Triumph 2500 PI
Middle age has arrived, so Mike obviously had to buy another old car to compensate. Some people never learn…
’It really is the chilled-out Yin to the Midget’s frenetic Yang’ OWNED SINCE DECEMBER 2017 MILEAGE SINCE LAST REPORT FIRST REPORT TOTAL MILEAGE 69,143 LATEST COSTS NONE
My wife’s a patient woman. When I idly mentioned, one evening, that I was considering buying myself a Triumph 2500 PI as an early Christmas present, she assumed that it was just another 1:18 scale model that I wanted to add to my burgeoning collection. I think she took it pretty well, then, when she realised that the Triumph in question was actually more, er, 1:1 scale. I can explain. I hit middle-age last year, so obviously needed to head off the inevitable midlife crisis. And since having an extra-marital affair or mental breakdown was out of the question – and my savings account was lacking the necessary funds to buy a classic Porsche 911 – I needed a solution – and fast.
My ears pricked up, then, when Matt George – formerly of the
CCW parish, and now my opposite number on our sister title, Practical
Classics – let slip that he’d soon be selling the car he’d bought for PC’s annual Winter Challenge. When I discovered that the car in question was the aforementioned Triumph – running, rather bizarrely, on carbs – I instantly found myself visualising the sort of long-distance classic family adventures that my MG Midget simply isn’t capable of. Splashing cash I didn’t really have on a car I didn’t really need? Oh yes.
Matt was honest enough to say that the car was slightly tatty, but fundamentally sound and in need of someone to ‘take it to the next level’. When I saw photos of the car wearing cool Wolfie slot mag wheels and clocked the long MoT and negligible advisories, I decided on the spot that the someone in question really ought to be me.
A couple of months passed while Matt set about preparing it for its
PC adventures, leaving me with nothing to do but flick endlessly through photos of the car on my phone and gaze at it wistfully through the window whenever it turned up at the office. Matt, meanwhile, was busy tackling some of the grot, tightening up the rear suspension and replacing the gently chuffing exhaust manifold.
My wait to see the car in the metal was delayed when Matt’s dad borrowed it for a trip to Wales, but this really didn’t really bother me; it would be reassuring to say the least if it managed get from North Yorkshire to Wales and back without drama. Needless to say, that’s exactly what happened.
I finally got to see the car one cold, grey lunch-hour, and while the various bodywork rust scabs didn’t exactly send my spirits soaring, the way its rumbly 2.5-litre six-pot barked into life at the first turn of the key and then sat there, idling smoothly, certainly did. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the way in which the hefty doors latch with a bank-vault ‘click’, or the laid-back driving position it naturally encourages, either; it really is the chilled-out Yin to the Midget’s frenetic Yang.
One tantalisingly brief test-drive later, Matt and I shook on a mutually agreeable price, and I revisited the car the following day to get my head around some of the jobs I wanted to prioritise. In short (and in no particular order) these are: getting it cavity rust-proofed and undersealed; fitting rear seat-belts; and finding out how much banishing the worst of the ferrous scabs (on the trailing rear edge of the roof above the window and at the bottom of the nearside A-pillar) is likely to cost. I’d love to treat it to a proper body resto in the longer term, but I’m looking for a quick and dirty job for now, because I just want to drive the thing.
Which became a bit of an issue when I discovered an ominouslooking pool of fluid under the engine. It wasn’t oil, but petrol. Damn it. ‘Hello, is that Hall’s Garage? I’ve got a bit of a problem with my new car…’
Still, it turns out that hitting middle age isn’t so bad, after all.