What the Editor's been up to
The thoughts and experiences of Editor Tony Haycock over the past two months
Back to my motoring roots
On my way north to Americarna, I stopped for the evening at Nigel and Michelle Fraser’s in Opunake. During the day Nigel runs his Classic Auto Repaints business but in his spare time he looks after his ever increasing fleet of vintage Chevrolets.
I believe he may even be one of those responsible for my father being referred to as “God” among the vintage car fraternity in the area. Apparently when Nigel and mate Neil Carter were both restoring 1930 Chev. sedans, every time they rang looking for parts, they were told to bring a trailer as the required items were in the communal Chev. spares department. Equally, when questions about how things went together were raised, it seemed the answer was always just a phone call away to Bulls.
The last time I had stopped at Nigel’s, he had almost finished restoring a 1927 Chev. speedster. As my first car was a 1924 Chev, I have a real soft spot for the little Chev. 4 and as I was promised a drive of the newly completed car, it was logical I overnight there to talk old cars, take the speedster for a run and enjoy a beer. A calm summer Taranaki night in an open vintage car is close to heaven and with the exhaust routed to exit before the muffler, the little Chev. sounded like we were doing 100mph, even if we were in actual fact doing about half that.
Not that the car is slow, with the body consisting of a seat, petrol tank and not much else, along with the 2.8 litre OHV motor breathing through a three-port Oldsmobile head, the ultimate performance tweak to the Chev. 4 unless you could afford to go the while hog and put a Frontenac head on it. Ironic as Frontenac was the company formed by Louis Chevrolet and his brothers Arthur and Gaston following his split with Chevrolet Motor Company founder William C Durant, specialising in making go-faster goodies for Chevrolets, Fords and Whippets. That sort of thing was expensive in the 20s, today expensive doesn’t even begin to describe the price of genuine “Fronty” bits. Even the three-port Olds head is getting hard to find so Nigel was delighted to get one for his project.
In its heyday, a Chev. with an engine not a million miles different in spec. to this one, would be capable of 100mph on the beaches of Muriwai. Hanging on to one at that speed doesn’t bear thinking about especially when you consider that they only have two-wheel brakes, of the external-contracting type which stop working as soon as the linings get wet. Driving two-wheel braked cars on the roads of today requires a lot more concentration than normal and an ability to read the minds of drivers around you also helps… although often they have no bloody idea what they are doing, which makes predicting their sudden moves a little difficult!
In the morning Nigel suggested we swap cars. I would drive the speedster the ten miles or so into Opunake and Nigel would follow in the Durant. That sounded like a fair exchange to me. There are few better ways to wake up on a crisp morning than a blast in the open air, with the exhaust barking under your left shoulder, the exposed valve-gear chattering away up front and a light, lively car really enjoying fresh crisp air. By the time we got to Nigel’s workshop, I think we were both ready to keep each other’s cars.
I’ve found an easy way to de-rust things
Progress is being made with the new toy in the shed as the Queen’s Birthday Weekend deadline draws nearer. The springs had all been re-set and the bushes replaced sometime in the recent past, but it looks like the front ones had then spent some time in a very damp environment and after looking at them a few times I decided I couldn’t just leave them, they really needed to be pulled apart and checked. So… now I know exactly how the front end of a 1928 Renault comes apart and I am glad I do. When I pulled the leaves apart, the rust just fell out of them. This was going to be a dirty job with the wire brush.
Then by total coincidence, as I was looking at the rusty mess on my bench, I got a phone call from Adrian at Pure Impressions, wanting to tell me about some wonder rustre-moving product.
I have heard all those stories before but I agreed to have a listen to what he said. The sales pitch sounded good but then he had a better idea. He had the company product with him so when we came back to my place, he produced his bottle of CorrosionX, brushed it onto my very rusty springs, hosed it off and damn if clean steel didn’t appear underneath it!
The best bit was it doesn’t stink, you don’t even need gloves to put it on, and it does actually work. I am going to have to buy another bottle of it soon to do the inside of the mudguards – it beats the hell out of attacking things with the wire brush on an electric drill.
I also discovered I was missing one of the clamps which holds the manifold to the block. On a recent trip north I dropped off the one I did have to my brother in the hope he could find something similar. So I was a little surprised when I got a text from him a week later. A photo of a new clamp. And a short message “… 5 separate bits of steel 2 hours work on lathe. Should work.” Bloody hell, that wasn’t what I was expecting him to do… if for no better reason than he has a ’32 Chev pick-up to finish and work to do on my veteran Peugeot water-pump and rear suspension. I think I might need to apologise to his wife and children!
Southwards Museum open day
Continuing the drive back south, having swapped Durant for ute, it happened to coincide with the open day at Southwards Museum. I have to shamefully admit that while I drive past there probably once every six weeks on average, it would be at least 30 years since I last visited the place so this seemed like a good excuse to stop and take a look.
The open day was a huge success, the car park and grounds were packed with cars of every shape and size and there were people everywhere, both outside looking at the cars from the visiting car clubs, and inside checking out the exhibits and even more interesting, the workshop and some of the unrestored cars of the reserve collection.
Inside the museum I was amazed to find a Purvis Eureka, a car I had forgotten existed until a couple of months ago when I was talking to Bob Janek, the owner of the white Lotus Esprit in the last issue of Classic Driver. I wouldn’t call it a classic but one does need to be preserved as a monument to how horrible cars can really be!
In front of the workshop their almost completed Cord convertible was drawing a crowd. This is one very striking car and we will be featuring it in issue 55 of Classic Driver. Having a look through the shed with the “awaiting restoration” cars was the real treat. The highlight would have to be the very early 1920s Owen Magnetic, the world’s second petrol electric hybrid (the first being the Lohner-Porsche made from 1900 to 1905) with the front mounted petrol engine running a generator at the back of the crankshaft, providing power to an electric motor.
There is no physical connection between engine and transmission and the idea was to provide a smoother way to get a car in motion than the often vicious clutches and recalcitrant crash gearboxes of the period. The car appears to be totally complete and would be a great car to restore as an example of early experiments with alternative transmission systems.
If you haven’t visited the museum lately, make a point of it. The collection is as good as you will see anywhere in the world and the entire motoring spectrum is covered (as well as a couple of aircraft) so you definitely get value for your money. Tell them I sent you!
Mitchelli’s is open again
Unless you are familiar with pre-earthquake Christchurch, the above statement will probably mean nothing to you.
Mitchelli’s was an Italian restaurant opened by Fiat fanatic Ewan Mitchell and run by his daughters Penny and Georgina and was one of the favourite lunchtime eateries of a group including Eoin Young, Terry Marshall, Fairfax motoring Editor Dave Moore, and myself. I don’t know if we would call ourselves regulars, but whenever Eoin decided we were going, we had our own table, reserved for “Mitchelli’s Mafia”.
Like so many of the good things in Christchurch, the earthquakes spelt the end of Mitchellis and that, we thought, would be the end of that. So we were delighted just a couple of weeks ago to find that they were reopening at The Tannery, a fantastic development of boutique shops and eateries in a Victorian-style arcade in Woolston.
What could we do but go back. And even after three years, it was like going to an old friend’s place for lunch. Ewan (aka Papa Mitchelli) was there, actually telling a customer about Classic Driver, while Penny, George and Chris were back providing the same fantastic food and service we were used to. Again, Ewan’s huge Fiat posters were on the walls, joined by local artist and occasional Mafia member Stephanie McEwin’s painting featuring Eoin Young, Tazio Nuvolari and the Roycroft P3 Alfa-Romeo. The story behind it (and the subjects are all related) is on the wall. You will need to go in for a coffee, breakfast or lunch to read it.
We may well be there as the venison calzone is worth crossing town for on its own, the beer is Italian and one day I will give the Gelato a try as well. As a friendly, classy establishment which doesn’t charge like a wounded bull, it hits the spot and it really doesn’t seem like it was three years since Mitchelli’s Mafia last sat down to discuss important matters of state and motoring.
Ashburton Motor Museum
Ok, I have to admit it, until I got a call from Les Bennett last month, I had no idea there was a motor museum in Ashburton. That was a little embarrassing as it has been there since 1979, operated by the local branch of the Vintage Car Club. So I thought it polite to accept Les’ invitation and go down for a look.
First of all, don’t think that it is going to be full of vintage cars. The committee in charge of the museum makes sure the 35 or so cars on display cover as wide a range as possible and they also make sure that it does not become a depository for cars which members no longer want to use. They also invite non-members to exhibit their cars if something turns up in town which looks interesting. Not only cars, there are also motorbikes, restored garage workshop equipment and petrol pumps while the walls are covered with automobilia, with a local focus. The photo of an early Ashburton taxi grabbed my attention as it was labelled “Chevrolet 490 with Colonial body”.
It definitely was a Chevrolet, and an early one at that, but it was no 490. For a start it was clearly a big car, when the 490 isn’t, but the real giveaway was the half-elliptic front springs. 490s and the replacement 1923 and 24 Superiors had quarter elliptics and with their often harsh cone clutches, weren’t known as “grasshoppers” for nothing!
Which narrows it down to two things, both of which are unknown in this country, either a long-stroke FA or FB, of just possibly, the holy grail of Chevrolet, the 1917/18 Series D, a 288 ci ohv V8. Find me one of those and I will sell cars and body parts to get it!
A quick e-mail to my mate Dave Perry in NSW and the reply came back. 1918 or 19 Chevrolet FA with an Australian Miller body. It might not be the V8 but I wouldn’t be saying no if it turned up somewhere.
As good a judge of a museum as any for me is when I walk through thinking, “I’d take that home” or “I haven’t seen one of those before” and the Ashburton museum had a few in each category. BMW-Isettas are not seen every day and there is an unrestored one on display. The strikingly art-deco 1930 Willys-Knight is one of the most striking cars of the era I have seen, the tartan paint finish on the doors is correct and makes a colourful change from the boring blue or green and black typical of many cars of the era.
A pair of Ford Cortina GTs may not get everyone’s pulse racing, except one of them is a station-wagon and until I saw it, I had no idea that such a beast ever existed and sitting lower than a standard Cortina wagon, it looked pretty good.
The museum is at 86 Maronan Road, Tinwald (the southern side of town, just off SH1) and is open on Saturdays from 10am to midday and most Sundays when the neighbouring Plains Railway is operating, or on demand at any time; just give Les a call on 03 308 4705.
When good cars make bad noises
My plan for leaving Americarna was a simple one. At 3pm the display in the middle of town would be over. I would climb into the Durant and head for Bulls. Back in time for dinner and no worries about hopeless 6 volt headlights.
Then I tracked down event organiser JR to thank him for a brilliant few days. “Are you going to the prize-giving?” No, I wasn’t. “I really think you should go.” No, I really wanted to get south before dark. “No, you aren’t listening… you really should go to the prize-giving”. I may be a little slow on the uptake at times but this time I got the message and I did stick around.
It seems that while most American cars really aren’t built for tight gymkhana courses on seal, the 84 year old ones are particularly unsuitable, but 45° body-roll does at least give the crowd something to laugh at, to the extent that I got a special prize for the most valiant? futile? looking like he might up-end it? effort and left with a Meguiars pack of goodies to keep the fleet shiny. And now it was dark and I had a hundred miles to cover.
I have to admit it was only a couple of weeks short of a full year since I had last used the car and there were a few things I must have forgotten. Somewhere along the way I must have done something to the headlights as they actually did light up enough of the road that I could see where I was going.
All seemed to be going well, there was no traffic, the MP3 player made up for the lack of a stereo in the car, what was I worried about? Until I came into Hawera and lifted off the throttle, whereupon there was a rather nasty clunk from the back of the car. One of those “you better stop and investigate” kind of clunks.
I found a service station forecourt and got out to scratch my head. It sounded like something loose behind me. I gave each wheel a decent shake and it all seemed ok so after getting some fuel, I gingerly drove off.
I think I got to second gear before the clunk from earlier came back. Only this time it had brought its friends with it. It was no solitary noise now, but a road speed related thumping coming from “somewhere” and it was not a happy thumping…
So I returned to the welcoming lights of the petrol station, with the light from the forecourt making it a little easier to locate the wheel brace and a screwdriver from the dark depths of the unlit trunk. With the hubcaps off I checked the wheel studs. That wasn’t the problem. All wheels were tightly mounted.
A closer investigation was required, which revealed a possible cause for concern. The washer between hub and axle nut on the right-hand rear had about 2mm of movement. Somehow the hub had moved on the taper. All I needed to do was tighten the nut. Except first I needed to remove the splitpin which held the nut in place, without buggering it. Then I needed a spanner big enough to fit the nut. Another fumble in the darkest corners of the trunk came up with a pair of long-nose pliers and the spanner I use for tightening the water-pump gland. I needed to take the wheel off to get to the nut but that wasn’t too much of an effort and surprisingly, the tightening process went well.
Back on the road and all seemed fine. No noises, nothing to worry about at all. That was until I slowed down for road works near Waverley. My noise was back. And it was as dark as the inside of a cow, so investigation of axle nuts was done by feel and with a bit of light from my cellphone screen which I was wanting to save as the battery was nearly flat and my 6-12 volt inverter seems to have failed so I couldn’t charge it. I couldn’t find anything wrong, it was pitch dark and I was tired, shitty and wanted to go home!
Another gentle take-off and I found that if I stayed under 30mph it felt ok, but anything over that, things felt harsh and not pleasant so I crawled home. That did raise another issue though. Earlier in the week one of the repro. gears in the mechanism which winds the windscreen up to get some fresh air in the car had decided to shed a tooth and I couldn’t close the ’screen properly. That hadn’t been a problem at normal speed but… at 30, cold air was still coming in but the engine was running so cool, there was no heat coming through from the front and the heater wasn’t putting out any warmth either. I bloody near froze and my two and a half hour drive took four instead.
Since then my father has taken the car out and says there is nothing wrong with it. I don’t believe him!