Closing a door

Righty ho

Where was I ? Well probably galloping up insanity drive fastened loosely to a horse with a rather silly ( and I dare say mad ) expression affixed to it’s face, what is more is I bet that home-base would sell the appropriate fasteners to attach the maddened look to the horses fizog ( read face ) whilst still not carrying a variety of four mil rivets.

Whoops, evidently it is time for my medication

So, I wait for a little while, and also shop around until I find someone that is willing to sell me a brand spanking new carburettor device thingy. I can’t remember who I ordered it off eventually, but figuring that the repair kit, whilst only costing ΒΌ of the final price might not actually solve the problem it seemed a prudent step to bit the bullet and buy a completely new unit with all the shiny goodness that comes with it.

The new Zenith carburettor arrives, and by golly what a shiny beastie it is, I’m partly loathe to fit it if only because it’ll get mucky. The simple fact that it will quite simply put the rest of the lurkins under the bonnet to shame is purely besides the point. Anyhow, with a new carb in tow, the completed, shinified and lovingly re-riveted ( with the correct size rivets which home-smegging-stinking-rasen-faten-grr-arrghh-base didn’t sell, perhaps I need more of that medication ) back door safely nesting in the boot ( underneath a nice old airbed to make sure that it didn’t get damaged, see I really did care about it ;) ) I pop round to Susan’s to fit said items, admittedly this could well have been done in the street, but my public car fixing desires got kinda dampened in the place with the squeaky population ( Harlow ) and to be honest, the people round here think I’m mad enough as it is…

So round at Ian’s ( I really should stop calling him Susan ) I get to marvel at the lovely and spectacularly shiny goodness that is Ian’s newly stripped, bored (?), balanced and generally pratted about with 2 litre engine, which is sat in a variety of bits on a variety of benches. Very shiny a thing it is too.

Anyhow, fitting the back door and gawping at Ian’s engine are reasonably straight forward, and allow the engine to cool down a little. I also fit the remote control antennae ( CB Ariel ) to the back, for that true Low-Roofed-Car-Park-Dodgem appeal. To my surprise, the carb is actually a doddle to fit. Four non-rusted bolts, a little bit of cardboard and a screw or two later and the engine is once again purring away, and touch wood (or conveniently placed wooden noggin ( head )) seems to have cured the staling problem. The manual that came with the card declared it to be pre-adjusted for an engine in ” good working order &qhot;, so when it doesn’t seem to need adjusting I start feeling a little happier and even internally smug that I have an engine in good working order.

In final desperation I finally decide to do something about the spare wheel, which has been bouncing around in the boot since I took the old door off about a year ago. It’s reasonably well wedged in, but is making life annoying and taking up a lot of space. Ian is unwilling to build a pivlock for me, especially since this is approaching tea time and he doesn’t want to get his new engine covered in iron fillings. So we go for the simplistic solution of making some longer bolts and putting the old rubber rhino horn back onto the bonnet (could that have sounded dodgier?) Tada, most jobs finished ( with the fine exception of fixing my blooming windscreen wipers, for which I seem to be missing a bit, despite having ordered it on several occasions ) and ready for the upcoming activities which are the “Callander” RTV, driving day and social do in several days / weeks ( I dunno, whatever it was ) time.

Callander was actually quite fun, although I won’t go into too much detail here since Petro spent most of it parked alongside my tent looking, well turquoise :o) The Saturday was the usual RTV concept and due to my insane bout of abject cowardice ( which shows no signs of departing ) I start marshal it rather than competing. I have no great trouble with making a complete tit of myself, it’s just I can do that at work and so would rather not do it at weekends too ;o)

Sunday however was a general playday and I did (for want of a better word for it) drive around the course a few times. I really must remember that Petro with the SATs on will get to places where a lot of other vehicles would get stuck. It will certainly get to some places where, in hindsight I’d rather it not have gotten to. Suffice is to say that diagonally down a steep hill is always entertaining, not quite so when you forgot to put the seatbelt on and can only see a looooong drop and a loch ahead in the direction you are inadvertently travelling in. Still, low box first seemed to get me to the bottom without mishap. I don’t claim to speak 2/1/4 but I was fairly sure that the tone mid hill was “that’s not good, I’m not happy”