Škoda Favorit
Sam breaks his ‘no bangers’ rule for a crusty Škoda
t the age of 33, I have more automotive projects than I’m likely to get finished in my lifetime. Money and time are gravely finite resources. I therefore strictly control my natural urge to squander both on unremarkable bangers while my barnload of interesting classics collects owl pellets. Unremarkable bangers do have the right to appeal, though. A recent success story was my 1994 Škoda Favorit. Although worthless and eminently replaceable, I allowed it into my workshop for two reasons. One: I really liked it. Two: nobody else in their right mind would bother to get it through another MOT. There’s undoubted satisfaction to be had in resurrecting a car that would otherwise be heading for the weighbridge.
The Favorit had been dragged from the garden of my friend Paul Johns and hastily Mot’d as a last-minute stand-in for the 2016 November Sun Run rally. It was a good ‘un. Longterm Škodacampaigner Paul’s favoured combination of Boge front and Bilstein rear shock absorbers gave it wonderful composure and its uncommonly smooth and revvy engine was clearly the product of a good day at the Mladá Boleslav factory. I was much impressed and wrestled ownership from Paul after the Sun Run, offering £100 and a Renault Vel Satis in payment. The cash covered the car; the Vel Satis the Pirelli ‘P-slot’ alloys that tied it together so nicely.
The gift-horse’s mouth
I used the Favorit regularly for much of 2017. It was clearly in a less-than-perfect state of repair, but as it remained unerringly reliable and undemanding, I chose not to look at it too closely. Staying ignorant of its shortcomings staved off the compulsion to address them. Then, sadly, I surrendered to the urge to change its brake fluid. The brown, frothy effluence that emerged resembled one of my home-brewing experiments as a student.
A cursory brake inspection was enough to put me off driving it with any enthusiasm. They had no right to be functioning. The front calipers were a disgrace and the contents of the rear drums was the stuff of nightmares – a deathly-black confection of leaked hub grease, distressed paint, rust, scorched dust and swollen rubber.
I gradually amassed a full set of brake parts: master cylinder, calipers, discs, pads, wheel cylinders, shoes, drums, flexi-hoses and hub grease seals. I added a set of rear wheel bearings to spare myself the effort of pressing the outer races of the originals from the old drums. I also lavishly splashed out on spark plugs, HT leads, oil and air filters, balljoint and CV boots, a distributor cap and a rotor arm. It needed a set of exhaust mounts, which totalled £18 on ebay. A complete exhaust system delivered from Germany for £38 was irresistibly better value.
Holistic therapy
The resulting pile of parts exceeded the value of the car by a factor of five. Action was therefore needed to raise the overall standard of the car to the point that fitting them didn’t seem foolish. A small rusty scab on an inner front wing became a large hole when poked with a screwdriver. Removal of the Macpherson strut and gentle deconstruction with an angle grinder left a huge and awkwardly three-dimensional void, with many intersecting and double-skinned sections. An ugly but structurally robust repair called for an Escher-like tessellation of welded patches. A section of rusty unpleasantness at the rear of one sill proved far easier to remedy.
Various brake pipes were reaching an unacceptable level of crustiness, so I made a new set from copper. I also fitted copper fuel pipes to and from the tank, taking the opportunity to replace the fuel filter and the rubber hoses at each end of the operation.
The screenwash pump was seized, but responded positively to being taken apart and put back together again. I changed the engine and transmission oils, set the valve clearances and flushed and refilled the cooling system.
This done, I deemed the car worthy of its new spares, which slotted gradually into place in an obedient and unexciting manner. I discovered that an aggressive solution of sodium percarbonatebased plughole cleaner was as adept at removing the gunge from the inside of the brake reservoir as it was at removing the skin from my hands. I recommend it – and the use of gloves – highly. I refilled the system with silicone brake fluid.
So: five days’ work and £508 later, I have a poor example of a Škoda Favorit. This one-off splurge of time and money, though, has pulled it back from the brink of hopelessness. Smaller future efforts will seem less illogical. Plus, more so now than ever, it’s one of the best cars I’ve ever driven.