WE’VE BOUGHT A 306 RALLYE SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO

Report 11: checking the tracking and balancing

I’m writing this from an ATS Euromaster waiting room. Not for the first time. Outside, the 306 is waiting to go up on a ramp for yet another tracking and balancing check. I doubt it’ll make a blind bit of difference, and you must be bored of me banging on about this wheel wobble. The hard truth, the one I’ve been trying to avoid, is that the Peugeot needs more new parts. Assuming the check reveals nothing amiss, this time it’s driveshafts.

I’m torn. A 306 Rallye doesn’t just need new parts. It deserves them. This is what old cars do to us. They make us feel sorry for them. New cars don’t do this. They sit outside in any weather, perky and reliable, ever ready to buzz blandly into life. I left the 306 in the office carpark over Christmas, because it was dry and underground. It took a few extra turns of the starter to get going but, when it did, I patted the steering wheel and whispered endearments.

You want to give old cars a good life, you want to live up to their expectations rather than vice versa. You don’t want it to be you that lets them down, or to know they might have a better life with another owner. But equally, the 306 isn’t the only animate object I have to answer to. My wife quite likes cars, but can’t see a single reason for me to throw more coin at The Heap. Some people have no appreciation. And rarely read their own husband’s words.

Right, just been outside and poked around T916 JKP with one of the techs. Tracking is fine, but they can’t do the balancing until Nev is back from his holidays on Saturday. I kid you not. The 306, being old, has no centre hole on the wheels and no one else knows how to convert the wheel-balancing machine to run with a four-stud pattern. And, with our deadline on Friday, it’s going to be another month before I can tell you the outcome. Bet you can’t wait.

They also pointed out a minor crank-side oil leak, a bit of play in the nearside track rod and corrosion on the offside front brake disc. Pit, meet money.

Speaking of money, you might be interested to know what it’s costing me to run. Tax, due not to emissions of 229g/km, but because it was registered before March 2001 and has an engine larger than 1549cc, is a punchy £265 a year. You’d pay no more for a Ferrari F40. It won’t be tax exempt for another 20 years – that’s reserved for cars over 40 years old. Insurance costs me less per year – just £207. I insist on feeding it Shell V-Power, which means £70 every 350 miles. That’s fine. After all, no different from anything else doing 32mpg. Maybe I should be grateful for the wheel wobble – I know fuel consumption will rise when that goes.