Rover to the rescue
It was the perfect automotive storm. Out of a fleet of four cars I had precisely none that were actually working. And I had an urgent airport run to do. Whatever is a Car Mechanics contributor to do? Easy… buy a 25-year-old, down-at-heel Rover for £150 from another CM contributor.
As touched on briefly in my last Our Cars, my acquisition of a 1994 Rover
216 SLI was more necessity than choice. Everything had gone wrong at once. Owning so many cars should be enough to insulate anybody against being left without wheels, but my Saab 900 Turbo was on long-term sick leave with a stripped ignition barrel, the Volvo 960’s MOT had expired and my Fiat Panda had snapped its cambelt twice within the space of a thousand miles. Fortunately, it’s a non-interference engine, and also fortunately, it turned out to be caused by an incorrect water pump fitment rather than something more sinister. But that left me with just a slightly decrepit 2002 Suzuki Jimny (now replaced by a MINI R50) – not exactly the ideal long-distance cruiser to pick-up my partner, Dianne, returning from Italy via Stansted Airport. And it then ruled itself out of the equation completely by shredding its auxiliary belt on a fast section of A1 where I couldn’t easily pull over – then blowing its head gasket soon afterwards. I was stymied. And stranded.
Rather than doing something sensible like hire a car or get a friend to assist, I took the petrolhead option and decided to buy something instead. CM’S own Craig Cheetham seemed the obvious choice. I’ve acquired several cars from him before, from the world’s most disappointing Renault Fuego to a Saab 900 LPT, and yet despite this (or probably because of it) we’ve remained good friends. His affection for otherwise unloved Rovers is well-known and one of those lurking in his sanctuary was a 1994 Rover 216 SLI. With various panels in mismatched Flame Red, a missing rear boot spoiler, mottled and droopy grey bumpers, and assorted scratches, dents and outbreaks of rust, it wasn’t pretty. But it had a tidy interior, six months’ MOT, a peppy Honda 1.6-litre engine with just 65,000 miles, and it was mine for just £150 if I wanted it.
An adventure to Holland
Of course, it didn’t quite turn out that way. Whatever its scruffy looks, the Rover drove extremely well. Then Car Mechanics’ sister publication Practical Classics borrowed it for an adventure to Holland, expecting it to break down and give them lots to write about. But it didn’t, so they serviced it out of sheer frustration instead. After that the Rover 200 and 400 Owners’ Club decided to give it a bit of a spruce-up during a show at the Birmingham NEC, when they worked on it as part of their stand there. It was an amazing transformation. Members cut and polished the whole bodywork, rehung the bumper quarter that had come off its mounting and sorted out an annoying auto transmission oil leak.
The result is a car that the neighbours no longer report to the council as a possible abandoned vehicle whenever I park it in the street outside my
house. I’ve also carried out my own improvements such as replacing the broken front and rear indicator lenses, and respraying and fitting a secondhand rear spoiler. It’s never going to be the nicest Rover in the world – actually, it’s never likely to even be the nicest Flame Red 1994 Rover 216 SLI in the world – but it’s far more presentable than it was.
Its only real tantrum so far, aside for some expected welding for the MOT, was arriving at the Birmingham NEC with coolant and steam issuing from under its bonnet. But kudos to it for picking a place to go wrong where a bunch of enthusiastic and knowledgeable club members could get to work straight away and diagnose a fan issue.
I also took it back to its birthplace at the former Austin plant at Longbridge. It vocally expressed its appreciation on the way home by developing a blowing exhaust. Well, that’ll teach me for going to Birmingham. Twice.