Haynes Pains

A couple of months ago, I bought another project. Yeah, yeah, like I really need another project. But, frankly, I'm pretty sick of the Pinto-powered Fox. The novelty of having a convertible had well and truly worn off, and I wouldn't mind it being as slow as a 1.3 diesel if I was getting similar fuel economy to a 1.3 diesel instead of more like a stroked small-block. I had spotted a Pontiac for sale on Gumtree. It was a front-wheel driver, but otherwise it had everything I need: it was a big, comfortable daily with five seats, should tow pretty well, qualify for specialist insurance, provide fuel economy that wouldn't leave me feeling reamed yet still turn in some sprightly times on the track.

It's a 2001 Pontiac Bonneville SSEI, which has the factory supercharged 3800cc V6, four-speed auto and other fun stuff. It was listed with an unspecified engine fault so I called the seller who described the fault - he said he was cruising along the Autobahn through Germany on his way back from Bulgaria when it developed a misfire and lost power so he pulled over and called the recovery truck. It had since sat outside his gaff for two years. Well, that could be anything, couldn't it? A crank angle sensor, a dead coil pack, even a jumped timing chain. That could be a really quick and easy fix, and I'd be on the road in no time! You'd think I'd learn...

I should have heard an alarm bell when the seller presented me with a V5 that still said it was tax exempt because it was owned by a serving American military officer and a key. No remote key fobs, no spare key, just one solitary key.

I loaded it on the trailer and dragged it home. Job one was to let several gallons of water out of the spare wheel well - the spare wheel was literally floating.

The bodywork seemed completely straight apart from a scuff on the bonnet and a chipped wing mirror. Even the factory chrome wheels were still chrome. Then I did a compression test on the motor. Yeah, zero psi on the middle pot of the front bank didn't bode well. I got a Haynes manual for the Bonneville and other badge-engineered GM products, but of course, it doesn't cover the less common supercharged models so I've decided to write my own. Here's the procedure for checking the bores then removing the engine on a 2001 SSEI:

1. Disconnect the battery. To do this, you'll have to find it. It's under the back seat.
2. Remove the blower belt and the auxiliary belt. Throw them in a pile so you can't remember which one's which.
3. Disconnect the multiplug to the coil packs, and remove the numbered HT leads from the spark plugs. Always pull on the boot of the lead, not the wire itself. Then watch as on two of the rear bank of plugs, the boot just drops off the wire anyway and falls into the darkest recesses of the engine bay, never to be seen again.
4. Remove the coil packs from the bracket above the blower belt tensioner.
5. Remove the blower belt tensioner bracket.
6. Realise that you could have skipped step four altogether, taken it all off as one unit and saved yourself five minutes.
7. Start disconnecting the wiring from the injectors, switches and sensors around the engine. Using labels or strips of masking tape, be sure to label each wire or multiplug with useful guides such as "to vacuum thingy", "goes to odd black box on bracket behind EGR valve" or "????".
8. Release the 'quick-release' fuel feed pipe and return pipe couplings above the supercharger using the special 'quick-release pipe coupling release tool' that you don't have. Marvel at the stench of stale petrol.
9. Release the nuts holding the fuel rails to either cylinder head and lift away, complete with fuel injectors. Spill stale petrol all down trousers.
10. Remove radiator bottom hose and allow coolant to escape. Note that the inlet pipe to the water pump is above the level of the cylinder head gaskets.
11. Release throttle cable and TV cable from the throttle lever on the throttle body. Then either frig about for hours removing the cables from their bracket like the manual says, or just remove the two bolts holding the bracket to the throttle body and hoy it out of the way.
12. Undo the long bolts securing the supercharger to the intake manifold and remove the supercharger complete with throttle body and air intake ducting.
13. Remove the bolts securing the intake manifold and lift the manifold free.
14. Remove bolts securing the rocker cover from the front bank of cylinders. Each bolt includes a rubber washer which will disappear to join its friends, the spark plug boots (see step 3).
15. Remove rockers and pushrods, and store them safely in the order that they were removed. A cardboard box with marked holes punched through the lid will help keep everything in order. Put the box on the bonnet of the car parked next to you. As you put the last rocker in, the box will slide off the bonnet and into the gravel. Replace the gritty rockers in the box in no particular order.
16. Realise that to remove the cylinder head, you need to remove the exhaust manifold. Say "Twat" under your breath.
17. Remove the two nuts that secure the front exhaust manifold to the exhaust crossover pipe. Remove the two nuts securing the crossover pipe to the rear manifold. Fling the crossover pipe across the yard.
18. Remove the six nuts from the studs that secure the manifold to the head. Most of the studs will come out with the nuts. Remove the manifold.

19. Unfasten the cylinder head securing bolts in the order specified in the manual, a quarter turn at a time until they're only finger tight. Place them in the box with the rocker gear, marked according to the position they came from, even though you won't be reusing them. Note with interest that when you remove the bottom left bolt, a fountain of water issues from the hole. Remind yourself of step 10.
20. Lift the cylinder head and store it somewhere where it won't get damaged.
21. Look at the bores (see illustration).

22. Mumble "For fuck's sake".
23. Stamp off to the pub.
24. You will now need to remove the engine, because you're never going to get the rear cylinder head off with the engine in situ. Start by removing the cooling fans according to the manual.
25. Then remove the radiator according to the manual.
26. Then remove the air conditioning condenser according to the manual.
27. Realise that you could have saved 20 minutes by removing the whole bundle as one unit.
28. Remove the nuts securing the air conditioning compressor to the engine block. Try to slide the compressor off its studs. Realise that there's not enough room. Realise that that's why the studs have a Torx star machined into the end of them. Unfasten the studs using the Torx sockets that you haven't got and put the compressor to one side.
29. The power steering pump is tucked at the bottom of the engine bay, right at the back next to the bulkhead. It's impossible to fill, never mind remove unless you know the secret. The manual says there are two bolts, one facing left, the other facing right. It's lying. Eventually, you'll find that both face the same way and the only way to unfasten them is through a hole in the pulley. Put the pump aside.
30. Remove the starter motor.
31. Release the three short bolts securing the torque converter to the flexplate.
32. Remove the two nuts securing the rear exhaust manifold to the downpipe. You can't even see this joint, so you'll have to do the job using a combination of gynaecology and guesswork.
33. Connect an engine crane to the engine lifting hooks. Realise that the front lifting hook is attached to the cylinder head you've already removed. Get creative. Take the weight of the engine.
34. Remove the large nut securing the front engine mount to the underside of the subframe under the offside wheel arch. Notice while you're down there that the offside coil spring is broken. Say "For Christ's sake".
35. Remove the bolts securing the engine mount bracket to the block, and remove the bracket. It's a huge aluminium casting the size of a lower arm on a lesser car and probably worth more in scrap than the rest of the car.
36. Place a trolley jack under the transmission and release the bolts securing the transmission bellhousing to the engine block.
37. Wonder why they're not coming apart. Start levering with progressively larger tools, ending with a crowbar. Note the way the thin, aluminium bellhousing flexes alarmingly while you're heaving at it with a crowbar.
38. Oh, sorry, forgot to mention, there's another bellhousing bolt, facing the other way, tucked way down in the dark between the block and the trans in the little area designed to fill with grease over the years and make bolt heads nigh-on bastard invisible.
39. Realise that you can't even get a spanner onto this bolt. Attempt to get a socket onto it by using varying lengths of extension bar and working from the front of the block. You should waste at least an hour trying to do this.
40. Realise that to undo this bolt, you're going to have to remove the exhaust manifold from the rear cylinder head; exactly the job you were trying so hard to avoid. Spend a few moments having a quiet whimper.
41. The nuts on the rear exhaust manifold are highly inaccessible and tightened to a very specific torque - this torque is just too tight to undo with your fingers, but not tight enough to overcome the ratchet on your ratchet wrench so you spend a long time spinning each one up and down its thread without ever actually removing it. Most nuts and bolts that you can't see and can barely get a spanner to are tightened to this torque - it's common manufacturing practice.
42. Realise that one of the manifold studs also holds the lifting bracket to which you've tied the lifting sling. Spend a few moments trying to unpick a bloody impenetrable knot.
43. Realise that there's not enough room to slide the rearmost exhaust manifold off its studs; you're going to have to remove the studs, which also have a Torx head on them. This takes a different size of Torx socket, which you also don't have. Spend a few moments wondering aloud why GM didn't just use bolts like every fucker else. The studs are just as invisible as the manifold nuts, with the added bonus of being a little closer to the bulkhead. They're also tightened to the torque mentioned in step 41.
44. We forgot to mention that the rear manifold comes with an EGR valve on the end of a flexible and rather fragile-looking pipe. It's going to have to come off with the manifold.
45. Realise that there's not enough room to remove the manifold. You're going to have to remove the rocker box first.
46. Realise that there's not enough room to remove the rocker box without removing this vast, rather redundant aluminium casting that seems to do nothing other than carry the water to the heater pipes and prevent you removing rocker boxes. Remove this.
47. Then remove the rocker box.
48. Then remove the manifold.
49. Then replace two of the studs and the lifting hook. Re-tie the sling and take the weight of the engine again.
50. Finally you can get to the last bellhousing bolt. Cry a little as you realise that the bastard thing was only finger tight. Fling the bolt as far as you can across the yard because you'll be buggered bandy in Woolworths' window if you're ever going to refit it.
51. The engine and gearbox can now be moved apart. But only by an inch. Curse, swear, cry, plead and cajole.
52. Oh, shite, yeah, forgot to mention that there's another bracket securing the block to the gearbox. The transmission is in a huge casing that wraps all the way around the back of the engine. This bracket supports the offside end of the trans. This bracket is invisible from above, below, left or right, and can only be found by touch. It's not mentioned in any manuals. Undo the two bolts securing the bracket to the block and the engine comes free.
53. Commence lifting the engine. Stop lifting the engine. Lower the engine back into position. Untie the sling. When you re-tied the sling in step 49 you put a bundle of wiring on the wrong side of the rope. Move the wiring, re-tie the sling again and hoist the engine out. You don't need to remove the bonnet like the manual says.
54. Remove the engine and put it gently in a safe place.
55. Note the broken wires in the engine bay. Oh, yeah, forgot to mention there's a knock sensor on the back of the block, and an oil pressure sender too. Neither of these can be seen with the engine in situ, and both are bloody expensive to replace.
56. Tidy up tools. It has been raining on and off while you've been doing this job, so as you pick up the box with the carefully labelled and arranged rockers, pushrods and head studs, the bottom turns to mush and scatters everything in the gravel again.
57. Wonder why you didn't just buy a Lexus like everyone else.
58. Go to the pub.

Eugene

Season's End - Finals race report

It's now October. Boooo. Once again, the season's all but finished and there's bugger-all to look forward to for the rest of the year.

Prior to the finals, I was jolly excited, looking forward to seeing whether Nigel could sneak the crown from James.

After the finals, I was just a bit ...

... and still bloody am. I copped for a bit of a cold the day after the finals, and even though that was nearly a fortnight ago now, I'm still blowing half a pint of guacamole out of my nose every five minutes.

Anyway, the finals. September 21st was the date, and for the first time in living memory, I actually rocked up not just early but early enough to have to join the queue at the still-closed gates! First in line was John and Chris Osborne, and behind them Andy Hadfield who was already dishing out the JD and Coke to his usual recipe... We'd managed a late-ish booking at the Barnes Wallis to allow everyone to get set up and take a leisurely drive, and enjoyed a right good nosebag and a beer or two. As well as the Osbornes, it was also good to see the return of Nick and Carol Gunby.

Sunday was cool, clear and dry with a slight cross wind, and there were a few of our star players out to chalk some final big scores on the board before the end of the season. Andy Fadster set his stall out early with an 8.28 at 171mph, taking pole position by in excess of two seconds. In the past few months, Andy has run a seven at Santa Pod and York, and was clearly going for the full set, perhaps becoming the first street car ever to do so. He was also looking for the fastest street car at York title, although nobody seems to know exactly what that record stands at.

Another arrival out looking for a big score was Ian Walley, who had had a high-stall torque converter custom built to short order in the States, sent over double-quick and fitted in rather lively fashion, only to find that it stalled at exactly the same revs as the old one (which he had since sold). Rather than complain, the stiff upper lip prevailed and, by using a monstrous dollop of nitrous and the transbrake, was able to overpower the converter and launch inside the powerband. He tested this a few times ... inside his crowded unit full of customers' cars. Well, what could go wrong?

It's a 1.3 ... yeah, right, 1.3 second sixty-foots, maybe! A 10.4 in qualifying showed that there was definitely something in store from Ian. Russ was next on 11.0, then Derek on 11.7, then another big jump to Gilly in the Cortina looking sharp on 13.7. Phil Winstanley in the long-absent Moggy Minor returned to the fold with a 14.4 (and qualifying for the season at the same time).

Next was Tom Barker in the Astra, also qualifying, on 14.5, Andy Errington's TVR on a 15.0, then Gasket in the Mustang on a 15.2. Considering the season so far has been like a meeting of the Mustang Owners' Club (but with more emphasis on Fox and SN95 Mustangs and less emphasis on matching numbers), Gasket's was the only one there and is now up for sale for a very reasonable sum. Nigel's championship-contender Anglia was next on 15.9, then Rick, back out in the Viva, on 17.8, with the dirty dozen rounded out by Nick in the Zephyr that sounded, apparently, just like a BRISCA F2 stock car on its straight-through pipes but thoroughly exceeded Nick's expectations by breaking into the teens on only its second run with a 19.9.

Christ, I've just coughed up something the consistency of creme brulee but the colour of a 1970s bathroom suite... good god, it's got tubes sticking out of it. If this is man-flu I'm quite worried that it may have mutated into ebola.

And so, straight into the first round, and that saw the clean and rapid MkI of Gilly showing Andy's TVR how it's done, 13.4 to 15.2. Next came a bit of an upset as Ian Walley was pushed back off the line for fluid leak, leaving Rick to run uncontested into the quarter finals - yet another dose of bad luck for Ian. Next, Phil Winstanley pushed an extra tenth out of the Minor, 14.3 to Tom's 15.1, followed by Russ pulling a 10.1 out of the bag against Nigel's 16.1, thereby ending his hopes of taking the championship top spot - Nigel was assured of second, but now nobody could catch James Murray, our new 2014 NSCC champion.

Nick got a stellar view of Faster's parachute end, his 20.1 playing a rather optimistic catch-up to Andy's 8.4, while Derek managed an 11.5 against Gasket's 15.4 to round out the first bout of eliminations and set up the quarters.

The quarters opened with Fadster, still on his mission for a seven, but seemingly with it getting ever further out of reach, ripping off an 8,7 against Phil's 14.1, followed by Derek hitting out a so-close 11.09 at 124mph to Russ's 10.1 at 135, a lightning reaction from Derek meaning that race was probably a lot closer than it looked, but Russ still took the win light. Gilly ended Rick's good luck, 13.9 to 17.7, to set up the semis.

Gilly's luck ran out straight away in the semis as he met Russ, whose 10.8 rather overshadowed Gilly's excellent 13.4, while Andy just broke the beams in his bye on the other side of the ladder as he was also competing in Super Cup and didn't want to push his luck. Oh, the irony...

I've just blown my nose again - imagine trying to catch half a pound of Swarfega in one sheet of bog roll. Yuk. I bet this stuff would make really good gasket sealant. Has anybody ever tried it? Never mind Blue Hylomar; I've got Green Aaarghmenose,

Right, to the finals, and it was a bit of an anti-climax. After a full season of hard-fought competition, it came down to Russ and Andy, the latter still trying for that elusive seven. In the end, Andy, shot off prematurely. Very prematurely - he left on the first amber, and later claimed confusion as Super Cup race pro tree and we race sportsman. Whatever, we reckon it was caused by him pressing the cigarette lighter instead of the transbrake button, but either way he ran a whopping 8.48 at 170mph but Russ took the win with his 10.1 at 135mph.

In other news, Ian was honing his full-boost, nitrous launches and not only managed to pick the front wheels right off the deck he also finally broke into the nines. And not just a bit - he broke right in there with a 9.57 at 133 and backed it up with a 9.64 at 132mph. Much celebration chez Walley, then, and a ling time coming, though I suspect his 0.83 and 0.79 second sixty-foots may have been a little optimistic, surely?

And that's your lot for this year. The final points standings are on www.nscc.info, congratulations to James Murray, our 2014 champion, and well done to all the runners-up. In fact, to everyone who took part - thanks. This year has marked a radical improvement in numbers for NSCC and, more importantly, there's seemed to be a lot more enthusiasm floating about. It's been a lot of fun, so thanks to everyone who has helped make it that way.

And talking of floating about, I'm off to find another roll of bum-tickets.

Eugene

Are You Startin'?

After finally having put the 32/36 Weber on the Pinto-powered Mustang ragtop, I've come to realise that manual choke conversion kits aren't that plentiful any more. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, seeing as the last car made with a carburettor probably rolled off the production line 20 years ago, but it still makes me righteously indignant.

Anyway, the latest issue with the bloody thing involved the starter motor. About a month ago, the sodding transmission cooler lines ruptured AGAIN, leading me to abandon the cooler built into the radiator and to repurpose the redundant air conditioning condenser radiator as a trans cooler. This merely involved cutting off half the rusty trans cooler pipes and replacing them with some thick-walled rubber hose. Don't use thin-wall - I found this to my cost when it burst within five miles last time around.

The new cooler works a treat - in fact, it's probably over-spec by about 200% as the fluid never seems to get warm - but I'd noticed that the starter motor had been getting a bit lazy. Sometimes it wouldn't turn over at all, and, suspecting the solenoid, a common fault on Foxes, I'd bridged the main terminals and got it to start. Then, after a trip of about seven miles to the local bearings and fasteners factors, it wouldn't start. I tried bridging the solenoid but ... nothing. I tried clubbing the starter with a hammer, and still nothing. I could hear the solenoid clicking closed, and could hear the arm that throws the pinion on the starter, but it wasn't turning. You can't push-start a C3 auto so I had no choice but to call the AA and tell them the starter was fubar. So, after waiting just over an hour (there was a pub nearby that sold London Pride which, although it sounds like a gay festival is actually a decent pint. Well, this one was pretty mediocre, but anyway...) the AA patrolman turns up and tells me my starter motor is fubar. Thanks. Fair play to the guy, though, he jacked the car up and whipped off the starter, connected it to his jump-start pack and, sure enough, the pinion shot out but the motor didn't turn one jot.

So, two hours later, a recovery truck arrives to haul the car three miles to the workshop. I'd told patrol-dude I was happy for him to flat-tow me for three miles but he wouldn't - not only might it damage the auto box, there's no towing eye on the front of a Fox.

A desperate plea went out on Faecebook and, having confirmed that a Euro Pinto starter motor will NOT fit, found out that a V8 starter WILL.

The Pinto starter (on the right) uses a three-bolt fixing, while the V8 uses two, but apparently a V8 starter will go on. God bless Billy 'Four-Speed' Cattell, who not only had a spare starter but was also heading to the Hot Rod Drags, where I was going the following day.

As you can see, Billy's starter is clean and painted while mine is foul and filthy, and I think this tells you everything you need to know about Billy and I. You'll also notice that the V8 starter is quite a bit larger around the body than the Pinto one (yes, I know, I'm a fine one to talk) and when it came to mount it, guess what was in the way? Yes, the remains of the sodding transmission cooler steel pipes. Well, if I just bend them out of the way here a fraction, bend them a fraction towards the sump here, then just a tiny little bend heSNAP. Bloody hell's teeth, I thought, with another few quids-worth of ATF dribbling into the gravel, there must be thruppence-worth of shonky steel pipe here but they've already caused me at least a grand's-worth of pain in my fudgy bunghole and they're STILL AT IT! Another cut'n'shut with some rubber pipe and I'm considering buying shares in the company that makes Jubilee clips.

I also had to drill out the terminal end on the starter cable by a mil or two to go over the stud on the V8 starter, which means putting the terminal in the Workmate, the drill biting into the brass, pulling it free and coiling up the starter cable while you get whipped by the loose end. I don't understand why some people pay for this sort of treatment...

The silver lining is that the car now starts with a minimum of fuss, and I may one day get around to stripping down the Pinto starter and trying to find the cause of its demise. I believe that being soaked in hot trans fluid from busted cooler pipes not once, not twice but FOUR times may have something to do with it...

The Uphill Gardeners

Right at the end of August, we all headed off to Shelsley Walsh, one of the hallowed grounds of UK motorsport heritage. On this weekend, though, they'd opened the doors to all manner of scruffy herberts, youngsters and other hoodies.

The Retro Rides Gathering is just that, a gathering, not particularly a show, organised by the Retro Rides online forum. It seems (from the outside) to be blessedly free of club politics and BS, and everyone with an interesting car is welcome. Note: interesting. Not necessarily the rarest, most expensive or laden with billet crap, just interesting. The rarity value they seem to prize isn't the most valuable, rather the car of which there are few left, the forgotten. And they genuinely seem to appreciate resourcefulness and engineering ingenuity rather than who can bung the most money at something. Yes, there were a few examples that make you scratch your head, like cars with preposterously extended and convoluted exhaust pipes like those oddball Japs do, and a few cars with one pint tyres on quart rims, but mostly it's just interesting older stuff. The average age of the car owners is also well below that of the usual rod run.

There were a handful of NSCC cars in the mix, such as Nigel's Anglia (above), many of whom were guests of Mick Wilkes' Wacky Racers, who had a display stand there. Phil Winstanley's Moggy was also there after a long absence.

The hill was open on a RWYB basis, although there was no timing so it was purely an opportunity to blast up the hill for fun. Wacky, god bless him, made several runs in the little Bedford van and was warned by the clerk of the course to take it easy after each one. They also invited him back at a later date to put a few timed runs in, saying that the Bedford was as quick out of the gates as many single-seaters...

It's a buzzing little event to go to, out in the middle of nowhere, and a tremendous atmos. Any pre-1990 NSCC car could have turned up and been welcomed into the fold. There were even a few familiar faces from Shakey there - I spotted a Huxley Falcon and Mr Mulligan's brown Buick. You also know you're west of the M5 by the fact that the bar had a couple of different ciders on tap. Looking for something a little different from the usual rod run? Give RRG a go next year.

Eugene

NSCC Rounds 8 & 9

Blimey, it only seems like two minutes since the last race report, but here's August's! And it's only bloody September! Please do not mistake this for efficiency, and I'd advise you don't expect this in the future.
August's bank holiday double-header at York didn't start very well for Saturday evening arrivals, beginning with Biff locking his keys in his Mustang in the queue to get in (a Mercedes key, provided by a helpful guy in the queue, fitted perfectly, apparently) and followed after dark by some torrential rain. This led to many people attempting to waterproof themselves from the inside out with beer. It doesn't work, but after a while it stops you giving a shit about being wet.

Even with Mr Murty Sr brushing and sledding the track at midnight, Sunday started cool and very damp, and it was a while before qualifying got under way. Nobody was expecting great things from the track, but Russ managed to put the Dutton on pole with a 10.5 at 135mph anyway. Next came Simon Boot in the Bootlegger Camaro at 11.54 and Derek's TVR at 11.8, then Jo Zyla in Eddie's Mitsubishi while her own car is still awaiting major engine surgery, easily rattling off a 13.2. James managed 13.5 in the Cortina, then Steve Gilmour back on form at 13.9 in his Cortina, then Mark Butterworth led the Fox charge three hundredths later. Biff's SN95 was down at 14.5, a whisker ahead of Tom Barker's Astra now sporting a 2.0 engine and a three-second jump in ETs. John Peace was way off form in the next Fox at 14.8, another Fox from Paul Davies at 15.0, then Shaun Wilson's fresh-out SN95 on 15.3. These bloody Mustangs are getting as common as muck. Andy Errington's TVR was down at 15.7, then Nigel's hot four-pot Anglia at 16.2, rounded out by Rick Swaine in the Viva at 17.7. It says a lot that 14.5 was enough for the bottom spot in the top half of the ladder.

Eliminations started with Bootlegger eliminating the Viva, 11.5 to 17.6, then Biff and Tom, only five hundredths apart in qualifying, suddenly went their separate ways, Biff to a 13.6 and Tom to a 16.0. James picked up some form to a 12.5 against Shaun's 15.1, likewise the Foxes of Mark and John both picked up almost half a second, the advantage going to Mark. Gilly got the sprightly MkI Cortina down to a 13.4 against Paul's 15.0, then Derek laid down a relatively gentle 13.0 to put Nigel out. Jo squeezed a 12.9 out of the Evo to Andy's 16.0, then Russ laid down an 11.7-second bye to finish off a first round that went entirely according to the form book.

Into the quarter finals, and Simon Boot opened the bidding with an 11.8 at a low 100mph to Mark's 13.5 at a more-like-it 101mph, then James repeated his 12.5 second form to see off Jo's Evo at 13.1. Russ belted out a 10.7 with Biff crossing the stripe three seconds later, before Derek ran 13.1 with half a second to spare against Steve. Again, all to the form book.

The first of the two semis threw up a bit of a conundrum, Derek apparently running a 7.6 against Simon's 10.5, both of them crossing the line at 128mph. Simon got the win light, though, so maybe it was Derek's apparent 4.2 second reaction that lost him the race. All Derek has to do now is to back up that 7.6 within 1% and he can really stick it to the Twister... Meanwhile, Russ ran an easy 11.2 to end James's day and set up the finals.

That last run had produced some rather funny noises from Derek's TVR, Derek tracing the problem to a split weld on the manifold. If only...
In the final, Simon, on tyres with the remaining structural integrity of a novelty condom, managed to launch hard, picking the wheels up on a 0.5 reaction and rattle off a 10.7 at 129mph. Brilliant, but wily Russ always leaves something in the bag, which he whipped out now and dropped a 9.70-bomb to take the win. Wow.
It should also be pointed out that Derek, Russ and Simon were the last three remaining in the annual Street Racer Shootout running concurrently with NSCC, and Simon managed to put the "hot favourite" out with a 10-second blast, then Russ won overall to take the honours and the prize purse.
The evening saw the KC Cackle on the startline, then a pick-your-own cruise led everyone a merry dance around the countryside before returning to site to enjoy the band and sink another few ales.

Sadly, there was more overnight rain to endure from Sunday night into Monday morning, and Monday started late with a marginal track. The first round of qualifying was run, with the track telling us that that was all we were likely to get, with them running the RWYBers up as cannon-fodder for most of the morning. Then, at lunchtime, with a view to finally running American Super Stock, Super Cup and the like, they glued the track. Sadly, half an hour later, with A/SS midway through their first qualifier, a proper shower of rain came along. This, on top of the freshly-prepped track, gave indications of putting the tin hat on the rest of the day's proceedings. A kangaroo court was convened somewhere in the NSCC pits, and the majority voted to abandon the day.

The rain persisted down for the next hour or so while everyone was packing up, but those who stayed were treated to a track almost to themselves later in the day, and some classes ran to completion. A bit of a whimper to end a weekend that should have gone with a bang, but at least the points could be awarded based on qualifying times. The piss-poor luck award either goes to Russ, who missed the first and what would turn out to be the only qualifying round on Monday, or to Lee who turned up to race his El Camino only to be booted at scrutineering for only having lap belts.

It all certainly gives James a hell of a lead in the championships. In fact, James could hang up his crash hat right now and be almost certain of lifting the trophy at the end of the year. But you never know - we're now into the last month of NSCC 2014, and with many, many people still yet to qualify, it's heading for the Last Chance Saloon with the finals just a couple of weeks away. It's all getting jolly exciting...

Eugene

NSCC Rounds 6 & 7

Yes, with rounds 8 and 9 having happened just over a week ago, I suppose I'd better fill in the race report for rounds 6 and 7 that happened way back in July.

It was, unfortunately, the weekend of July 12th and 13th, which happened to coincide with Dragstalgia down at Santa Pod, an event that called plenty of the usual suspects away. And who could blame them - Dragstalgia featured some real crowd-pullers, not least a pair of old-school Fuel Altereds and a Gasser all the way from the States. By all accounts, it was a blinder of a weekend and NSCC lunatic Andy Hadfield managed to run his first seven in the road-legal Twister T, so buns all round.

This did leave a rather depleted field up at York, of course, with all classes running a skeleton crew. NSCC managed a scant seven qualifiers on the Saturday, headed by Simon 'Bootlegger' Boot on a 10.8 at 128mph, followed by James Murray on 12.7 at 111. John Peace wrung a 13.3 out of the blown Fox, with Knobby Colquhoun a shade behind on 13.5, then Paul Davis in the four-eye Fox Mustang (a car which I'm sure appeared in NSCC in different hands many years ago) on 14.4, Steve Gilmour on 14.7, and newcomer Tom Barker in an Astra on 17.4.

So, a pair of GMs bookending a field of Fords. With only seven players, round one of eliminations was also the quarter finals so plenty of points and more buns all round. Simon ran an 11.1 on a bye run, and why not, while James took Tom out 13.8 to 17.6. Knobby knocked Paul out 13.4 to 14.8 and John got a mighty holeshot on Gilly to make sure of his place in the semis. Although Gilly got a 90.0000mph terminal, possibly the most OCD terminal ever witnessed.

In the semis, Simon ran a relatively sedate 11.9 to finish Knobby's day, while John pulled a cherry trying to repeat his holeshot against James. In the final, Simon handed James three tenths on the line but then got his own back by winning with a second and a half in hand. And that was it. The day was over, done and dusted before 4pm, leaving everybody chance to sit around scratching their suntans and topping up their knackers for a couple of hours before we all went out on a cruise. Possibly. I can't remember. I expect there was a large dinner involved, and possibly a couple of beers upon our return, but I'm not going to swear to anything. I can't remember what happened this morning, never mind two months ago.

Sunday, and we woke up to another gorgeous morning and a couple of extra cars to swell the ranks. Firstly, the "if shit was lucky I'd be constipated" award goes to Stuart Harrison, who brought his super-duper Supra all the way down from Darlington only to shear all the propshaft bolts in the burnout before qualifying.

It sadly wasn't done in time for second qualifiers, so he came a long way to be a spectator... Nevertheless, we still ended up with 10 qualifiers. The top of the ladder looked similar, topped by Simon on 11.0 but now chased by Ian Walley on 11.1, James on 12.7 and Knobby on 13.8. Everybody else seemed to be struggling for form, though, with Shaun Cockcroft's Crossflow MkII Escort nipping into fifth with a 15.02 ahead of Paul's 15.08, John languishing at 15.4, and Lee Openshaw's Punto's 15.50 nudging Gilly's 15.57 down into ninth with Tom shoring up the field on a 17.3.

In round one, Simon dispatched Tom by a clear five and a half seconds, though Simon's 94mph terminal didn't bode well. In the Cortina match-up, Ian pulled a 10.8 out of his bottom to shut down Gilly's 15.4 while Knobby redlit his chances away against John. Paul was gifted a win when Shaun's Escort plummeted to 17.0, then James's no-gas 13.7 was enough to see off Lee's Fiat and set up the quarter finals.

In the quarters, John suddenly found 13-second form again but it wasn't enough to beat James's 12.9 despite his dozy reactions. Simon, on a bye, just broke the beams then backed up to wait for the semis, not wanting to chance anything on such a baking hot day, then Ian ended Paul's run of luck with another 10.8 to Paul's 14.7.

So, Simon was sat at the startline waiting for James to come around and run the semis. He as ready, too, and clicked off a stout 11.3 to James's 13.1 to take his place in the finals. Ian, meanwhile, just had to break the beams on his bye, then back up and wait.

Which is what he did. In the end, Simon left like a man possessed with a 0.52 light and ran an 11.4 at 121mph. Ian, meanwhile, left the line 0.4 seconds later but got to the line just shy of 0.5 seconds quicker on a 10.9 at 126. It must have been as tight as a mermaid's minge at the top end, but the win light came on in Ian's lane and Sunday's trophy went back to Darlington. Simon had a damn good time and took home a trophy and 3900 points from the weekend. Everyone else went home covered in grit and sweat having had a really good, sunny weekend despite the lower-than-we're used to turnout. And, who knows, before the final we might even have the write-up for the August meet! Points and dates are on www.nscc.info.

Eugene

The late, late race report - NSCC Round 5

By crikey, it's now August and, as I remembered when I found the round sheets, there's been no race report for the Spring Bank Holiday event way back in May! I'd better correct that, although aside from the data provided by York themselves, I can't remember a damn thing that happened so, once again, some of this tale is likely to be absolute fabrication and complete nonsense. Mind you, most race reports read like that anyway.

Although this was a two-day event at York, NSCC was only down to appear on the Monday. Many NSCCers had signed up for the inaugural UK Power Tour which started in Rye on the Saturday, went to Shakey on the Sunday and up to York on the Monday, so it would have been silly to hold NSCC at York over both days. As it transpired, only four NSCCers could be arsed to do the Power Tour, and as it further transpired they did pretty damn well for themselves with Derek Beck finishing second overall on an average 12.06 ET, James Murray fourth on 12.34 and John Peace 10th on 13.91. Erstwhile NSCC winner Mick Wilkes managed third on 12.11 and took the fastest four-pot trophy.

As it happens, the Sunday at York was a rain-off anyway, and when the Power Tourers arrived there was a soggy scene to greet them, along with a mountain of Volkswagens. The Monday was a lot clearer, I think, and with the valiant Power Tourers in the mix, there were 15 cars qualified for NSCC. Top of the heap was the Bootlegger on 11.09 at 126mph, followed by the nitrous-snorting TVR of Derek Beck on 11.78. Robert 'Knobby' Colquhoun in the bright orange Focus was fourth on 13.6, then Biff Bailey was back out to play with the SN95 Mustang on 14.1. In a complete turnaround from previous NSCC events, the average was a lot slower meaning that Andy Errington's TVR on a 15.2 was in the top half of the ladder... Rick Swaine had 17.6 from the newly-Pintoed Viva, leaving bump spot to Mark Presland.

Straight into eliminations, with Simon rattling off an 11.1-second bye. Jo Zyla didn't show with a death-rattling Toyota, leaving Andy to cruise to a 16.1 solo, while Derek conserved nitrous against Mark. Dec's Golf didn't record a time - I can't remember why - leaving Biff to run another solo, while James' 13.6 saw off Scott Presland's 18.2. Knobby's 13.8 ended Rick's day, John Peace rattled off a 14.0 against Nigel Henderson's 105E, then Lee Openshaw redlit against Dave Smith in the Fox Mustang.

In the second heat, Simon drilled his mate Andy 11.3 to 15.3, James hammered John 13.6 to 15.0, Knobby screwed Biff 13.5 to 15.6, and to round of all this DIY, Derek made a charming breakfast nook in various complementing neutral shades for Dave 13.0 to 15.0.

Right, third heat, which was also the semi finals. Simon battered Knobby 10.7 to 13.5, while James covered Derek in a light yet flavoursome parsley sauce 12.63 to 12.64 - a race that was won on the line with James having turned the gas on and Derek seeming to have run out.

Finals time, and James, having covered several hundred miles in the Cortina during the preceding two days found that the impending quarter-mile would be the most crucial. He got over a third of a second drop on Simon at the green, but Simon responded with a 10.9 that James's 12.7 just couldn't touch, holeshot or not. Full points for the Bootlegger and a long ride home for all those who joined in the Power Tour, a total distance that ranged from 700 miles for Dave and James to 800+ for Derek.

And that was the May event. At this rate, you should be expecting the July report sometime around Halloween...

Odd Sized Balls

The "Sheep In Wolf's Clothing" Mustang finally passed its test in June, and so, at the end of the month, it got a fresh tax disc. I didn't mind paying £230 for a year's road tax - less than £20 a month seems like a small price to pay for roads that are the envy of the rest of the world. And so, at the beginning of July, it hit the streets. I even gave it a damn good wash, wax and buff-up, mainly because in between the MoT and the tax, it was parked under a tree. A cherry tree. A cherry tree that was home to a lot of pigeons. And pigeon shite with cherry stones in it is surprisingly hard to shift - I wasn't sure which would be more appropriate to shift them, a pressure washer or a nine-iron.

During the cleaning process, the dog decided to have a kip on the driver's seat. A delightful shower of small leaves fluttered down with every light breeze, a fact that didn't stop the dog getting her 40 winks, and she ended up covered in the damn things. Bone idle creature.

It didn't seem to matter, as after two weeks of driving the car I was all but ready to get shut of it - I wasn't getting along with it at all. It was utterly, totally gutless, more than even a smog-motor 2.3 Pinto and C3 auto had any right to be. Getting up even the slightest gradient was touch-and-go, and pulling out of junctions into traffic was brown trousers time. And worst of all, I was getting around 16-18mpg.

I took it over to James so we could attack the blowing manifold-to-downpipe issue - the studs were so worn that the M12 nuts wouldn't tighten up. Having whipped the manifold off, James discovered that the reason the M12 nuts wouldn't tighten up was that the studs were actually 7/16" UNC. It was late at night, and James didn't have any 7/16", so he drilled and tapped a couple of M10s... how cool's that? We also removed the spark plugs - snapping two in the process - and found evidence of extremely weak mixture and/or extra advance. I stripped the carb down - a Holley copy of a Weber - and it looked perfect, it was like new inside. I put it back together and, lo and behold, not a jot of difference. I asked James if he had a Weber from a 2.0 Pinto; he replied "Hold on, I've got a bag of them round here somewhere." Indeed he had - he found a rat-proof bag with three Webers in it.

Later, I checked ignition timing again, and noticed that at TDC, the rotor arm wasn't pointing directly at number one terminal on the dizzy cap. Hmmm ... it seemed that the cam belt had jumped a notch. Putting that right made... huh, pretty much bugger-all difference. I put the best of James's three Webers on, and it seemed a bit healthier but the throttle linage was completely different, and while you can unbolt the levers from the spindle on the Euro-Weber, the US version had the levers peened onto the shaft.

Then, on my way home from work one day, I stopped via Wacky Racers and Wacky Mick lent me a Weber from a 3.0 Capri. This had a ball-joint throttle linkage just like the Holley/Weber, so a short while ago I dropped it on.

It went straight on, and all was groovy until I tried to attach the throttle cable. Damnation, the ball on the 3.0 Weber was much bigger than the one on the Holley. However, there was a bit of linkage left on Wacky's carb, so it was time for a bit of on-the-spot engineering...

Well shag me bandy and call me Rolf, it's like a different car... and in a good way. The carb instantly idled exactly as it should, and though there's no kickdown linkage and it's clearly way too much carb for the engine, there's actually a bit of life to the engine now, where previously you'd have found more life in a tramp's vest. It's still not going to spin the wheels but at least it's not dangerous, and on the first tank it returned 23mpg...!

Last weekend was a busy one, too. I headed down to the Mopar Euronats at Santa Pod on Friday evening, went to the Silverstone Classic on Saturday, then back to Santa Pod on Saturday night and all day Sunday. It was SPF50, hood-down weather almost all weekend, although the overall NSCC count at the event was low and James and I ended up camped next to a gentleman who suffered a beer-induced psychotic event late on Friday night culminating in the attempted murder of the imaginary intruder in his tent...

While Russ and Shaun Pursley managed a string of low-nine-second NPBs at the event, poor Jamie Hughes managed to blow up the Land Rover again. Honestly, if bad luck was beer, Jamie would be pissed until Christmas.

There's a whole month to go until the next race meeting at York, so there's plenty of time to try to get the Pinto Fox up to scratch...

Eugene

Test Ease

The Annoying Orange passed its MoT this morning! Yes, the sheep in wolf's clothing now has 12 months ticket, no advisories, no nothing.

This is it on that glorious weekend we had in the middle of May when me and Sam decided we were going to give it a damn good clean. I know - me, cleaning a car! We cleaned it, T-Cut it, waxed it, cleaned the black mildew off the hood, the whole nine yards. At the last minute, though, Sam decided he didn't want to be in the picture...

This is the mighty 2.3 Pinto, carburetted, C3 auto, a real performance piece. Not. It only had about 20,000 miles on it, and it breezed the MoT. The only problem is, I set the timing by ear, and it turned out to be gutless even by smog motor four-pot standards. It hasn't got enough power to pull back a dead wombat's foreskin. I checked the timing after the test and I'd set it to about 25 degrees BTDC. I turned it back to where it should be - 6 degrees BTDC - and it promptly stalled. It'll run at about 12 degrees, but anything less than that and it shudders and hops about on its mounts like a nit on a griddle. Any ideas?

On the same weekend, I also gave the daily driver Fox a bit of a wash and brush-up.

See, you can polish a turd! I even tried using the electric mop thing to T-Cut it, but the extension lead would only reach far enough to do the bonnet and nearside wing, and reverse gear's packed up and I couldn't be bothered to move it, so it has a really shiny bonnet and part of the driver's door and A-pillar.

Some parts of the A-pillar aren't that shiny, though, like the bit around the top hinge which has rusted so much that the door drops noticeably when you open it. This discovery was about as welcome as a sudden and violent bout of fizzing bum-honk in a wedding dress. A rented wedding dress. During the service.

The Thursday after that I was at Millbrook for work, and had to park the car nose-in to a guardrail. There was a shuttle-bus service to the place I was going, and just after lunchtime it threw it down with rain so I thought I'd bugger off. I got in the minibus along with this old Irish dude, and the driver asked us which our cars were so he could drop us off. The old Irish guy said "A red Mini", and I said "A Ford Mustang." "Oh yeah, I know that one," said the driver. Shite, I thought, has it leaked all over the place, caught fire, has the door fallen off? Nope, the driver has a Mustang too, a 1970 notchback. The old Irish guy started telling me how he'd just been in San Francisco, at some museum or other, giving a talk and how they had some lovely Mustangs etc. A really nice guy. When we got to my car, he said, "Sorry, who are you?" I told him my name, and he said, "Nice to meet you, my name's Paddy Hopkirk." Fist me bandy, Paddy Hopkirk! I didn't recognise him until he said that, but after that it was really obvious! I resisted the temptation to say, "Hey, I've got one of your roof-racks!"

On the way back from there, I dropped by at Santa Pod. It was the Peak Performance Test'n'Tune before the Main Event, and I wanted to see Steve's Bentley run, but Santa Pod was awash. The road from the ticket barrier was flooded, and caused my alternator to cack its knickers and stop charging. I got to the pits, and found Steve's Bentley on stands in a couple of inches of water, and nobody to be seen - everyone was sheltering from the weather, apart from one bloke down by tech inspection who was building a boat and loading it with animals. Mark Todd came running in - he was crewing for Steve - and said that they'd run an 8.4 with no boost that morning, but nothing had run that afternoon. So I buggered off, fording the river again and got to Wellingborough before the alternator kicked back in. Unfortunately, the combination of piss-wet-through driver and nice warm heater caused half the car's vinyl headlining to come detached from its cardboard backing and slap me on the back of the head.

The following day I had time to prepare the car for the first UK Power Tour. I prepared by slinging the race tyres in the boot and sticking the headlining back up with a bit of masking tape. Much later, I remembered to check the oil. James and I convoyed down the M40 - I'd forgotten how much fun the convoy thing could be - and arrived at Rye at about 1.30am. Par for the course. The following day, we headed for Rye Mini Drag Strip.

This was the NSCC contingent at Rye, with Derek seemingly saying, "OK, come on, really, where's the strip?" It's the most basic of grass-roots places but it had a place to race, a bog and a tea wagon so what more do you want? It's only a 120-yard dash with an 80-yard bum-clenching shut-down, but, speaking to the owner/promoter, there's more to come from this place.

After that it was up to Shakey for Yanks/Gary's on the Sunday, but the place was rammed and a few oil-downs meant plenty of queuing time and few runs. That evening we all headed up to York where there was a VW festival with a huge marquee and a couple of decent bands on. On the Monday, in the brackets, I found I was way ahead of my opponent so laid on the anchors and went over the line with the wheels locked. I'd still broken out massively, but was two hundredths off my PB, so God knows what it'd have run if I hadn't anchored up. Even at death's door, there's still life in the old bugger!

Talking of life, it was good to see John Sleath's Duramax diesel pick-up out, shaking down gently with two low 10s and a 9.8 on its first ever test. There's more to come, though, as those turbos are the size of dustbins.

Now all I have to do is try to coax another month or so out of the Fox while I save up for a tax disc on the orange Pinto!

Eugene

NSCC Rounds 3 and 4

NSCC Rounds 3 and 4

May 4^th 5^th

Well, seeing as we've just run Round Five I thought I might get the report for the previous two rounds written up. Unfortunately, as I suffer from CRS, I've almost entirely forgotten what happened, so some of what you read here is complete fiction and fabrication. Or possibly it isn't. I don't know – I can't remember. Now what am I doing here again? Yes! Round write-ups.

Right, so back to the 4^th of May; May The Fourth Be With You and all that shite. After a couple of tins and a good night's kip the previous night, there was much pluviosity afoot on the Sunday morning which didn't bode well. Still, it dried up fairly quickly, I think, though I may have imagined it. Anyway, there were some heavy hitters out for qualifying. Top of the pile was Andy Hadfield in the recently re-motored Twister T-bucket, and he set the benchmark high with an 8.95 at 154mph. Next was HRG15, and I can't remember who that was so I'll just look on www.nscc.info, and while I'm at it I'll just check Facebook …

… ah, yes, it's Ian Walley with a 10.3 at 129mph showing more to come, followed by HRG11, now who's that again? I'll look on www.nscc.info again and I must just check that eBay auction I've been watching...

… of course, it's Simon Boot with a 10.88 at 127mph. I wish some of you cockshites would fill in your announcer's info slips at York so I don't keep having to do this. Quick was the word, though, as 13.0 was only good enough for eighth spot – Paul Hughes in the blown Fox was there – then there was a two-second jump to Shaun Cockcroft in the hot Crossflow-powered Escort on 15.0, then Shaun struggling to control the boost on the Syclone in 10^th. Mark Butterworth with the old Y-block F100 was revelling in the delights of a three-speed manual on the column but surprised himself with a 17.9, while Lee Ward was struggling to get the El Camino hooked up and was tailing the pack in 19^th with a 19.8. Bad luck award for the day went to newcomer Robert 'Knobby' Colquhoun in the lairy Focus ST, who managed to bust his halfshafts in the burnout before his first qualifying attempt.

The sun was scorching in between the snow showers, and as soon as it melted the ice cap at the top end of the track we got into round one. Though that might have been a dream I had. Any road up, in round one, the midfielders faced off first with Andy Errington's TVR sneaking past Shaun's struggling Syclone 15.2 to 15.3, followed by Shaun Cockcroft beating Dec Hughes' Golf with a quicker reaction. Paul Hughes ran 13.8 to see off Nigel's smart little Zetec Anglia, while Fadster took it easy on his bye with a 9.5, still managing to card a 162mph terminal... Jamie Hughes was clearly sandbagging with a 12.8 in qualifying, as he managed to whip a 10.4 out of the hat to put Dave Smith out, then Simon waited 2.7 seconds on the line before taking off to run 12.9 against Rick Swaine's 19.3. Russ Pursley comprehensively hammered Scott Presland, then Lee Ward picked up two seconds but would have needed another seven and a half to stop Ian Walley. James Murray ran a 13.8 against Mark Presland's 18.6, then Keith Freeman polished off the round by pulling a 12.0 out of his bottom to beat an ever-improving Mark Butterworth in the classic Ford hauler.

Between rounds one and two, the capacity crowd in the grandstand was treated to a spot of culture in the shape of the entire Murty family performing their Kabuki Japanese theatre-style interpretation of that Chuckle Brothers episode where Barry and Paul have to paint a battleship. Again, I may have dreamed this. Definitely the bit about the capacity crowd, anyway.

We started round two with something of an upset in the race between Jamie's Land Rover and Russ's Dutton. Both guys red-lit, and although Jamie ran a whopping 10.0 to Russ's 11.0, Russ got the win under the 'first or worst' rule. Next up, Simon's Camaro ended Paul Hughes's run, the Camaro carding a 12.30, then Keith Freeman plopped an 11.7 on the table to end James's day. Andy Errington red-lit trying to get the drop on Andy Hadfield, but he'd have had to have a drop like the Enola Gay to have beaten Fadster's 8.69 at 162mph. Talking of an atomic meltdown, Ian Walley managed a 10.8 against Shaun Cockcroft's little Escort, but went over the line in a cloud of smoke that even woke the fire engine driver. Ian won the race, but that was his weekend over as having your pistons in a puddle in the sump is considered bad from an engineering perspective.

What made it worse is that Ian should have been on a bye into the semis in the following round, but the car was too sick to even break the beams. Gutted. It also meant that there were two pairs in the quarter finals, which confused everyone else even more. In the first pairing, Russ ran a strong 11.0 to put Simon out, while Keith Freeman ran a valiant 11.8 against on-a-mission Andy's 8.47 at 169mph.

This meant that the semi finals comprised of just Russ and Andy, both on solos, so both just broke the beams then backed up again for the final. It was a magnificent sight looking down the strip in the late evening sunset, the heat haze shimmering off the desert sand on either side of the track while multi-hued tropical birds swooped around the oasis on the return road and the mournful song of the Bedouin … hold on, never mind that last bit, I may possibly be over-elaborating. Either way, these two scruffy herberts lined up and were away, Russ having the slightly better reaction but his 10.9 was nowhere near enough to cover a blistering 8.24 at 170mph from the flying Fadster.

Another corking day's racing, but with some casualties along the way. Gasket still hadn't solved his over-boosting problems, and these were later accompanied by gears going hidey in the transmission. Dave Smith had a similar problem, except it was just reverse that had disappeared from his. Ian's Cortina was definitely out for the count but that didn't stop him helping patch up Knobby's driveshafts so he could at least get to the Barnes Wallis for the cruise. Yes, the Barnes was the place to be for a full nosebag with live music from Motley Crue on the final date of their farewell tour. Tremendous. Or I may have just listened to them on my iPod on the way back. But I don't have an iPod.

Anyway, you're confusing me now so, after a good night's sleep and a very welcome sauna and massage at the Seaton Ross Hilton, there was just time for a swift 18 holes before qualifying opened on bank holiday Monday morning. Despite the handful that were whores du combat from the previous day, another handful of brave souls had stepped into the breach to give us another 19-car field. Andy Hadfield topped the bill again with an 8.8, followed by Jamie on a 10.1 and Russ on 11.0. Simon Boot was closer to form with an 11.4 followed by Keith's 11.9, while in at number eight was Paul Everitt in a smart Rover-powered Pop running 14.9. Lee Openshaw was in the house with his blown Punto to re-engage in the war with his mate Dec, Lee Ward was closer to where he should be in the small-block El Camino with a 16.3 in 14^th place, while Gasket had dropped to the bottom of the heap in the sickly Syclone, his 19.02 at 72.47 just sneaking in behind Rick's 19.00 at 72.45mph.

We all lined up in the staging lanes, watching a herd of majestic Wildebeest sweep across the East Riding veldt on their way to wallow and frolic in the vast lake of slurry and pig shit at the top of the return road, and it certainly made us all feel grateful that we weren't hamsters. Waking us from our reverie was Andy Fadster, chasing the title of fastest doorslammer at York (despite the goalposts constantly moving – I blame that continental drift, myself) and opening the bidding with an 8.26 at 173mph on his first-round bye. Paul Hughes was gifted the win by a red-lighting Lee Ward, followed by an old skool Ford showdown with Paul Everitt's Pop besting Nigel's 105E. Russ Pursley put Rick Swain eight seconds to the deficit, while Keith Freeman pulled a similar trick on Scott Presland's Pop. Scott's cloned twin, Mark Presland, however, fared better when Simon Boot threw away a seven second advantage by red-lighting, followed by James Murray pulling a similar trick and giving Mark Butterworth a free trip to the second round. Shaun Wilson recovered some form to card a 15.8, but Jamie Hughes had him covered in the next lane with a mighty 9.93 at 137mph. Lee Openshaw scored a result in his ongoing grudge-match with Dec Hughes as Andy Errington's red-light put Lee through to the next round while Dave Smith just squeaked ahead of Dec to put him out for the day.

It had been a tense first round, not helped by the discovery just before lunch of the exceptionally rare – thought to be extinct – Trackbite Newt living in the grass at the side of the strip and occasionally jumping out to nibble away at the track prep. The local Environmental dudes slapped a preservation order and a cease and desist writ on the whole gaff, but after James Murray and Gasket headed off to petition the appeal court, the whole thing was overturned when it was discovered that the newt sighting was nothing more than a half-chewed Haribo that Al Perkins had lost during a sneezing fit at the previous meeting. Thank God for that, we could get on with the second heat.

It started with Russ Pursley laying down a 10.8 at 124 to bring Paul Everitt's day to an end. Keith Freeman ended Mark Butterworth's good fortune, 11.4 to 17.4, while Paul Hughes did likewise for Mark Presland, 13.7 to 18.6 and Jamie did for Lee 9.9 to 16.1. Jamie sat for four seconds, spooling up on the line, just to unleash bloody hell on Lee. In a similar fashion, the only way Dave could have topped Andy's 8.8 would have included an eighth-mile of bungee rope between the two cars.

The quarters went according to the form book, Russ's 10.8 putting Paul Hughes out, and Jamie rattling off a 10.2 on his bye. The two old Ford rods were quite a match-up, Keith's 11.7 not standing up against Andy's 8.55 at 169mph though.

There was a small drama in the semi finals, as Russ's opponent Mike Bye had a bit of an emotional meltdown and announced that he was abandoning the soul-crushing daily grind of being a circus performer and was running off to join a troupe of travelling chartered accountants, leaving Russ to run 11.6 unopposed. Immediately afterwards, though, it was all high-speed fun as Jamie clocked off a storming 9.70 at 143mph, but that still couldn't come close to Fadster's 8.25 at 168mph.

And so the scene was set for the final. Russ in the featherweight small-block Dutton; Fadster in the brain-scramblingly hard-hitting wheelbarrow-dodging T-strainer. The short odds were on the T, but upsets have been known to happen and … as should happen in any good narrative, that's exactly what happened here, albeit in a rather disappointing fashion. As the two proponents headed for the line, the excitement caused the T-bucket to turn into a wee-bucket and have a trousers-accident in the fire-up lane. It was only a small radiator leak, but rather than hold up proceedings trying to patch up a car that had already suffered enough of a pasting that weekend, Andy gallantly bowed out leaving Russ to run a solo 11.1 to take the trophy and maximum points for the day.

Another superb double-header, only slightly marred by Vladimir Putin walking onto the startline and proclaiming “Right, I'm having zis, too” before being dragged off by his missus. Although I can't remember exactly what happened, I'm sure I managed to blend the fact and the fiction together seamlessly enough to convey that it was a terrific weekend of fun, on and off the track, and even those pesky alligators couldn't spoil it for us. Cheeky buggers, walking around like they own the place when they're nothing more than some rather camp cowboy boots waiting to happen. Anyway, see you next time.

Eugene  

The Annoying Orange

Some things have been happening to the metalflake orange Fox convertible. Not as many things as need doing, and nowhere near as quickly as I'd like, but they're happening. First, the silver rolling shell that I bought in for spares arrived looking like this:

It's now looking like this:

A bundle of bits have been sold; the rest have been stashed in the unit, mostly on top of the rust-free Fox shell that's in there so it now looks like Mount Foxshite. 

On the annoying orange front, I dropped the fuel tank and the original 8.8" back axle - the latter needs returning to the previous owner.

I decanted the fuel into the daily driver, and removed the in-tank electric fuel pump. The new motor won't take 45psi from the electric pump, so I just replaced it with a length of rubber pipe and some cable ties. Hurrah for cable ties!

I cut a notch in the bottom of the pipe so that, should it touch the bottom of the tank it won't seal itself off. I also replaced the fuel filter The one that came off was a Motorcraft one, which means that either a previous owner was very fastidious about using OE-spec parts, or, more likely, it was the one it left the factory with 22 years and 92,000 miles previously. I know that after I emptied the residual fuel out of it, I tried to blow through it and nearly shat myself with the force required to get the tiniest breath of air through it. I replaced it with a UFI pattern filter made in Tunisia, that well-known industrial centre of excellence, which was so easy to blow through that I almost expected a party streamer to come out of the other end accompanied by a feeble "parp" noise. It also has to be said that if you want to change the fuel filter on a fuel-injected Fox, removing the axle first makes the job a shed-load easier.

With the 8.8" out, I got the 7.5" axle ready to go in. I'd already replaced the wheel cylinders, so I took the brake pipes and flexi off the 8.8 and fitted them to the 7.5". The original arrangement from the 7.5 wouldn't link up with the car's brake lines - they're routed differently to clear the dual exhausts - hence using the 8.8 gear, but with the car up on stands and the axle hanging down, the 8.8 flexi was being stretched tighter than Susan Boyle's knicker elastic. It must just be the fact that the axle casing is so much smaller than the 8.8's. 

While I was under there, I noticed that one of the upper arms had a rather baggy bush.

It's never pleasant finding a baggy bush. Oddly, the axle end bush had been changed recently, but at the body end, the rubber was halfway out of the housing. I dropped the arm out, and the bush was truly buggered.

The system on the fox is very similar to the old MkIV Cortina, and while I've seen plenty of ruined void bushes on those, I've never seen one where the rubber bush has got scared of the dark and is making a break for it. 

The advantage of having several tons of Fox spares (there had to be ONE advantage) is that a replacement arm with reasonable bushes is merely a trip to the shelves full of shite away. Anyway, the axle is now on, the brakes have been fully rebuilt - after a brief recap on the process when I discovered that I'd fitted both trailing shoes to the same drum...), the prop's back on and the exhaust - the original 4-pot one - has been fitted. I think it'll take a bit of tweaking to not rattle against the rear lower GT skirt, but it's all coming together...

... and just as well, because at the last round of racing, reverse gear has disappeared from the daily's transmission. It's looking less like it'll make it to the expiry of its MoT in July, and it has the Power Tour to do at the end of this month.