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Long, long ago, when there was less bustle and more green, a fresh-faced young whippersnapper stepped from the ancestral home in Exeter and made his way with a spring in his step and a song on his lips to the bright lights and fleshpots of Denham, there to make bodyshells for the TX Tripper - these days a largely forgotten post-script to the Fairthorpe Sportscars story but back then a hip, groovy new thing (man).
29 years later, a stale-faced old git bearing the same name saw one advertised in a magazine and, pausing only to wind up his hi-tech clockwork Zimmer-frame, hurried out to claim this fragment of his lost youth. Folding-stuff changed hands and all that remained was to collect it. And that's where the story really begins... |
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(Shifts almost imperceptibly to the Present tense. Not to mention the tense Present)
In the absence of any vehicle with a tow-hitch, driving YYX 443 the 100-odd miles back to Addlestone from Bradwell-on-Sea was the only option - armed of course with: tow-rope, jump-leads and tool-boxes in the back of the support-vehicle; and mobile phone plus AA-card in the pocket of my flying-jacket as Plan B. In the event, astonishingly the drizzle stopped and the "trip" passed uneventfully, apart from my Glamorous Assistant treading on a loose slab in the vendor's yard, thereby taking on a bootful of rain-diluted horse-droppings. Oh, how we laughed. Well, I did anyway. Unsurprisingly, one or two previously unsuspected functional failings soon became apparent. The first of these made itself known after about a quarter of a mile, at the first filling-station. It seems that a previous owner had considered it a Good Idea to attach the present tail-lamp units with self-tapping screws, but had failed to notice - or care about - the petrol tank's proximity to the rear panel when drilling the holes; consequently it is presently Not A Good Idea to fill the tank right up... As it turned out, the fuel-gauge is the only "clock" working properly so I was able to keep an eye on that aspect of things anyway. The rest are: deranged (the Tachometer, veering from 1000 to 5000 rpm at constant road-speed...); bizarre (the Temperature gauge, whose needle doesn't move but the glass steams up, which I find rather charming); or dead. Those minor glitches notwithstanding, it drove and stopped reassuringly well and the Sunbeam Rapier engine didn't miss a beat so I am daring to be optimistic that it is reasonably well bolted together - not that that will stop me unbolting it as after 30 years of use, abuse and probably worse it is about due for a terrible looking-at. The wiring will be the among first things to be replaced: the existing stuff looks as though it is about to become a Random Smoke Generator. Later, I anticipate replacing the Sunbeam motor with something lighter and more recent and, I hope, rejuvenating the whole car if not myself. In any event, my mid-life crisis has now been officially confirmed with the arrival of a Little Red Sportscar. A hardtop was included in the deal but unfortunately there is presently no way to attach it to the car and it is too long to fit in the Cherokee support-vehicle, so another run up to Bradwell-Super-Mare is called for in the near future. To date I have not had time to assess my purchase in great detail as I made a quick visit to GB to collect it before returning to Germany the following day. However, I do know that it will require a replacement petrol-tank (see above!) and a soft-top (fat chance!). Progress can be viewed here as the work proceeds. Right. Now for the hard bit... |
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