To Bedford or bust
THERE ARE all sorts of reasons why I didn’t press the Jensen straight back into regular service after its prodigal-son routine. First, I wanted to feel proud of it again, to lavish a bit of time on it and rekindle the desire. Oh, and to sort out all sorts of issues. Lots of issues, not least the rotten running.
So I spent a few weekend hours washing, polishing and tinkering, and pottering around locally to rebuild my confidence in it. I distracted myself from the horrors of the rusty rear ’arches with little jobs such as stripping what was left of the woodwork from the gearshift surround and re-covering it in black vinyl. I told myself it was a temporary measure, but suspect that the fact I included a nice foam layer betrays otherwise.
As for the mechanicals, I dropped and replaced all the fluids and set about discovering why, after initially starting on the button but running very rough, it suddenly didn’t want to start at all, meaning that after one day’s fettling I needed to call on my brother Mark and nephew Billy to help me push its two tonnes up the gentle incline into the lock-up.
With a new coil and after timing the engine by ear, as always, I got it starting and running, but pinking like a pig even on Shell V-Power, so I retarded it a bit and sacrificed some thrust for some peace of mind. Not as good as it should be, but usable. Thank goodness.
With my Triumph in the no man’s land between MoT expiry
and MoT exemption and my Alfa 145 Cloverleaf developing the most Milanese of problems – when it rained heavily, water was dropping onto the fusebox and wiping out the (you got it) wipers – I needed the Jensen to get me to the Bedford office for press week. It’s a 150-mile round trip that includes a horrible section around the North Circular in London, then a schlep up a ‘smart motorway’ and dual carriageway before the tortuous finale around Bedford’s ring road into the countryside.
I was so terrified of breaking down on a hard-shoulder-free motorway that I planned all sorts of convoluted routes, yet when I got to the first ‘smart’ section the Jensen was running so well that I powered on to the office. And so it continued all week. With the Alfa mended by the Friday, I didn’t need to take the Jensen, but it was coping so well and I was enjoying it so much that I did, just for fun.
As I tucked it up on the Friday night, another issue of
Octane off to the printer, the only ill-effect seemed to be the manifold gasket ticking like a frenzied metronome. And thanks to commuting 600 miles in only four days, I go into the summer full of confidence – but empty of wallet. The Jensen averaged just 14mpg…