Six of the best
Danny scratches an itch: at least he does with the third car
Ridiculous, illogical, nostalgia is a major reason why many of us are obsessed with our classics. The motoring experiences of youth are a powerful tonic. With me, my dad’s Seventies cars (Cortina Mkis, followed by two Landcrabs) provide the background music to my classic desires. Dad loved his Austin 1800s because, at heart, he is an engineer and Issigonis is one of his heroes. I was conveyed on numerous holidays, sitting on the back seat with my sister, Landcrab stuffed with bags and tents and the roof rack piled high. It wasn’t fast, but it was roomy, fast and flat in the corners.
I’ve had an 1800 myself but I’ve always been on the lookout for the car my dad always fancied, a 2200, or even better, a Wolseley Six. That’s the itch I set out to scratch when I bought a pair of pestoration projects, a 1974 car and a 1973 car, from an online advert. They came with a van load of spares… but as soon as they turned up, I knew I had made a mistake. With a Pathfinder project on the go and a fleet to look after, the corrosion explosion on both my new ’Crabs would see me in the workshop for a year before I even got close to the road… I advertised them and carried on hunting for a good one.
I found the car I needed on the drive of Tim Brown, the man I sold my old 1800 to 15 years ago. It was down on one side but it ran and it looked sound – after a £500 payment, it was back to the workshop.
’Crab shop
The first job was to scrape off the flaky underseal that caked the big ’Crab’s nether regions and work out what needed doing. A day of scraping and ‘filth rain’ ended up with a decent conclusion. There was only one area of rot – the rear of the
offside inner sill. Tough to get to, but not as tough as it could be. I detached the rear trailing arm (four big bolts), disconnected the brake flexi hose (to be replaced anyway) and detached the displacer hose from the steel pipe that connects it to the front displacer.
In doing this I found the likely cause of the Six’s lean to port. The metal hose was holed in two places. An order for a new one was placed through the very excellent Landcrab Club and I cracked on with repairs. The sills are the single most likely cause of structural failure on a ’Crab. They are huge and essential to the structure… they also rust for fun. So managing to make the Six ready for an MOT inspection in under three hours was a real bonus. Everywhere else was devoid of anything that might worry me, as even the petrol tank was sound (they are especially prone to life-threatening failure).
Another day was spent fitting the high pressure hydraulic line sent by the club, which I plumbed in fore and aft, reusing the steel line’s fixings along with the ones that came with the kit (they fitted perfectly). I refitted the trailing arm and fitted new flexi hoses both sides and then attached the suspension hose. Time for a pump.
I borrowed a Hydrolastic suspension pump (known as a ‘Dalek’), attached it to the valve that sits atop the hydraulic hose at where it emerges at the bulkhead and, over a period of an hour, pumped the ’Crab up and down, allowing air bubbles to escape each time. Then I spent an evening covering the car’s underside in rustproofer and epoxymastic undercoat.
The car was almost ready for an MOT at my local classic-friendly station (yep, I know you don’t have to any more but, frankly, you are mad if you don’t). A final morning was spent changing oil and filter, tuning carbs and finally replacing all the exhaust mountings and gear linkage rubbers (I had forgotten to do this until I drove the Six up and down the yard and couldn’t get second).
Passed first time with an advisory on a cracked tyre, which I replaced. The brake test was particularly impressive (perfect balance both across the axles and front to back) and gave me the kind of peace of mind you need when using a classic regularly. All was well until, about three weeks later, I woke up to find the Six had done a wee on the drive and the ‘lean’ had returned.
Displacement theory
I gave Ian Kennedy a call. A couple of days later he turned up in the LDV van of many wonders. Ian is the man to call if you have Hydrolastic issues. He owns an Über Dalek that can vacuum systems and pump them to predefined pressures, all the while filtering the fluid as it goes in and out. He discovered my leak at the union between the front displacer and new hose that I hadn’t nipped up properly. Suitably chastised, he sucked and pumped both sides for me and went on his way. We are lucky to have this man… he restores displacer units as well.
I visited an old mate for a day of body love. Rich March of UK Detailers likes a challenge and the flat Damask Red paint on the Six provided just that. It was awful. Rich started by measuring the paint’s thickness, which was around 100 microns all over… enough to play with as long as that was actual paint and not primer. His second, even more expensive, diagnostic tool (a kind of ultrasound for paint) revealed we had plenty of meat on the bone. Time to grab the rotaries!
Or not. Have a look at the previous page to find out what we actually did and how the Wolseley went from flat to fantastic. So, now I have a beautiful car, one that my dad has seen and thoroughly approved of (and driven) and that has scratched my nostalgic itch. Although oddly, only when I sat in the back and let dad drive – like we did it 40 years ago.