophy.

On the way home, I follow a 1920s Rolls Royce from Knockhill to the motorway, and then he turns left, I turn right and blast down the motorway slip ramp. Fortunately the ramp is pretty short so I don't get anywhere near Vmax before I merge 2 cars in front of a fully-liveried police traffic car, who then decides to not go past at the speed he was originally doing, but to drop in and follow me for a couple of junctions. I think Cerberas automatically attract attention, not all of it entirely welcome.

Other than that, nothing particularly to report. The exhaust might be blowing a bit though.

:: Wednesday, September 12, 2012 ::

I met up today with James, for a blether about TVRs and stuff.

A welcome bonus is that he hands me a box of spare odds and ends for the S. A couple of rear lights, a pair of side indicators, and these: shiny stainless steel bonnet hinges. Metalwork porn, they are...

So I head home, all happy. As I am driving (in the ill-fated Lexus) through some 30mph roadworks, a twat in a tipper decides he can go faster, so blooters past, kicking up a shower of loose stones. One of them hits the windscreen, bottom centre, with a helluva bang after I watch it sail towards me in slow motion. "Oh dear," thinks I, "I shall have to get that repaired at my own expense, never mind."

About two miles further on, the front wheel falls into a pothole on a roundabout, that Sir Ralph Ffiennes would have been scared to descend and explore, and the chip in the screen turns into a one foot crack. "Oh dear," thinks I, "that's jolly inconvenient."

See, no rants…

:: Thursday, September 13, 2012 ::

Task 1 today: phone insurance company to get windscreen replaced, That's organised for Sunday.

Task 2 - phone insurance company about the Lexus' paint finish. I haven't been able to organise the "sunny day inspection and repair" they wanted, so nothing has happened for 2 months. I tell them that it doesn't need to be sunny to see the orange peel effect, but I don't want to hand it back to them, because they are fucking useless (in fact, they fall considerably short of a standard that could be described, even in a moment of unwarranted graciousness, as "fucking useless"). If they were to really focus on quality control and customer care, they might one day aspire to join the ranks of those who are only as bad as "fucking useless".

At the same time, I don't want to have it repaired anywhere else, and give the useless twits the excuse of backing out of the 5-year warranty on the bodywork repairs. What to do…

:: Saturday, September 15, 2012 ::

Decision made. I phone the TVR dealer who has been looking after the Cerbera, and ask him how much he will give me for it. I'll be taking it down there as soon as I can (I have work meetings every day this week) to get a final value. If it's reasonable, I'll go for that rather than advertise it and have the hassle of dreamy-eyed test pilots coming to the house for a jolly.

Then the windscreen company phone about the screen for the Lexus - they had to order it in, and it arrived in two bits. They need a new one and they won't get it in until Tuesday…

I washed the Lexus today and the orange-peely effect isn't that noticeable until you really look for it. Looking at other cars, even new showroom Lexus, very few of them have properly straight paint. I have decided to just live with it.

:: Friday, September 21, 2012 ::

Haven't had a chance to take the Cerbera down to the dealer. I haven't been able to find the MOT Certificate either… All other papers are in order though, and the MOT is easy to get from any MOT garage, so there's no problem. Next week I have a bit more time, so should be able to take the car down.

The Lexus got its new windscreen this afternoon - they did a really good job, and I was particularly impressed with the machine they have for removing the old screen. Autoglass have it patented though so nobody else can use the same idea. It's basically a spool of wire that fixes to the outside of the screen, with one singe bit through the screen bonding onto a ratcheted spool on the inside. They run the wire around the outside of the screen, then wind it in on the ratchet, and it slices through the bonding right round the screen as it tightens. Then the screen just lifts off… Remove old bonding, apply new sealer, fit screen and leave to set. Easy peasy.

:: Saturday, September 22, 2012 ::

Went out in the Lexus today in the rain. The wiper on the driver's side is hitting the trim at the top corner of the screen. Only just, but enough to make a "clack" noise on each stroke. When I get home, I disconnect the wiper from the spindle, turn it one spline, and bolt it down again. Sorted!

Why, though, do I always end up having to follow people around, sorting their work (aka "wiping their arse" in less genteel circles)?

:: Monday, September 24, 2012 ::

I was going to take the Cerbera down to the dealer today, but still haven't found the MOT Certificate. So today I drop by Kal's (my friendly TVR MOT tester) to get a duplicate, which takes about 5 minutes.

I then spend 2 hours in the garage helping a friend I haven't seen for ages, who has borrowed one of Kal's ramps to change the back brake pads and disks on his wife's Alfa. He's not sure what he's doing, and is supposed to be working under Kal's advice and tuition, but once I turn up, Kal somehow disappears. Aside from the social chat, one thing I quickly realise is how much easier everything is when you can work at a decent height, not scrabbling about on the floor. I need a car lift.

Then, with MOT in hand, I phone up the dealer with the intention of taking the car down on Wednesday (I have work meetings tomorrow), only to find that he's going to France to collect a Cerbera, and won't be back until late on Thursday. Looks like my trip will have to be this weekend, then.

:: Tuesday, September 25, 2012 ::

I have a confession to make. I'm sure that you'll understand, but I have to "come out". I like to watch car restoration programmes on TV. There, I've said it. It's much warmer and comfier and cleaner than working on cars yourself all the time.

Wheeler Dealers - Mike Brewer plays this "wide-boy Arfur Daley" character although it's obvious that he (or at least his character) knows nuffink about motors innit. Edd China is a genius - any man who can build a motorised sofa, complete with coffee table and clock, and a coke-tin gear change, on to a mini subframe is a legend in my book. They buy classics, they tart them up, and they flog them, for a "profit" (which would be more than wiped out by any half-decent labour charge from Edd). They don't pretend to be doing "full restorations" but at least they sort any major faults with the cars, and Edd's great with the handy tips on things like "how to get a bush out of a housing without a 10-tonne press" (although it's a bit misleading to condense 4 hours of burning, sawing, chiselling and filing into about 12 seconds - doesn't really capture the pleasure of the job, or the conclusion that a 10-tonne press might be a bloody good investment).

Then there's the "A wossname is Born" series with Mark Evans. Those are good, as "money-no-object" full restorations or rebuilds. Again, you can learn a lot from watching his guest experts (the main thing I've learned being that I'm bloody hopeless). It's entertaining and informative. Brilliant.

Even "American Chopper" is good, for the superb skills that those bike-builders display. It's also consoling to see that yours isn't the only dysfunctional family in the world.

So last night, I sat down to watch a new series on Channel 5. "Classic Car Rescue" it was called, and the first car featured was an E-Type Jaguar. Sounds too good to miss.

Dear God.

Where do I begin? Let's start with the presenters. The first was a shaven-headed cockney geezer whose major skills on his CV obviously included (or maybe even fully comprised) "shouting a lot". No other skills were evident during the whole programme.

The second presenter was an American off "Chop Shop" or "Chip Shop" or Crap Shop" or something, who had even less skills than shouty bloke.

After looking at a couple of half-decent motors, shouty bloke bought this absolute shed, for 12 grand. I kid you not, even the rats were objecting at any prospect of inhabiting this classic accommodation. It only ran on 5 cylinders. It was minging. Also, it was the least desirable - a Mk 2 4.2, with auto box. And it was a 2+2 coupe. With a 1970's aftermarket removable glass sunroof.

Back to the workshop, where they start it up and end up choking in the smoke from the exhaust. This was apparently due to american bloke putting too much oil in the carburettor dashpots. Aye right.

There was also a brief mention of "repairing a piston" but without any signs of engine dismantling. Chewing gum through the plug hole, maybe. Anyway, suddenly the car's not smoking anymore.

The other mechanical repairs necessary were apparently a new bit of exhaust, and a shock absorber. These they found in a skip full of second-hand (i.e. rusty scrap) parts. The exhaust looked like it would fit a Morris Minor, and the shock absorber could have fitted anything. They tested it thoroughly by putting one end against the skip and leaning shouty bloke's carcass against it, and since it didn't immediately collapse, it was deemed fit for purpose.

So with the full mechanical restoration completed, it was on to the paint. They stripped off all the old paint "with a grinder" according to American bloke.

At this point, I had to go for a pee, and when I came back, I thought the cat had changed the channel, and I was watching Tommy Walsh screeding a new floor in somebody's kitchen. But no, this was them applying body filler. To the whole car. Yes, not just little bits, the whole car, front, back, sides and roof. They then sanded this down, and primed and painted it. It looked nice.

Then American bloke displayed his only skill thus far, by reversing the freshly-painted car into a strategically placed engine on a hoist, and stove all the back wing in. Painty bloke had been up all night so told him where to "poke it", while another of the team strolled off to extend the cement mixer hire for another day, so they could mix another batch of body filler.

Miraculously, the dent and paint were sorted by the following day. Good news.

Shouty Bloke and American bloke had made up by this time, so spent a lovely day or two re-trimming the interior.

So far, they said, they had spent £20,000 - that's £12,000 for the car, £6,400 on the restoration (this is apparently the cost of 6 blokes working flat out for 4 weeks) plus sundries including cement mixer hire. They thought the car was now worth much more.

At this point they wheeled in an "expert" to value the car. This man deals with Jaguars day in, day out, and has "many famous clients".

Dear God (again).

They only ever showed him from the waist up, probably, I suspect, because they didn't want anybody to see the comedian who had his hand up his arse, to make his lips move. He wandered round the car with a clip board (didn't look underneath it at all as far as I could see, there was no shite on the knees of his pinstripe suit) and then proclaimed a value of… wait for it… £30,000!

Bear in mind, it's still the least desirable - a Mk 2 4.2, with auto box. And it's still a 2+2 coupe. And still with a 1970's aftermarket removable glass sunroof.

I wouldn't have given them the £12,000 they paid for it in the first place. At least then, it only needed a restoration, now it needs a complete rebuild AND another pile of work to get the body properly straight and remove all that filler.

Rather than try to sell it though (which would show its true value) they decided to give it way in a competition, at £1.50 a call. See, that's clever… if you can get 20,000 mugs to call in, you've made your profit AND got rid of the shiteheap you've just created. Genius.

I'll pass.

The sad thing is, though, that loads of people will no doubt be thinking that tarting up classic chicken sheds is a quick way to turn a profit, and no doubt other people will fall for it. Prices will increase and quality will plummet.

I am considering applying to Radio Times as a TV reviewer. I think there's a future there.

:: Wednesday, September 26, 2012 ::

Welcome to today's instalment of "The Victor Meldrew Chronicles".

I decided that I had better tell RBS Insurance what I intend to do about the accident repair to the Lexus. Let's not mess around with the various departments again though, let's fire this off to the Chief Executive again. So I sent him this email:

Dear Mr Geddes

I refer to my email to you on 12 July, which was being dealt with first by xxxxxxxx, and then by xxxxxxxxxxxx in your Customer Relations. She has dealt with my complaint very efficiently, and I have to thank her for her assistance in getting the original garage, UK Assistance in Glasgow, to pay any attention.

Rather than set out a long history of this, here's the beef:

(i) Privilege did not offer me a choice of repair garages, nor did they make it clear that they were effectively channeling business to another RBS business. I was misled.

(ii) The car has now been returned to them 4 times now since the original repair. Yes, that's 5 attempts in total to get it right. And each time it has come back with the same number of faults at it had when it went in - some of them unfixed, some of them new faults that have appeared while in their care.

(iii) When I complained at first (before I wrote to you) Privilege sent out their own "independent" engineer to inspect the vehicle. That "independent" engineer has a UK Assist email address. It is difficult to see how his "independence" can possibly be in my best interests.

(iv) When the car was returned last time (on 21 July), it had 2 main defects:

(a) The car had been polished, but very very badly. This had been pointed out to them on each occasion before, and had largely been eliminated, but had recurred on this final attempt. The result was a "swirly" finish that was evident in sunlight (and evident to me before the car was even unloaded from the lorry delivering it back to me, despite UK Assist having supposedly "quality-checked" it in detail before releasing it).

(b) the second defect, which has been there throughout, was that areas of the new paint had an "orange peel" effect. This can be caused by various faults in surface preparation or workmanship, including applying too much paint too thickly, or applying too much lacquer too thickly. I had pointed this out on every occasion the car had been returned, and to the "independent" engineer above, AND to an employee of UK Assist who had been sent out separately to sort one of the original defects. And yet still, I get it back each time, exactly the same.

(v) After that last attempt, when the car was returned to me on 21 July, I was understandably not too happy. xxxxxxxxxxx made that clear to UK Assist, and their manager put me in touch with a car detailer (that's a polisher in real English) to meet on "a sunny day" when these swirl marks would be most obvious.

Unfortunately, we're in Scotland during the wettest summer on record since Noah was a boy, so sunny days have not been too frequent. However, we agreed to meet on 9 August, when the weather forecast was good.

Unfortunately, my wife died that morning, so I had other things on my mind, so told the valeter we would have to leave it for a bit. I think we are now out of "sunny days" for this year though.

Confession time. My aim in meeting the valeter wasn't to sort the swirl marks - it was mainly to get him to start polishing out the orange peel effect. When (not if, but when) he realised that they won't polish out, I intended to return to UK Assist to ask what they proposed to do now. You don't need a "sunny day" to see the orange peel - it's obvious.

I also know an independent body shop specialist. A proper one - the grandson of the man who started the business 100 years ago, building bodies on to the earliest car chassis, or on to horse-drawn trailers. He's a friend, but probably not as close to me as your "independent engineer" is to UK Assist. He spotted these paint faults before I even told him the car had been in an accident. That's how obviously substandard the paint job is.

However, life is, as I have become aware, all too short, and I am not wasting any more of mine, trying to get any sense out of UK Assist. I wouldn't trust them to paint my house number on my wheely bin, far less achieve a decent finish on a car. At least the chimps on the PG Tips adverts were entertaining. I can only suggest that they should seek sponsorship from Specsavers.

Where does that leave me? I'm not giving the car back to UK Assist. That is a definite. Not a chance. I can almost live with it as it is, if I half-close my eyes when I walk up to it. God only knows how it might come back next time.

If I get it repaired elsewhere, I can foresee disputes between two garages in the event of any future problem, negating any future benefits of the "5-year repair guarantee" (5 minutes would be an improvement on their current capability). That's not an option either.

My only option, it would appear, is to accept the repair as it is now. It looks fine when it's raining - partly because the rain hides the paint finish, and partly because you don't want to stand around in the rain, looking at it. It also looks fine when it's dirty, so as long as I don't wash it, it'll be fine. I'm sure. Yes, it will be.

UK Assist are very lucky boys. I can't even be bothered starting a "name and shame" campaign. Despite their incompetence and indifference, and downright lies, they are off the hook. For the moment.

I am still considering contacting the FSA, given UK Insurance's previous record and fine, for failing to deal with (or in some cases, even fully disclose) customer complaints. The lesson hasn't been learnt, apparently.

Nevertheless, following this experience, and the indifference originally demonstrated by both Privilege and UK Assist, I will not be renewing my insurance with any RBS insurance group company next year, unless the premium is "zero" and that's as likely as, well, something extremely unlikely (like a decent paint finish out of UK Assist Glasgow, for example). Please ensure that there is no mention, in the renewal notice, of "auto-renew" in any shape or form. To be clear, I will not be calling to cancel any "auto-renew by default". If the policy is automatically renewed against this specific instruction, UK Insurance or whichever of their subsidiaries will refund me the whole premium plus another 100% of that premium as compensation. I cannot make that any clearer (well I can but I'm being polite).

Thanks once again to xxxxxxxx for her help. Unfortunately, even she is ultimately reliant on the people at the local customer-facing end, and they are simply not capable of providing any acceptable level of customer service.

Kind Regards

:: Saturday, September 29, 2012 ::

Well, today's the day. I am up early to sort out the Cerbera's papers, log book etc, and then it's off to the dealer I go.

Of course, now that it knows this might be the last time I drive it, it performs faultlessly. I complete the journey in just over 2 hours, because it's too early for the dozy-headed to be up and about.

He has a look at the car and then we talk money - a range, depending whether he buys the car outright, or sells it on my behalf. While he could never be accused of misplaced philanthropy, his offers aren't bad. I leave the car with him, so that he can hoist it on the ramps on Monday and have the lads give it the once-over. That will let him finalise his offer. If he finds anything serious, I'll be asking why it wasn't spotted when they serviced it.

So it's home on the train, and wait and see..

The next question is - "Will I replace it, and if so, then what with?" I honestly don't know - I want to enjoy the S on any half-decent days before winter, and then get the poor wee car tidied up. It needs a repair to the fuel tank cradle, and a bit of repainting around the front of the chassis. I might also put those new bonnet hinges on while I'm at it, eh?

In the meantime, my TV review the other day, of the "Classic Car Rescue" of the E-Type Jaguar, has received rave reviews (well, two). I think I might do more of those… Monday's episode is about the Porsche 911 (or "Porker nahn-levaan" as Shouty Bloke will no doubt say) so I might sacrifice another evening to watch it.

I've also decided that the story of the Lexus justifies its own page, rather than being spread out through the diaries. So you'll see a new heading for the Lexus Repair Page over there on the left. Apart from anything else, it makes it easier for me to guide the insurance company to find it, as a handy contemporaneous record of why I am so pissed off. I might not have been entirely convinced by my own resignation not to "name and shame".

Hope my advertisers aren't upset. Oh wait, I don't have any.