Kermit and co - the Pub2Pub TVR, and other steeds.
Discussion
Mezzanine said:
I have completely missed this post despite being on here for years.
What a great original road trip, what a car!
Thanks Mezzanine - to be fair, I'm easy to miss, I really should update this thread more often...What a great original road trip, what a car!
And on that note, it's time for an update on the Volvo. In which coincidently, I've just covered 925 miles in, across 5 countries, in 22 hours. I'm pretty sure that's a new personal record...
The reason for said mileage? Well, with one last European tour to run this year, I was in need of a support vehicle. Now normally, the TVR would be the default choice but unfortunately, after 5,000 spirited European miles in the past few months, the TVR is being somewhat demanding right now, and a spot of winter maintenance is very much needed. So, the Volvo stood in, all set to chase a convoy of (mostly) TVRs across Europe to the far side of Germany and back, carrying all the Blackpool spares and tools I could muster...
And so I spent last week ragging my 34 year old Volvo 240 around Europe, in pursuit of a group of sports cars sporting, on average, three times the power. A recipe for problems? Not at all. As it always has done, the Volvo took everything in its stride and remained completely reliable, so much so that in 3,300 miles there wasn't so much as a need to open the bonnet. Though the boot was needed on one occasion, for the spare wheel and the trolley jack - a puncture at the start of the Alpenstrasse saw to that.
And the TVRs, and other assorted steeds? Virtually no issues either, so the bootload of kit wasn't remotely needed... still, better safe than sorry.
I'm now back in the UK following that 925 mile drive back from Bavaria, and so thoughts turn to what work the various cars will need over the winter. The TVR needs outriggers and some other TLC, the Volvo will almost certainly need a bit of welding in addition to the yearly service, and as for the Mini - well there has been a bit of progress there since the last update, which I'll cover in the next post.
So, about the Mini...
it's now been 18 months since I posted an update on Daisy, the 1974 Mini 998, which I've now owned for 15 years. And which, to my shame, has been off the road for 13 of them...
In that last update, I'd begun getting stuck into cutting out the rust and replacing it with solid metal. And as anyone who's taken on such a task on a 1970s British Leyland classic will tell you, that's certainly not the work of a moment. In fact, it ultimately took nearly two years of on-off work before I had the body 100% solid. A long time, in anyone's book, but worth it to me. Put it this way - when I started the project, I could barely weld. Now, well I'm by no means great at it, but I can certainly get by.
To recap, here's how the Mini looked when I first bought it back in 2007, for £650. Yep, a classic Mini with an MOT, for £650. Oh, I do miss 2007...
Now, after buying it, I put about 8,000 miles on the little car in the space of six months, mostly on spur-of-the-moment European trips, and after this it was starting to want for some TLC. I knew this mainly from the two pages of failures and the warning that it was dangerously unsafe, which greeted its first MOT in my ownership.
In a story which I'm sure will resonate with many car enthusiasts, having taken rather a liking to the Mini I soon decided to take it off the road for a month - maybe two - and tidy it up, fixing a few things along the way. That was back in 2009.
Rust was poked. parts dismantled. Panels removed. But ultimately, I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and my ability to bodge a car sufficiently to get it to the end of some overland adventure clearly didn't have much crossover into restoring a classic. Other big trips came and went, new cars appeared and were sold on, and the Mini ended up languishing in a barn, 20 miles from my house, half forgotten.
But then, the lockdowns began. Travel was off the radar, free time suddenly multiplied and it was time to get to work on Project Daisy. Here's what said project looked like when I first dragged it out of the barn:
As you can see, it looked the very definition of the abandoned project. Except now, it was no longer abandoned - cue the A-Team music...
...on loop...
...for the best part of two years...
...and the bodyshell was finally 100% solid. As it should be, as I'd estimate I had to cut out and replace around 1/4 of all the original metal - as demonstrated by the 'after' shot:
And with the sudden, glorious realisation that I no longer had to spend my weekends playing dodge the tetanus as I cut out and replaced the endless rust, there arose the question of paint. Firstly, what colour, and secondly, who'd be applying it?
To answer the second question first, I decided to have a go myself. There are several reasons for this, a big one being that as the bodyshell had seen so much work, it was never exactly going to be a show winner, so why throw thousands at a fancy paint job? Additional considerations were the fact that due to the previous few years, I didn't actually have thousands to throw around, and as with the welding and bodywork, my stubborn streak thought it was as good a time as any to learn.
So, what colour?
That particular decision has been the subject of countless hours of pub conversations over the past years, and the final choice came down to two options. Firstly, light blue with a red roof, and secondly... well, a picture is worth a thousand words, isn't it? So, here you go:
The colour goes by the snappy name of 'RAL 2011', and is pretty much the closest I could get to a '70s shade of Porsche Signal Orange without scaring the folks mixing the paint too much. It's certainly not a perfect paint job, by any means, but I'm glad I took on the task myself, as it's been a great learning experience, and I'm pretty happy with the result - good enough that it's not an embarrassment, while not being so good that I'd afraid to really use the car.
The paint went on in August, and progress on the Mini has slowed a little recently, thanks to September's Eagle Rally, and other commitments. However, as we roll on into winter, you can certainly expect some updates from the fun bit of the project - splashing out on shiny new parts, and putting it all back together...
it's now been 18 months since I posted an update on Daisy, the 1974 Mini 998, which I've now owned for 15 years. And which, to my shame, has been off the road for 13 of them...
In that last update, I'd begun getting stuck into cutting out the rust and replacing it with solid metal. And as anyone who's taken on such a task on a 1970s British Leyland classic will tell you, that's certainly not the work of a moment. In fact, it ultimately took nearly two years of on-off work before I had the body 100% solid. A long time, in anyone's book, but worth it to me. Put it this way - when I started the project, I could barely weld. Now, well I'm by no means great at it, but I can certainly get by.
To recap, here's how the Mini looked when I first bought it back in 2007, for £650. Yep, a classic Mini with an MOT, for £650. Oh, I do miss 2007...
Now, after buying it, I put about 8,000 miles on the little car in the space of six months, mostly on spur-of-the-moment European trips, and after this it was starting to want for some TLC. I knew this mainly from the two pages of failures and the warning that it was dangerously unsafe, which greeted its first MOT in my ownership.
In a story which I'm sure will resonate with many car enthusiasts, having taken rather a liking to the Mini I soon decided to take it off the road for a month - maybe two - and tidy it up, fixing a few things along the way. That was back in 2009.
Rust was poked. parts dismantled. Panels removed. But ultimately, I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and my ability to bodge a car sufficiently to get it to the end of some overland adventure clearly didn't have much crossover into restoring a classic. Other big trips came and went, new cars appeared and were sold on, and the Mini ended up languishing in a barn, 20 miles from my house, half forgotten.
But then, the lockdowns began. Travel was off the radar, free time suddenly multiplied and it was time to get to work on Project Daisy. Here's what said project looked like when I first dragged it out of the barn:
As you can see, it looked the very definition of the abandoned project. Except now, it was no longer abandoned - cue the A-Team music...
...on loop...
...for the best part of two years...
...and the bodyshell was finally 100% solid. As it should be, as I'd estimate I had to cut out and replace around 1/4 of all the original metal - as demonstrated by the 'after' shot:
And with the sudden, glorious realisation that I no longer had to spend my weekends playing dodge the tetanus as I cut out and replaced the endless rust, there arose the question of paint. Firstly, what colour, and secondly, who'd be applying it?
To answer the second question first, I decided to have a go myself. There are several reasons for this, a big one being that as the bodyshell had seen so much work, it was never exactly going to be a show winner, so why throw thousands at a fancy paint job? Additional considerations were the fact that due to the previous few years, I didn't actually have thousands to throw around, and as with the welding and bodywork, my stubborn streak thought it was as good a time as any to learn.
So, what colour?
That particular decision has been the subject of countless hours of pub conversations over the past years, and the final choice came down to two options. Firstly, light blue with a red roof, and secondly... well, a picture is worth a thousand words, isn't it? So, here you go:
The colour goes by the snappy name of 'RAL 2011', and is pretty much the closest I could get to a '70s shade of Porsche Signal Orange without scaring the folks mixing the paint too much. It's certainly not a perfect paint job, by any means, but I'm glad I took on the task myself, as it's been a great learning experience, and I'm pretty happy with the result - good enough that it's not an embarrassment, while not being so good that I'd afraid to really use the car.
The paint went on in August, and progress on the Mini has slowed a little recently, thanks to September's Eagle Rally, and other commitments. However, as we roll on into winter, you can certainly expect some updates from the fun bit of the project - splashing out on shiny new parts, and putting it all back together...
Well, it's certainly been a life-affirming month since the last update.
With the Mini painted, it's been so nice to finally be at the stage where no further bodywork needs to be done, and turn my attention to rummaging through the many boxes of parts which have been removed from the shell at various stages of the past decade. While a few parts are clearly missing (such as the exhaust manifold), most of the car appears to still be in my possession, and so a production line seems to have formed in the workshop, with various lumps of Mini being dug out of their respective boxes and either cast aside as they disintegrate to dust in my hands, or prepared to be put back on the car. For metal brackets and stuff, this generally entails being de-greased, de-rusted and then painted, while for other stuff, a good clean often seems to be sufficient.
It's most satisfying watching the car coming back together after so many years as a flat-packed abandoned project, even if it's mostly only cosmetic parts which have gone back onto the shell so far:
Roll on more of this kind of progress over the winter, as the project moves from the low-hanging fruit of cleaning up the pretty bits, to the more serious jobs, such as rebuilding the suspension on the subframes, and getting them onto the car, for instance...
With the Mini painted, it's been so nice to finally be at the stage where no further bodywork needs to be done, and turn my attention to rummaging through the many boxes of parts which have been removed from the shell at various stages of the past decade. While a few parts are clearly missing (such as the exhaust manifold), most of the car appears to still be in my possession, and so a production line seems to have formed in the workshop, with various lumps of Mini being dug out of their respective boxes and either cast aside as they disintegrate to dust in my hands, or prepared to be put back on the car. For metal brackets and stuff, this generally entails being de-greased, de-rusted and then painted, while for other stuff, a good clean often seems to be sufficient.
It's most satisfying watching the car coming back together after so many years as a flat-packed abandoned project, even if it's mostly only cosmetic parts which have gone back onto the shell so far:
Roll on more of this kind of progress over the winter, as the project moves from the low-hanging fruit of cleaning up the pretty bits, to the more serious jobs, such as rebuilding the suspension on the subframes, and getting them onto the car, for instance...
RC1807 said:
Ooh, I missed the previous Mini update. Good to see it's moving along.
I love the colour!
Thanks, yeah it's certainly not a subtle colour - it gives the Mini a definite presence, even sat in a dark workshop. Can't wait to see how it looks once it's finished and outside in the summer sun...I love the colour!
In other news, there's been some more progress to report - but in contrast to the last few posts, it's mostly painted black, and hidden under the back of the car. Yep, the rear subframe is now rebuilt and fitted.
I was in two minds as to whether to re-use the old subframe, or buy a new one, but as I stripped down the old one, my thoughts tended to err more and more towards splashing the cash, as it was fairly rusty in places, not to mention absolutely filthy. You can get an idea for the state the car's rear end was in from these 'before' photos:
Given the year-and-a-half of on and off effort which I'd put into getting the car's topsides shiny, things certainly weren't going to stay this way, and a snapped subframe mounting stud, sustained in the course of dissasembley finally made the decision for me - a new subframe it would be. Powdercoated, too. Fancy.
Given I want the end result of this project to be dependable on highways near and far, for years to come, the list of new parts stretched long beyond just the subframe, and included, off the top of my head:
Rubber suspension doughnuts
Hi-Lo suspension cones
Dampers
All rigid and flexy brake lines
Fuel line and battery cable
Handbrake cables
And a selection of bushes and bolts
Here are the results:
The way it's coming together, it's almost going to be a shame to take this thing out on the muddy roads of Devon once it's finished...
Sometimes, you just have to get out there and take a proper drive...
Last weekend, I headed up from Devon to the Classic Motor Show, at Birmingham's NEC. And, after two days of wandering the endless acres of polished metal, I felt rather inspired to hit the road for a while. And so, on Monday, we pointed the Volvo's bluff nose northward and plotted a scenic route across the Peak District, Forest of Bowland and Yorkshire Dales, to the highest pub in the UK - the Tan Hill Inn, 1,734 feet above sea level.
With a room booked there, we settled down next to the fire in the bar, and considered what to do the following day, and decided that the only rational course of action was to head from the highest bar in the country, to (arguably) the best - the Clachaig Inn, in Glencoe. And so we did, with the continuous low cloud which we experienced on the first day being replaced with continuous driving rain - such are the rewards of the November road tripper. However, it can be argued that a night in the Clachaig can solve any problem, and so it was with the weather, our third day on the road being greeted with, frankly, perfection.
With the sun shining, we abandoned our wet weather plan of carrying on north to the UK's most remote pub (the Old Forge, at Inverie), and instead spent the day enjoying the delightful roads and perfect scenery around Glencoe, taking in the excellent B-road to Kinlochleven, the poignant memorial at Speen Bridge, the celebrated view of Buachaille Etive Mor from Rannoch Mor, and despairing at the fact that the Nevisport Cafe in Fort William wasn't open. Oh, and we met a local, too:
Rising early, we left Glencoe in darkness on Thursday, and the Volvo spent the next twelve hours battling through the smothering spray and weather warnings as we headed south, back to Devon, arriving just fine after the impromptu 1,200 mile trip, taking in everything the British climate could conjure up for us.
And already, thoughts have turned to a similar post-NEC trip next year...
Last weekend, I headed up from Devon to the Classic Motor Show, at Birmingham's NEC. And, after two days of wandering the endless acres of polished metal, I felt rather inspired to hit the road for a while. And so, on Monday, we pointed the Volvo's bluff nose northward and plotted a scenic route across the Peak District, Forest of Bowland and Yorkshire Dales, to the highest pub in the UK - the Tan Hill Inn, 1,734 feet above sea level.
With a room booked there, we settled down next to the fire in the bar, and considered what to do the following day, and decided that the only rational course of action was to head from the highest bar in the country, to (arguably) the best - the Clachaig Inn, in Glencoe. And so we did, with the continuous low cloud which we experienced on the first day being replaced with continuous driving rain - such are the rewards of the November road tripper. However, it can be argued that a night in the Clachaig can solve any problem, and so it was with the weather, our third day on the road being greeted with, frankly, perfection.
With the sun shining, we abandoned our wet weather plan of carrying on north to the UK's most remote pub (the Old Forge, at Inverie), and instead spent the day enjoying the delightful roads and perfect scenery around Glencoe, taking in the excellent B-road to Kinlochleven, the poignant memorial at Speen Bridge, the celebrated view of Buachaille Etive Mor from Rannoch Mor, and despairing at the fact that the Nevisport Cafe in Fort William wasn't open. Oh, and we met a local, too:
Rising early, we left Glencoe in darkness on Thursday, and the Volvo spent the next twelve hours battling through the smothering spray and weather warnings as we headed south, back to Devon, arriving just fine after the impromptu 1,200 mile trip, taking in everything the British climate could conjure up for us.
And already, thoughts have turned to a similar post-NEC trip next year...
993kimbo said:
Great thread, nicely written and interesting.
Thanks Kimbo, I'm glad you approve.In other news, Saturday saw a definite step in the right direction as far as the project car is concerned - I headed over to Dorset to collect a new engine, in the closest thing I could find to a van:
After standing for over a decade, my Mini's original engine is well and truly seized, so I've opted for the easy option, buying in a recently-rebuilt 998cc A-Series, which handily came with many of the ancillaries I'd need to source to get the car running, too - things like the alternator, coil, distributor, HIF44 carb, etc.
The plan is to get it into the car and get it running, before swapping on a larger valved, stage 3 head which I've had sitting around awaiting just this moment. It will also be getting a cooling system upgrade with the two core radiator which I've had awaiting the Mini's reassembly. But first, I'll be cleaning the block up and giving it a lick of paint so it doesn't let the rest of the car down, and there's also the small matter of getting the car to the stage where it'll be ready to have the motor fitted.
So yeah, that's my winter entertainment sorted...
It's been a few months since the last update, so it's time to start bringing this up to date. And predictably, when it comes to the last months of 2022, it's pretty much all about the Mini.
I say pretty much, as there have been a few other occurrences involving other members of the fleet, such as the Volvo passing its forth MOT in my ownership just before Christmas, but really, that's not even on the radar compared to the progress the Mini has seen. Firstly, it now has an engine:
After collecting the replacement engine, I'd spent a few days cleaning it up and painting it in the traditional British Leyland green, before the moment of truth - seeing whether it'd fit. It turned out any worries there were completely unfounded, however, as it slotted in easily and only ten minutes after starting, I was fiddling in the small four bolts which secure the engine mountings to the subframe. Which took over an hour, because these jobs are never completely plain sailing...
With the engine sitting in roughly the right place, it was time to get everything else fitted around it, and given the simplicity of a Mini, even with my general lack of experience in such things, it was only a few days in the workshop before I was ready for the big moment: trying to start the thing.
I say 'trying', as it wasn't like it usually is on Youtube. The motor didn't fire on the first turn of the key, resulting in high fives and an early trip to the pub. It took several hours to coax it to life. I flattened the battery getting fuel through the lines. I managed to flood it and had to dry out the plugs. There were vacuum leaks on the carb I had to fix. And eventually, it was only with the assistance of a can of easy-start that it spluttered into life. But soon, it was idling away happily, and was firing up instantly on the turn of the key.
From having no engine, to purring sweetly in only a few days work - those days in late November were certainly satisfying.
And another satisfying day was approaching - the first drive. In the event, this moment in early December was almost an anti-climax. with everything checked over, I simply got in and drove it around the carpark by the workshop. No drama, no smoke or wheelspin or doughnuts, just a two minute drive around the place. With no windows or bonnet or bumpers. And almost no brakes. More bleeding needed...
With a car that now starts and moves, I've been continuing with the reassembly, and it's now very close to completion. Roll on the open road later in the year...
I say pretty much, as there have been a few other occurrences involving other members of the fleet, such as the Volvo passing its forth MOT in my ownership just before Christmas, but really, that's not even on the radar compared to the progress the Mini has seen. Firstly, it now has an engine:
After collecting the replacement engine, I'd spent a few days cleaning it up and painting it in the traditional British Leyland green, before the moment of truth - seeing whether it'd fit. It turned out any worries there were completely unfounded, however, as it slotted in easily and only ten minutes after starting, I was fiddling in the small four bolts which secure the engine mountings to the subframe. Which took over an hour, because these jobs are never completely plain sailing...
With the engine sitting in roughly the right place, it was time to get everything else fitted around it, and given the simplicity of a Mini, even with my general lack of experience in such things, it was only a few days in the workshop before I was ready for the big moment: trying to start the thing.
I say 'trying', as it wasn't like it usually is on Youtube. The motor didn't fire on the first turn of the key, resulting in high fives and an early trip to the pub. It took several hours to coax it to life. I flattened the battery getting fuel through the lines. I managed to flood it and had to dry out the plugs. There were vacuum leaks on the carb I had to fix. And eventually, it was only with the assistance of a can of easy-start that it spluttered into life. But soon, it was idling away happily, and was firing up instantly on the turn of the key.
From having no engine, to purring sweetly in only a few days work - those days in late November were certainly satisfying.
And another satisfying day was approaching - the first drive. In the event, this moment in early December was almost an anti-climax. with everything checked over, I simply got in and drove it around the carpark by the workshop. No drama, no smoke or wheelspin or doughnuts, just a two minute drive around the place. With no windows or bonnet or bumpers. And almost no brakes. More bleeding needed...
With a car that now starts and moves, I've been continuing with the reassembly, and it's now very close to completion. Roll on the open road later in the year...
Cambs_Stuart said:
Brilliant cars and really entertaining thread. One of the first family cars I remember was a brown mini. There were body sections that I could poke a finger through. When we moved to Scotland I came with us on the train.
Thanks Stuart, I'm glad you're enjoying the read. It sounds like your family mini was very similar to mine, circa 2008 - brown and rather crusty, but still soldiering on...As this thread has been very much focussed on the Mini recently, it's probably a good time to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. I currently have four old cars knocking around the place, in various states of roadworthyness. But, with the Mini now capable of being driven, for the first time in twelve years all the cars in my ownership are capable of starting and moving. If that's not an excuse to seize a break in the rain and get the lot of them together to mark the occasion with a few photos, I don't know what is...
So, a Micra, a Mini, a TVR and an ovloV - it's not quite the fleet I dreamed of owning back in my teenage years, but it kinda works for me. Here's the current status of each member of this eclectic collection:
The Micra first. While technically mine, this is a pool car which I share with two friends, meaning we have a cheap runabout if our regular cars decide not to proceed, we need to take some rubbish to the tip, or we want to save some pennies on fuel. I was given it by my sister last may, after it had failed the MOT due to corrosion in the sills. A day with the welder got it through a retest, and it's been knocking around ever since. We've often discussed giving it a mongol rally-style overland makeover, by adding a roof rack and spotlights, and maybe lifting the suspension, but so far nothing has happened. Maybe in 2023... or maybe we'll sell it on, and get something completely different as a pool car. Because variety is the spice of life, after all.
Now, the Mini. That's already been covered pretty well in this thread, but suffice to say, it's currently on the verge of being fully roadworthy, and I'm looking forward to using it in the spring, hopefully kicking off with a trip to France at Easter.
The TVR is currently SORNed. It's awaiting its turn with the welder, as the outriggers now - finally - need changing. I guess driving it across those flooded salt flats in Bolivia in 2018 had some consequences, after all. Once the Mini is done I'll be tackling this, and hope to have it back on the road with an MOT before the clocks change, all ready for a fun summer.
And finally, the Volvo. This is rapidly approaching its fifth year as my daily driver, and it continues to do the job very well. It's spacious, comfortable and relatively safe, while still being an interesting classic which seems to receive as many positive comments as the TVR. In the current cold weather, the heated seats and furnace-like heater are most welcome, while its dependability has been well-proven over the years. But, five years. That's a long time to be dailying the same car, and there's a part of me that fancies a change. So, most likely, it won't still be in my ownership come the end of the year. But what to replace it with? I don't know. But there are worse ways to pass the evenings than browsing the classifieds for potential replacements...
...because everything's better with a supercharger, right?
With the Mini now rust free, painted and coming back together nicely, it's time to start making some of the modifications which I've always had in mind for it. And the first of these is a supercharger. Because for over a decade now, I've loved the gloriously, pointlessly daft idea of a one-litre, supercharged Mini.
The 'charger is an Eaton 45, as fitted to some new (well, near twenty year old now) Minis, and comes as part of a kit made by a company called Vmaxscart. It's fitted with a dcoe 40 carburettor, and I've matched it to a bigger-valved, 'stage 3' cylinder head which I've had sat on the shelf for years, waiting for just this moment.
The installation is now 90% complete, with just some fiddling with the fuelling and carb connections still to do. So all going well, the first fire-up will be happening soon, and it won't be long until there's a bright orange, 650kg, supercharged one-litre Mini blasting around the backroads of Devon...
With the Mini now rust free, painted and coming back together nicely, it's time to start making some of the modifications which I've always had in mind for it. And the first of these is a supercharger. Because for over a decade now, I've loved the gloriously, pointlessly daft idea of a one-litre, supercharged Mini.
The 'charger is an Eaton 45, as fitted to some new (well, near twenty year old now) Minis, and comes as part of a kit made by a company called Vmaxscart. It's fitted with a dcoe 40 carburettor, and I've matched it to a bigger-valved, 'stage 3' cylinder head which I've had sat on the shelf for years, waiting for just this moment.
The installation is now 90% complete, with just some fiddling with the fuelling and carb connections still to do. So all going well, the first fire-up will be happening soon, and it won't be long until there's a bright orange, 650kg, supercharged one-litre Mini blasting around the backroads of Devon...
Moving away from the supercharged Mini-based anticipation, here's a quick blast from the past. It seems that five years ago this week, I was driving the TVR across the Salar de Uyuni salt flats, in Bolivia:
Which reminds me, I really must sort those rusty outriggers. These two things may or may not be related...
Which reminds me, I really must sort those rusty outriggers. These two things may or may not be related...
This week, I finally drove it.
With the restoration complete and the supercharger installed and running well, a few days ago my '74 Mini left the workshop and actually headed out onto the road. This is the first time in 12 years it's actually taken to the tarmac, and it represents the culmination of over two years of effort getting things to this stage.
The drive wasn't exactly an epic one, being a simple 25 mile cruise through the Devon countryside from my workshop, back to my home. But given what it's taken to make it happen, it was certainly memorable. And luckily, the car rose to the occasion, and behaved itself throughout. Nothing fell off, caught fire, leaked or overheated. It just did what was asked of it - just with a rather better turn of speed than I remember it having before. And rather less refinement than I'm used to from my other cars - zero soundproofing, a bouncy ride and an engine which is already hitting 3,200 RPM by the time you get to 50 in top gear sees to that.
The plan is now to give the Mini a very thorough check-over following its drive, before continuing to build up the miles, and gain confidence in its reliability. And with spring just around the corner, there couldn't be a better time for it...
With the restoration complete and the supercharger installed and running well, a few days ago my '74 Mini left the workshop and actually headed out onto the road. This is the first time in 12 years it's actually taken to the tarmac, and it represents the culmination of over two years of effort getting things to this stage.
The drive wasn't exactly an epic one, being a simple 25 mile cruise through the Devon countryside from my workshop, back to my home. But given what it's taken to make it happen, it was certainly memorable. And luckily, the car rose to the occasion, and behaved itself throughout. Nothing fell off, caught fire, leaked or overheated. It just did what was asked of it - just with a rather better turn of speed than I remember it having before. And rather less refinement than I'm used to from my other cars - zero soundproofing, a bouncy ride and an engine which is already hitting 3,200 RPM by the time you get to 50 in top gear sees to that.
The plan is now to give the Mini a very thorough check-over following its drive, before continuing to build up the miles, and gain confidence in its reliability. And with spring just around the corner, there couldn't be a better time for it...
Throughout most of the twelve years in which the Mini has been off the road, my friends always doubted that it would ever see the road again. The amount of work needing doing was so great, and my skill levels were so unequal to it, that the general consensus was that it'd never drive again. I lost count of the number of times the subject was dismissed with comments along the lines of 'it's never gonna happen', when brought up in the pub.
Because of this, since the early days of the restoration, I'd always planned for the Mini's first drive-out to be to the curiously-named Who'd Have Thought It Inn, near Plymouth. Because, well, who'd have thought it would ever see tarmac again?
An added complication to this plan came about last summer, when I discovered that for reasons unknown, there were actually two pubs named the Who'd Have Thought It to the north of Plymouth, with a rural half-hour drive between them. Now, I'm rather partial to driving from pub to pub, so it was obvious what the Mini's first drive would now be - a loop up out of Plymouth, taking in both bars.
This Sunday, in frankly atrocious weather, we did just that.
The first Who'd Have Thought It is located in the village of Milton Combe, tucked away in deep valley in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles north of the city. It's a fine traditional venue, stretching over several rooms, warmed by woodburner and watched over by a fine array of taxidermy, and I can certainly recommend the Sunday roast, if you're passing. Oh, and the carpark is a decent size, too, and based on Sunday's clientele, not somewhere you'll easily lose a bright orange Mini:
From the Devon pub to it's namesake in Cornwall, it's a 13 mile crawl along mostly single track lanes, and as such represented a good workout for the recently assembled Mini.
Daisy the Mini came through it perfectly well, however, and I'm gradually getting used to the total lack of refinement, and the lack of a break servo which means stopping is a somewhat more physical undertaking than I've been used to recently.
The Cornish Who'd Have Thought It is a rather more sprawling affair, with plenty of dining space, but retains the cosy, woodburner atmosphere around the bar. And it takes the taxidermy game up to another level, with this fine specimen:
Because let's face it, if a pub doesn't have a bespecticled, top hat-wearing boar above the fireplace, is it even trying?!
Following a coffee in pub number two, the rain was coming down in torrents, and it was time to head back to the city. Again, the newly rebuilt Mini coped just fine with this, with the only big item on the 'to do' list being to get the carb set up properly, as it's still running rather rich on the cruise. But as setting this up will require some more test drives out in the Devon countryside, this isn't exactly a hardship. After all, there are plenty more pubs out there...
Because of this, since the early days of the restoration, I'd always planned for the Mini's first drive-out to be to the curiously-named Who'd Have Thought It Inn, near Plymouth. Because, well, who'd have thought it would ever see tarmac again?
An added complication to this plan came about last summer, when I discovered that for reasons unknown, there were actually two pubs named the Who'd Have Thought It to the north of Plymouth, with a rural half-hour drive between them. Now, I'm rather partial to driving from pub to pub, so it was obvious what the Mini's first drive would now be - a loop up out of Plymouth, taking in both bars.
This Sunday, in frankly atrocious weather, we did just that.
The first Who'd Have Thought It is located in the village of Milton Combe, tucked away in deep valley in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles north of the city. It's a fine traditional venue, stretching over several rooms, warmed by woodburner and watched over by a fine array of taxidermy, and I can certainly recommend the Sunday roast, if you're passing. Oh, and the carpark is a decent size, too, and based on Sunday's clientele, not somewhere you'll easily lose a bright orange Mini:
From the Devon pub to it's namesake in Cornwall, it's a 13 mile crawl along mostly single track lanes, and as such represented a good workout for the recently assembled Mini.
Daisy the Mini came through it perfectly well, however, and I'm gradually getting used to the total lack of refinement, and the lack of a break servo which means stopping is a somewhat more physical undertaking than I've been used to recently.
The Cornish Who'd Have Thought It is a rather more sprawling affair, with plenty of dining space, but retains the cosy, woodburner atmosphere around the bar. And it takes the taxidermy game up to another level, with this fine specimen:
Because let's face it, if a pub doesn't have a bespecticled, top hat-wearing boar above the fireplace, is it even trying?!
Following a coffee in pub number two, the rain was coming down in torrents, and it was time to head back to the city. Again, the newly rebuilt Mini coped just fine with this, with the only big item on the 'to do' list being to get the carb set up properly, as it's still running rather rich on the cruise. But as setting this up will require some more test drives out in the Devon countryside, this isn't exactly a hardship. After all, there are plenty more pubs out there...
Pub2Pub_Ben said:
Moving away from the supercharged Mini-based anticipation, here's a quick blast from the past. It seems that five years ago this week, I was driving the TVR across the Salar de Uyuni salt flats, in Bolivia:
Which reminds me, I really must sort those rusty outriggers. These two things may or may not be related...
Great pictures. I have been across the Salar de Uyuni but in a more normal mode of transport (Land Cruiser). Just stunning. Also been down the Death Road you mentioned as a passenger in a local public bus ... not for the faint hearted! 25 years ago now but that whole area is not a place you forget. Congratulations on such an epic road trip.Which reminds me, I really must sort those rusty outriggers. These two things may or may not be related...
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