Showtime take two
Alisdair takes his Series I on its longest drive in 18 years, to the Land Rover Legends show.
WITH THE first local classic car show done, and after a dodgy 20-year-old fuse brought UAO to an unexpected halt, I wanted to be fully prepared for the big one; Land Rover Legends.
Wanting to avoid a repeat breakdown on the long motorway blast to Bicester, I spent a week fettling, cleaning, checking, preparing and then re-checking everything I’d spent an age checking. At 6.45 am on the Saturday, I pressed the starter button, full of nervous energy and excitement. The car did all it should. It got up to temperature and I got to the motorway. Happy all was well, I committed myself and settled into a steady cruise of around 52 mph, guessing by the wavering speedo needle. The M42 came and went, and the miles slowly ratcheted around the odometer. It was just over 60 miles to Bicester, most of that being motorway. Preparation is key, so I mentally broke the trip down into sections, meaning all I had to do was simply tick off each in turn, with planned escape stops or alternate off-motorway sections for each marker point if I needed them.
UAO simply isn’t meant for motorways, never mind mixing with modern cars, but I kept a safe distance and constant vigil for my surrounding traffic. It was easier than I thought and I quickly got used to amazed faces in passing cars turning to stare. Before I knew it, the Cherwell Valley exit appeared and I turned off. In high spirits, surprised to find my ears ringing but feeling very much alive, I arrived at Bicester Heritage at 8.02 am. Just two minutes after I was supposed to meet editor Patrick. I call that a win.
Pulling up to the hangar, I apprehensively lifted the bonnet for a quick visual okay. The car had ran just perfectly, and I noted nothing amiss other than a tiny bit of oil dribble from the rocker cover breather joint. Dunsfold’s Philip Bashall came over, and I ran it past him. “I wouldn’t worry, about that, the car basically hasn’t driven for 20 years”, he dismissed. I’m grateful he did point out one error I’d made in assembling the steering drop bar and ball joints, in that the clamps were tightened on the ball joint threads, not the flat section nearer the joints themselves. He’s the man to know, I’m always happy to learn, and I wound them down and re-tightened the clamps in less than a minute the next day.
I was camping at the airfield that night, so after arriving safely my next task was to pitch my tent. I’ve camped in all sorts of places through shooting for the Camping and Caravanning Club, but always on work trips. I’ve always wanted to camp by the Series I, so I carefully set my tent up on the edge of the airfield test track, being sure to get the best view in the house. A quick celebratory brew and rest in the tent, and UAO went on the magazine stand for the day, and the show really was superb, like Dunsfold’s open day on a larger scale. A number of people came up and asked about the
car, or said how they thought I’d got it just right, which was lovely. The award for my super fan has to go to Julian Fentum, who was so happy to meet me, chatting about my cars and features I’m afraid I really was stunned. Hope I made some sense, Julian!
Day one done and I enjoyed a pizza back at camp, dining in the back of UAO, with a few beers in the evening as the sun set. A threehour lightning storm helped pass the night, and I rose early to watch the sunrise behind my Land Rover before the second day of the show. I camp regularly, but doing it with the old car, not to be snapping, was a real treat for me.
As mountaineers say, the summit is only half way, so I wasn’t relaxed until I got home safely again. In oppressive, humid weather I repeated my plan of ticking off the junctions heading north. All was good until after Warwick services, when ominously, oncoming cars had headlights on. The heavens then opened, creating a watery Armageddon. Joining the M42, in crawling traffic, the hard shoulder was a literal, flowing river; lane 1 was flooding fast, and my rear canvas was still open, sucking water in as I drove. I took refuge in a petrol station off the M42 to lower the back canvas flap, but then the petrol station drains started to flood, and I had to wade wheel-nut deep to leave. That final hour, battling home at a crawl was simply harrowing. The volume of the car was nothing compared to that of the hammering rain. With water coming in almost everywhere and just a single Lucas wiper, I was convinced the car would break down, or have some catastrophic failure. Never in my life have I felt so helpless, nor been so happy to get out of a vehicle. I later learnt a month’s rainfall had fell in that single hour driving back home, flooding roads to five feet deep in places.
Frankly, I’d had enough of UAO. The next day I reluctantly washed the car down, checked it over (all perfect) and just put it away again, traumatised by the memory of that drive back. Weeks later, after I’d been away working, on impulse I used UAO to get to jazz band practice again. The sun was out, the roads quiet and all was well again in my Series I world. I realised I just needed to get over the helplessness of driving in that rainstorm.
But enough old Land Rover prattle. For too long, my Range Rover Classic has sat, patiently waiting for its turn. Today it went for an MOT, and, of course, it failed. Welcome to life. But I converted that to an instant pass four seconds later, with one sentence. What’s the magic words? You will have to wait until next month to find out.