2015 at the Hot Rod Gazette

It's the end of 2015, the revellers will be out, the A&E, ambulances and police on standby, and there's a whole new year just over the horizon. Hooray... I'll be staying in, tonight, looking forward to comforting a petrified dog when everyone starts letting off fireworks at midnight. Honestly, nobody in this piss-ant little town has any money, yet every halloween, bonfire night, Christmas, new year, and any other day that ends in a Y, about £20,000 goes up in smoke with accompanying pops, bangs, whizzes etc. Bastards.

So how's 2015 been in retrospect? I think it's been a damn good year. Lots of people out enjoying their cars, lots of events, plenty of buzz in the NSCC, 15,000 views on this blog... not bad. NSCC was won overall by Douglas in his Skyline, which I think is the first time a Japanese car has won the NSCC overall - correct me if I'm wrong. It's strong, quick, consistent and reliable, and has been just about everywhere this year. And that's what it's all about (Oi!).

There were a few rain-offs over the course of the year, but very few events were totally ruined. What's of more concern is the flooding over the past couple of weeks, with Hot Rod & Hills organiser Craig, and the venue, Pooley Bridge, really copping for it. We can only hope that everyone gets back on their feet quickly.

Towards the end of the year, I went to the NEC for the Classic Car Show. I went on the Friday, and man, the place was rammed. This surprised me, as at £20-odd for a ticket and £12 just to park your damn car, I expected more people would have voted with their feet. Still, there was some good stuff to see, beautiful classics, rodder-fodder and everything in between. Two of the standout cars for me were actually Ford Capris, this clean early MkI making me think of the one owned by the current NSCC champ...

The other, meanwhile, was dressed up as a Seventies circuit racer in JPS colours and drew a right crowd.

All good fun. Since then, there's not been much occurring although, against all expectations, I have actually been making some progress in the workshop. The bare Fox Mustang shell has been media-blasted, etch-primed, rattle-canned, had rear suspension mount reinforcements fitted, a patch let into the floor pan around a cracked seat bolt, and the entire underside covered in a rather funky super-durable Eastwood chassis-black which went on as easily as possible. With that done, I decided to paint the inside of the car up to the waistline in regular chassis black. I did the first coat with 20% thinner, and the finish was .... well, it was bastard awful.

It was like glossy 120-grit wet'n'dry. For the next coat, I thinned it to 50% and that worked a lot better, although I'm still glad nobody will ever see it. So, with three coats on the underside and three coats on the inside, I do believe I've spent more of December trying to wash thick, black synthetic/enamel paint off my face and hands than doing any other single activity with the possible exception of sleeping. Each coat takes about half an hour to spray, followed by an hour to clean the damn gun. The next job is to have subframe connectors welded on. I'm going to tack them in place myself but a local hot rodder, Tony (who is an MoT tester by trade, and is about to open a new station about a mile and a half from my house - happy Christmas to me!) is going to do the actual welding. I don't trust my own welding for something so structural, especially as the subframe connectors and attaching brackets are made from really thick-wall tubing, and in some places they have to be welded to some really thin-wall chassis legs made out of Ford's finest...

Still, just before Christmas I got a present from the States. It's a nice big present - to put it in context, the bonnet it's sitting on belongs to a 1954 Chevrolet - and is full of DEI Boom Mat sound deadening and heat-shield material. This should be one comfortable road car...

So, as 2015 splutters to a halt and 2016 gets into gear, have a superb new year's eve, eat, drink, be merry and all that shite, and may the new year bring you health, wealth, and happiness. And if you can't be any or all of those things, be Timmy. Always be Timmy.

Happy New Year!

Eugene

PS - It's 7.50pm, and the bloody fireworks have started...

NSCC Finals

September was a busy month, with the ever-popular NSRA Hot Rod Drags over the 12^th and 13^th, followed by the hotly-anticipated NSCC finals the following weekend. The HRDs were terrific as ever, with the weather coming along to spoil parts of Friday and the last bit of Saturday, but otherwise race-party-race-party-race … which is how it should be.

The following Saturday, a lovely day saw the faithful heading Yorkwards mid-afternoon to set up camp ready for a full Sunday's racing. Cruising towards the track from Howden, Simon Boot's crew wagon was already parked smack in front of the Barnes Wallis and looked like it had been there a while, and didn't look like moving any time soon. A quick set-up at the track then led to everyone heading back to the Barnes for a scran. We'd booked seats for 15 arses, and had all chipped in to buy the landlady a lovely bouquet and a big box of chocs, which she thought was delightful. It wasn't so delightful for the last four to arrive – Ian, Adam, Lorraine and Doug – as there were already 15 arses on seats so she told the latecomers to bugger off! Looking on the bright side, Doug did get an extended ride in Ian's Cortina, which he said was... exhilarating. After a properly good nosebag, everyone returned to the track to fill any remaining space with beer either in the bar or around the Boot Camp brazier.

Sunday began early with a mist as thick as a bricky's butties, but it soon burned off to leave a gorgeous, clear, sunny day. Qualifying got under way, Ian Walley posting an early 10.6 at 127mph, a reward for having thrashed to repair the damage done on last round's mighty, explosive launch, and for Adam, who chucked some cash into the pot to get Ian to the finals at all. Next up was Doug on 11.8 at 118mph, and just by qualifying he managed to sew up the 2015 championship. James followed on 12.5, then Pete Smith in the family late-model Shelby on 13.1. Steve Gilmour was next up, wringing 13.3 out of the Pinto-propelled Cortina, then Sandra-Lee in the Cummins-powered Land Rover, improving to a 13.8. Terry Morgan's rat Morris was top of the bottom half of the ladder with 13.9, just ahead of Lee's Punto at 14.1. Andy Errington was back with the black Mustang at 15.1, followed by Rick in the other black Mustang at 15.84, then championship runner-up Nigel in the Anglia at 15.86. Dave Smith in the big barge Lexus was bringing up the rear at 16.1. Blimey, for a Hot Rod series there's not one car there powered by a Chevy engine – what's going on? There was already some drama afoot, as a somewhat sideways launch from James was traced to a broken link on the four-link that looked like putting him out of competition for the day. Fortunately, some quick thinking assisted by a portable generator, an arc welder, a SEAT van with a tow-hitch and the expertise of Andy Leigh and Ian Walley got the thing fixed and ready for the first round.

The first round opened with Gilly cranking out a terrific 13.2 to out Lee's Punto, followed by Terry shutting down Sandra-Lee 13.3 to 13.7. James was gently testing out his freshly re-engineered rear end with a 13.6 over Rick's 15.8, then new champ Doug and the second placed chap Nigel met up, Nigel cherrying the race away against Doug's extremely sleepy 1.6-second reaction. Pete's Shelby beat Andy's SN95 13.5 to 15.2, then Ian beat Dave by the narrowest of six-second margins to complete the first round of eliminations.

Quarter finals started with a close match-up, Pete wringing a 13.0 at 111mph out of the blown Shelby, but it wasn't enough to catch James's 12.4 at 113mph. So that Aldi arc welder seems to have been up to the job, then. Doug's 11.6 at 119mph was plenty to cover Gilly's 13.5, while Terry went out to Ian 13.6 to 10.9.

The semis opened with what should have been a race as tight as a whale's clout, but there was some gamesmanship afoot – Doug had apparently run out of gas, while James had more gas than Joey 'Jaws' Chestnut*, meaning that the race should have gone James's way, but Doug was then seen fitting a bottle courtesy of Ian Walley Racing... When the lights ran down, Doug ran a 13.4, a no-gas time, while James took the win light with an on-gas 12.6. Like Doug gave a shite – he was already champion! Ian had a bye into the final, but, never one to waste an empty track, ripped off a 10.3 at 130mph.

So, the round finals and the final NSCC run of the year was set up, and it was two shonky old MkII Cortinas. James was well away when the lights ran down, but half a second later Ian gave one of his explosive launches and hunted him down. James managed a 12.4 at 112mph, but Ian's 10.3 at 130mph was more than a match and gave him the win.

It had been a tremendous day's racing, a really fitting end to yet another excellent season of NSCC. Doug had the championship sewn up, and had earned it well with a car that had been reliable and daily-drivable whilst still rattling off low elevens like a stroll in the park. Yes, we may have taken the piss about it being a bright orange ricer, leading to the superb nickname Uncle Ben, but he's certainly shown the more traditional HRG fare what it takes to win NSCC. A close runner-up was Nigel in the little four-pot Anglia, a proper little street rod that's been absolutely everywhere this season, and so close to the top of the table. It's been a good year with a handful of rain-outs and the odd disaster, but lots of superb racing, plenty of laughs, and an excellent turn-out of qualified NSCC cars. With plenty of winter garage reshuffles, projects and new cars ready for next season, 2016 looks like it could be another bumper year... Thanks to everyone concerned!

Eugene

NSCC Round 8... not 9

It's been almost two months since the last load of bumnuts on here. It's also been almost two months since the last round of NSCC. Coincidence?
It had certainly been a long, long wait since the last round of racing, but that only made the anticipation all the sweeter, and unless you arrived at York early on the Saturday evening prior to Sunday and bank holiday Monday's double header, you had to pit in Barnsley. Clearly everyone was taking the Sunday's racing very seriously, as they were all in bed by midnight ... or maybe they were just a great bunch of mincing fairies.
There were a couple of new faces among the usual suspects - Vix and Pete Smith turned up with their blown '07 Shelby Mustang and a small stately home on wheels, while Dave Mears appeared with his 403-powered red Trans Am and a shonky little tent like the rest of us. Some familiar faces brought new cars out for late-season debuts - Biff had a rather shiny (but not black) Trans Am powered by a 455 Olds, his old (black) SN95 Mustang now in the hands of ex-Viva pilot Rick Swaine, while the Hughes clan shared driving duties of the new 1600cc MR2-based Imp, Dec running in NSCC while Paul drove it in JDM brackets.

Sunday was a lovely day, warm but slightly overcast, but with the pits full of all classes, track time was in high demand. After two rounds of qualifying, Russ's Dutton dominated with a 9.75. Ian Walley, back with a new Dart block after the old one was found to have a nastier gash than Katie Price, was running it in gently with an 11.0, Doug "Uncle Ben" Hague third with 11.8, then James Murray with a 12.4. John Peace was the only one in the 13s with a 13.4, while Biff opened his account with a 14.0. Vix was just behind on 14.1, still using the traction control and no burnout to save the expensive Pirellis, with Sandra Lee in the Land Rover on 14.4. The diesel Landy now features a 4L80E transmission, but in true Land Rover tradition, Jamie has eschewed complex computer controls in favour of a series of rocker switches. Yes, a diesel Land Rover with push-button auto! That's brilliant. The lesser-spotted Lee Openshaw, not seen since May, was back, and feared no ridicule by bolting on a pair of pink front wheels. Why is uncertain, but the ones on the back weren't brown, sadly. He managed a 14.56, a whisker ahead of Steve Gilmour's 14.58, then Andy Errington, on the bottle and rounding out the top half of the ladder with a 14.6.

Shaun Cockroft was along with his handsome little Escort Harrier on 15.0, then Phil Winstanley's Moggy on 15.1, Andy Frear's mighty zombie apocalypse Bronco on 15.2 and Dave Mears with a 15.3, not a bad start for the car's first trip to the strip. Rick was getting the hang of his new steed with a 15.7, then Terry Morgan in the SBF Morris rat-rod on 16.2, and Dave Smith in the big barge Lexus at 16.33. The Hughes' little Imp was getting the hang of the job with a 16.34, Scott in the handsomely-facelifted Pop on 16.4, Nigel's Anglia on 16.9, then Mark Presland rounding out an impressive 22-car ladder with an 18.7. Twenty-two cars... the NSCC was the biggest non-RWYB class of the day!

Round one opened with John Peace taking it easy with a 14.1 against Dave's Lexus on 16.0, while the mid-table match-up of Andy Errington and Shaun Cockroft was decided on the line with a red light from the Escort. Russ ran a stout 10.9 against Mark's 18.9, while Mark's identical twin, Scott, was on the receiving end of a 12.0 from Uncle Ben. Ian Walley had turned up the wick a little, his 10.6 easily covering Nigel's 16.0, then a battle of the British Tin saw Phil's Moggy come unstuck at the hands of Gilly's giant-slayer Cortina, 13.8 to 14.2.

Biff had suffered overheating, puking and an embarrassing leakage in the pit lane during qualifying... Sorry, I should have said Biff's CAR suffered overheating, puking and an embarrassing leakage in the pit lane during qualifying, but was back to cover Terry's 15.6 with his 14.1, while James's almost shiny Cortina ran 13.7 to Dec's 15.9. Lee's pink bits clearly gave him an advantage, shutting Andy's Bronco down 14.5 to 15.6, then Vix rattled off a 14.2 to Rick's 15.7. The first round of eliminations was concluded with Sandra Lee blasting out a 14.1 - I believe a NPB for the diesel Landy - to Dave Mears' 15.3.

Round two followed ... eventually ... and opened with Biff stealing the win from Vix by less than two tenths of a second. Russ was up next on a bye, and usually a bye is an excuse to take it easy and not risk damaging the motor. Russ clearly couldn't give a bucket of steaming monkey dumps for that school of thought, using the solo run to bash out a 9.48 at 138mph.

Doug wasn't dithering, either, his 11.86 polishing off Gilly's 13.7, before John Peace ran 13.1 to Sandra-Lee's 14.4, a NPB for John and the blown Fox notch, though the euphoria would be short-lived.

The Angel of Death made a reappearance in this round. Andrew Errington's calm, sanguine, gentlemanly persona is merely a thin veneer hiding a sadistic scythe-waving maniac from a circle of hell that even Dante never got to find out about. Having caused his opponent to red-light in the first round, he again pushed the hidden button in the Mustang that causes the shit to hit someone ELSE's fan in his pairing against Ian Walley. While Ian was spooling up on the line, taching over 5000rpm on the transbrake, ready for one of his "Houston, we have lift-off" launches, Andrew was cruising off up the track on the way to a 14.99. At some point, he looked in his mirror and uttered the dread incantation, and as Ian released the transbrake button, his tyres gripped, he popped the welds holding his axle tubes into the diff carrier, the pinion went skywards, turned the propshaft into a question mark and bust the tail housing from the gearbox. The Dark Lord was satisfied, and the win light came on in Andrew's lane.

Yet another bitter disappointment for Ian, and another early bath for the Mad Professor and crew.

As you can see, the evil hadn't quite worn off and the car appears to have claimed another victim in the shape of Al Perkins, another soul for the Lord of Darkness.

The quarter finals began with James Murray getting fried by the rice, Doug's stunning 0.51 reaction and 11.9 covering James' 13.2. He claimed a nitrous solenoid failure and returned to the pits, opened the bonnet and pulled out a loose length of broken wire saying "I've found the problem!"

Russ was, prudently, taking it a little easier, his 11.0 still being enough for Biff's 14.5. Rounding out the quarters was another battle of the Mustangs, Andy's SN95 versus John's blown Fox. This time, John won fair and square, 13.4 to 14.9, but the dark prince of the underworld would have his revenge... upon returning to the pits, John's engine was rattling in a rather potentially-terminal fashion. This was a double blow for John as his quarter-final win would have given him a semi-final bye into the final, but rather than risk any part of his rotating assembly getting scared of the dark and doing a runner, he prudently hung up his keys.

The semi finals were a brief affair, with only Doug and Russ showing. Doug again left with a 0.51 reaction, and seemed to have the race in the bag right up until the last few hundred feet when it seemed Russ just nudged the nitrous switch and took the win 11.0 to 11.75. And so, after a big field and a tremendous day's racing, the final would be something of an anti-climax. However, Russ wouldn't let the day end with a whimper, and finished the day with a solo run of 9.45 at 138mph.

Some early-exits from the eliminations elected to make an equally early exit for the evening cruise in order to be back in time for the on-track Cackle for KC, while the rest of us went for a damn fine nosebag at the Barnes Wallis. Upon our return, beers were opened, the bar was opened and the Dixon-Granger family barbecue was in full swing for everyone except James, who had borrowed Gary Leece's van and Derek Beck's trailer off Biff (eh?) to take John and his Mustang home.
It was a real blow to poor John but, as it happened, he missed absolutely sweet FA. Late Sunday night, a few raindrops began falling. By 3am it was raining good and proper, and barely let up for most of Monday. The weather forecast predicted that the rain would be coming down all damn day until teatime, so for the sake of safety, Mr Murty called the day off, refunded everyone their money and let them make a nice early start to dry off at home.
I'm joking, of course. Almost everyone - including everyone on slicks - had packed up and gone way before noon, but there was no official rain-off call. In fact, at 1pm, said Murt got on the Tannoy announcing that "In case you haven't noticed, it's stopped raining and timed runs will begin at 2pm." This was news to all the remaining people, who were left wondering just what this wet stuff still falling out of the sky was if it wasn't rain. But, true to his word, he found half a dozen RWYBers daft enough to run in the pissing rain and sent them off up the track with sidelights and wipers on. It's amazing that the previous evening, dozens of racers had gathered on the track under a glorious sunset to remember one of their own who had died in a tragic racing accident, and here, the following day under leaden skies with a constant rain falling, the track owner was sending cars out to race. It was an insult.
Still, after the half-dozen dimwits (who were doing burnouts before running on a track with standing water on it - what's that all about?) had got tired of running laps, the day was finally called at around 3pm and the remaining hangers-on hit the road homeward.
It seems Uncle Ben has got the 2015 championship all sorted, but there's still a chance Nigel could steal it in the last furlong. With only a couple of cruises and the Hot Rod Drags left for last minute qualifying and points-grabbing before the finals, it's still all to play for in the National Street Car Challenge!

Tour De Farce & NSCC Round 7

Last weekend marked the V8 UK Power Tour. This is the second year for the Power Tour, but for one reason and another, this year's was a two-day, two-venue event – Saturday at Santa Pod; Sunday at York, which also happened to coincide with Round 7 of the NSCC.

I told James that plan A was to arrive in daylight on Friday evening; plan B was to arrive before the rain that was forecast to show up around midnight. It started well when I arrived at James's around 7.30pm to find him spray painting his car. At 10.30 we'd just finished refitting the windscreen, so that was plan A well and truly buggered. We set off for Santa Pod, driving along the A45 watching the lightning in the distance, and arriving shortly after midnight to find the gates locked. A security chap walked over, and we told him we were with the Power Tour. He asked a trick question, “OK, where are you going tomorrow?” This completely fooled me, as all I could think was that I was hoping to be at Santa Pod tomorrow but fortunately James was much quicker on the uptake than me, and gave the code that unlocked the gate - “York”. We headed down to the far end of the pits where the Power Tour crew were camped, opened a beer, and literally the second I'd hammered my last tent peg in, the heavens opened. We'd accomplished plan B with less than a minute to spare.

Jesus Christ almighty, the storm that followed was biblical. Howling winds, thunder, lightning flashing every four or five seconds, and torrential rain. I grabbed my beer and ran for the V8UK guys' gazebo which, given the weather, they had sensibly shut up fairly tight. It was about three metres by two metres, and I walked around it twice looking for the door before knocking (on canvas, yes, really) and pleading with them to let me in. In those 20-30 seconds, I was drenched from head to foot. It was at this point that everyone else thought “Bugger this, I'm going to bed” so I then had to run back again. The storm, which had then been joined by a plague of frogs and four blokes on horses, continued for another two hours before finally heading north.

This meant that it was fairly late when we got to sleep, and when I finally got up in the morning, not only was the track dry and open for business, but about four Power Tour cars had already broken! John Sleath and Moose had arrived, and John had already broken too. Steve Neimantas had brought the Charger out on the Power Tour, done his runs and headed off already, but it turned out he'd broken down on the way back.

There was some interesting stuff about, like this Escort picking its wheels up.

The Taz Racing 126s are always good value for money, too.

Deb Laugher was out testing her Super Pro ET Corvette, which looked gorgeous, but was showing an alarming tendency to turn right at about 60ft

This thing puzzled me no end - a wheelie bar on a French FWD Civic? Then I realised it's tied into the roll cage, and is set very low to prevent the front end getting light and unloading when the power comes in.

I queued up to get a run in, and the queues were already Mopar Euronats long. First run into a fair headwind with a very gluey track was a 16.6, with the transmission in D. There's a switch next to the shifter that alters the shift points and such, so I switched it from Normal to Power, queued up for another hour or so, and ran a 16.8. Hmm. One look at the queue told me I wasn't going to bother waiting for another run, and, try as I might, I can't get a feel for Hondas and such, so I began decamping. James had made a balls-up of his first two runs, so queued up for a third, ran a 12, decided that was as good as it was going to get and packed up himself. Most of the other Power Tourers had already buggered off, apart from a few other stragglers, so I flung everything in the boot, poured the rainwater out of my tent and threw that in on top, and we set off.

We had to stop at Tesco on the way, but as our combined shopping list was sticking plasters, milk, a bag of ice and some clean pants, we decided we'd each get our own to prevent Wellingborough thinking we were a couple with some 50 Shades thing going on. The cruise up the M1 was uneventful, though as about half of it is limited to 50mph we were more in danger of nodding off than anything else. The only highlight came on the slip road onto the M18 where the driver of a white van on the hard shoulder was frantically flagging down passing traffic. We stopped to help, but it turned out that he was Hungarian, spoke no English, and thought he was lost although (using my “speaking English slowly and loudly to foreigners” technique) it turned out he actually wasn't and was on the right road. Tit.

We stopped at the Chinese takeaway in Howden on the way, and my accomplishment of the weekend was being able to eat a whole Yung Chow Fried Rice, with a fork, whilst keeping up with James on the 12 miles of B-road from Howden to York Raceway. I didn't even spill any! Tent up, beer out, job's good. That's when we found out that York had decided to run a round of NSCC that day, so we had to go round telling all those who'd taken part that they hadn't earned any points from it.

The evening passed rather rapidly. It was one of those cases where you're standing around talking and suddenly realise that almost everyone else has gone to bed, so I did likewise. Sunday was a rather cool, overcast and breezy day, but it did make for some good racing. After two qualifying sessions, Ian Walley was out on top with a 10.28 at 129mph after some stellar tyre-changing services from Jamie Hughes the previous evening. Russ was next on 10.93, follower by Power Tourer Doug Hague in the Skyline on 11.71. He was followed by James murray getting back towards form with a 12.5, and John Peace not even close to the potential of that Mustang on 14.0. Both of those guys were also Power Tourers. Sandra-Lee Hughes was next with 14.3 from the diesel Land Rover, then Steve Gilmour on 14.55 and a NPB from Andy Errington, 14.83 from the Mustang. Andy Frear with another diesel topped the lower half of the ladder with 15.2, then Terry Morgan's Morris on 15.9, then me on 16.0, having suddenly lost 0.6 of a second from the previous day. Nigel Henderson's Anglia was next on 16.1, then Scott Presland in the fresh-back-out Pop on 16.9. Final Power-Tourer Ryan Chatburn was on 17.2, slightly ahead of Mark Butterworth in the Porsche 944 on 17.5, with Rick Swaine at the wheel of Mark's 100E on 19.4 at the bottom of the ladder.

Round one began with the top and tailers, Ian and Rick, Ian taking the win by a handy nine seconds. The two Andys were next, Andy E's Mustang getting a mighty drop on Andy F's Bronco at the lights and taking the win 14.8 to 15.3, then James ran a no-gas 13.6 to finish Scott's day. John pulled a 13.8 at 106mph out of the hat against Nigel, before Russ showed the Dunkirk spirit, his home-brewed British kit car defeating Mark's mighty German meister-machine 10.9 to 17.9. Steve's 14.4 was enough to head off Terry's rod, and Doug's Jap machine Pearl Harboured Ryan's pseudo-Yank Probe. After the aforementioned stellar tyre changing technique the previous evening, it was slightly ironic that the Hughes dynasty's Land Rover was a no-show with a puncture, leaving me to solo through to the quarter finals.

Round two began with Ian Walley ripping off another 10.5 like it ain't no thang against Andy's 15.1, then James turned the wick back up with a 12.5 against John's NPB 13.6. Russ hammered home his advantage with an 11.0 against Steve's 14.5, then my brief good fortune wilted embarrassingly in the face of Doug's 11.9 to set up the semis.

In the semis, James turned the wick up again to record a sharp light and a 12.4 at 111mph, but Ian was conserving gas with a gentle 11.2 to take the win. Then, once again, the Allied forces of British kit car and American engine conquered the inscrutable cunning of the far East, Russ's 11.1 seeing off Doug's 12.4. This should have been Victory for Dutton Day, but who wants to see a flag saying “Happy VD Day!”?

Talking of victory for Dutton, there was a real upset about to happen in the final. Russ had already been told that he couldn't take part in the annual Street Racer Championship because his car couldn't be street legal, on account of the rear tyres sticking an inch or two out of the arches. Hmmm. This is in spite of the fact that the car used on the flyers and adverts for the Street Racer Championship was... Russ's Dutton, complete with sticky-out tyres.When we were told this, we all wrinkled out noses at the sudden stench of bullshit, but it wasn't over for Russ. He and Ian staged for the final and Russ got a blinding launch, charging up the track to a 9.972 at 137mph against Ian's slowing 10.7 to take the win. However, the second the scores flashed up on the scoreboard, the voice of the Metatron* came over the radios saying that this run doesn't count, and Russ is hereby disqualified from this round of racing. Ooo-er. Apparently, Russ had already been told that his car doesn't have enough cage to run under 9.99, but he's been careful enough to sandbag it for the past year or so. Today, he slipped up, and The Metatron was waiting to spring the trap. This added something of an EastEnders-style drama-laden cliffhanger ending to the NSCC, but the drama was far from over.

Ian Walley had also been contesting the Street Racer championship, and made it to the final alongside Power Tourer Owen Forrest, all the way up from Kent in a big-block Ford-powered Fox Mustang notch (ex-Nick Gunby). The last race of the day, they lined up, blasted off and ran side-by-side tens, with Ian's turbo power just managing to overcome the massive cubes of Owen's Mustang. As they returned down the track to claim their prizes, the fact that two Fords, each also powered by Ford engines, had made it to the final of Street Racer had caused a massive rip in the fabric of space/time. The Metatron was standing atop the shithouse portacabin, brandishing his mop like Gandalf's staff in an attempt to keep the beasts of the netherworld in their own dimension, while, with lightning flashing to the south, the prizegiving was a somewhat hurried affair. “Here's your trophy, here's your money, now smile at the camera, good, now RUN!” I just about made it to my tent before the rain hit, with hail, gales, cosmic anomalies in the nature of reality and all-sorts hit. Once again, the tent was thrown into the boot but, within 20 seconds, I was piss-wet-through. Again.

Hey-ho, it was a fitting ending to a really good weekend. Some excellent racing, a lot of fun, and Owen picked up the All-Motor trophy for the Power Tour so it was far from a wasted journey. A chap called Martyn with a high-tech Nissan GTR picked up the Power-Adder trophy with a combined average of 9.96... bloody hell, that Yellow Peril is never far away. A top weekend.

Eugene

* - The highest of the angels, the celestial scribe and chancellor of heaven. Or Steve Murty, as we know him.

Flaming June

June's been a busy month for most of us, it seems. It started badly for me when, right at the beginning, James and I made a trip down to the Smoke, gaw blimey, apples, pears etc. It lived up to expectations, in as much as James and I felt like foreigners and a pint cost in excess of £4 though, to be fair, it wasn't a bad pint. We'd gone to be in the studio audience for QI, but despite being early (I know! Me! James! Early!) we failed to make the cut along with 100 or so other people in the queue behind us. Still, it wasn't a wasted train trip. I'd been looking out for an old Lexus with the 4.0 1-UZ V8 to use as a donor car, and I'd found one out near Harrow. It was cheap, and I wasn't expecting much, but we went to take a look.

Long story short, I bought it for a song and drove it home. I told the missus on the way back that I'd bought the Lexus I mentioned, and she replied "There was never any doubt in my mind that you would." Bah, she's rumbled me.
The subsequent Saturday, I gave it a wash and brush up, and it came up pretty nice.

I drove it down to Brands Hatch on the Sunday, and it proved to be a silent, comfortable and capable car that averaged 28mpg. Bugger breaking it for its engine; it's the new daily driver.
The following weekend, everyone else was at Hot Rods & Hills but I'd jizzed all my money on a shonky Lexus so I wasn't going. The following Thursday, though, I'd managed to blag a ride for a few days. I drove down to Luton, parked the Lexus up, and drove out in this...

It's a Vauxhall VXR8, basically a Holden Commodore HSV with the supercharged LSA motor and six-speed manual. You know it's going to be good when the massive tank is brimmed full and the computer reckons you can expect 200 miles from it. I'm guessing that everyone who has taken it out before me has ragged it like a cheap whore when the fleet's in, leading to low expectations of fuel economy from the on-board computer.

While I was there I did get to have a quick gander around Vauxhall's Heritage Centre, and boy do they have some cool stuff in there. All nicely restored, from pre-war stuff to the last Monaro, a Lotus Carlton, a Bedford CA and CF, and something I could really go for, a droop-snoot Firenza. Yum.

Still, the road was calling, and I took the 570-odd bhp VXR8 out of the gates, onto the M1... and straight into rush-hour traffic. For two hours. And that clutch is heavy. As soon as I came off the motorway, I had a BMW pull up next to me at the lights giving it big licks. Right, I thought, I'll show him. Green went the lights, down went the boot, and paaaaarp went my arse. The thing took off so hard it snapped my neck back, then forwards again when it hit the rev limiter. I grabbed second and repeated the process, all the while shrieking like the prettiest boy in the cell block. I'd covered half a mile, using both lanes of the carriageway, ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers and left the BMW sitting there as if someone had stolen his throttle pedal. Which is just as well, otherwise he'd have seen me being thrown around inside the car like a big lass's tit on a bouncy castle and laughed himself into a lamppost.
That weekend saw us all at Shakey County for the Nostalgia Nats. What a terrific weekend. There was a real buzz about the place, some real enthusiasm floating around. And talking of floating around, here's a picture of two reprobates mugging a child for his bicycle.

And here's one of them riding it around the pits and trying to pull wheelies before falling flat on his mudflaps.

Honestly, you'd think driving a seven-second street car would be enough of a thrill, but no, riding a bicycle designed for someone roughly the size and weight of one of his morning bowel movements was more exciting. The Saturday was a bit of a dead loss due to rain showers, but Sunday was a great day with plenty of NPBs for NSCCers including Andy's 7.77 at 178mph, Keith Freeman well inside the 10s, and Sandra Lee taking the coal-chucking Land Rover down to a 14.4. Good fun all round.
Andy even managed to continue his efforts at infanticide by proxy. Not content with setting fire to the poor little bugger at York, this time, when the nitrous bottle he was heating up in a bucket of boiling water blew its burst disc, the same child was standing next to it. He laughed about it. Well, we all did - we'd just inhaled 10lbs of nitrous oxide. So either Andy's a psychopath or the kid's a jinx. And that's another perfectly good pair of my trousers ruined. I'd only just chipped the solids off them after the VXR8 incident. Mind you, if a 1200psi blast of nitrous and boiling water didn't shift the stains, nothing would.
And I even got a chocolate race car for father's day!

Yes, it's likely to be more structurally sound than most of my race cars, though it won't pass scrutineering now as ... well, I've eaten it. So, by tomorrow, it'll be an EXACT replica of most of my race cars...

Eugene

Sunny For Sale!

For Sale: 1987 Nissan Sunny 1.3LX. MoT until end of September, < 66k miles. Body & interior in really good shape, polishes up beautifully (yes, I've actually polished it!). Everything seems to work, and I'm averaging 43-46mpg. Problems: sills will need doing for MoT, and there's a rust hole about 1" across in boot floor. Radio wiring and dash around it has been butchered. And on a long journey, it can overheat after 50 miles or so. I drove down to London last week, 300+ miles round trip, overheated twice on the way there, not at all on the way back. It'd make a nice little retro for someone, cheap to insure for younger driver. Let's start at £325... you know how to get hold of me.

A Nice Drive and a Weekend Picnic

Last weekend, we flipped a coin and decided to skip NSCC rounds five and six at York, and instead take in Yanks Weekend and the NASC Gary's Picnic at Shakey. There were a good handful of NSCCers doing likewise, including Andy Faster and the Twister team going great guns in Supercharged Outlaw and rattling off several 8.0 and 8.1 times. He even put his name in the hat for the Gary's Street Shootout and won a trophy and a wad of cash from Gary Healey, which will go towards yet another gearbox rebuild... Still, maybe that was payback for donning a policeman's helmet and setting up a speed trap in the pits using a timing strobe, or aiding flaming burnouts on a Fifties moped that had 'CHiPs' written down one side... and 'Egg' down the other.
Another merry band that were along was the Hughes clan with the newly en-dieseled Land Rover. All was going great, with Sandra Lee hammering it down into the 14s, until it blew a load of oil out of the breather and the marshalls got the hump. Full marks to Sandra Lee for operating that big diesel clutch despite having a dozen stitches in her thigh a day or two previously...

Vicky and Pete Smith were also along in their new toy, a 2007 Shelby Mustang GT500, but they weren't out on track, preferring to wait for a set of drag radials rather than scrub the frighteningly expensive Pirelli PZero road tyres that are on it...
Meanwhile, in another Mustang, Andrew Errington was out trying to get his 5.0 SN95 down into the 14s. After a whole load of bolt-on mods, this car has steadfastly refused to budge from the mid-15s. Fortunately, he'd brought the Bootlegger team for moral support. For instance, they told me that they'd taken the belt off to fit a smog-pump bypass, and when they came to refit it, nobody could work out which way around the pulleys it was supposed to go. There were four of them leaning into the engine bay for over half an hour, and nobody could figure it out. Eventually, they said, "Sod it, let's have a beer," stood up and realised that they'd been leaning on the diagram on the fan shroud that tells you which way around it goes.

This is the same brain trust that spent ages helping Andrew find his flip-flop. One evening, he found he only had one half of his pair of flip-flops: a flip, if you will, or possibly just a flop. After having spent ages turning the car and truck upside-down looking for the damn flop, they said, "Sod it, let's have a beer," opened the cool box and there, in the cooler with the beer, was the missing flop. I think we can all learn something from this, not least of which is that the goddess of beer will always provide the answer if you make an offering in her honour. And Andy did finally crack the 14s, and even got to the semis of the Bracket Gamblers.

The previous Thursday, I went to the SMMT Press Day at Millbrook Proving Grounds. This is where a bunch of manufacturers bring along their latest models and a load of journos turn up, pick some, take them out for 20 minutes or so then run off to the buffet. I'd been to test all the American cars that were there, so after a quick off-road trundle in a Jeep Cherokee I tried the new all-electric dual-motor Tesla. Man, I want to take that up the strip. The acceleration is truly frightening - 0-60 is something like 3.1 seconds - and because the torque curve isn't a curve (it's as flat as a fart from beginning to end) and all the torque is available from 1rpm, it's just relentless.

I also drove a Caterham. I tried one, but fell at the first hurdle when I couldn't slide my lardy arse into the wrap-around Kevlar bucket and I could press all three pedals at once with one steel-toed boot. After someone found some WD40 to help me out again, they showed me the wide-body model (not too sure what to make of that) which was great fun. It's just a motorbike that you can't fall off, but even for 15 minutes I found the gearing tiring. As you can see, 100mph was a screaming 6,000rpm.

I then drove a Maserati Quattroporte diesel - a 2.8 V6 unit made by VM, which is owned by Fiat ... as is Maserati. It was a very pleasant sports saloon, but I don't know why you'd cough up Maserati prices when Jaguar, Audi or BMW can do it just as well. Then I tried the Bentley Continental GT V8 S convertible, as it was such a sunny day. Now this, I could get used to. The first thing I did was set the driver's seat to 'massage' setting, then found Planet Rock on the monster DAB stereo set-up, then planted my boot into the shag pile and nearly befouled the beautiful leather. It rumbles around in silence, but when you hoof it it has exhaust cut-outs and bawls like a muscle car! I took it on the hill/handling course and chucked it around like a right featherweight. It was amazing, and when my six numbers come up this will definitely be in the top five.

Next was a Lexus RCF, a very Skyline-like two-door coupe with 475bhp and all the toys. This was also frighteningly fast, but with all the computer-aided crap on it I never really felt like I was driving it - it always felt like it was taking over. And I couldn't get Planet Rock on the DAB. Yes, an amazingly capable ultra-modern GT, but not for me.

I did, however, use the Lexus to put something to the test. Millbrook has a two-mile, four-lane bowl, progressively banked. Apparently, in lane four, the most banked part of the track, you can let go of the wheel at 100mph and the car will just follow the course. So I did. And it did! There are stories of a couple of journos with a new 5-series Beemer who got in lane four, set the cruise control, reclined the seats, got in the back and videoed the journey...

A few other manufacturers had brought along classics from their heritage collections. Vauxhall brought the very first Viva, looking a lot less anonymous than the new one, certainly.

Suzuki brought a restored Whizz-kid, and I had a go in that. It was a tight squeeze, but it's like driving a shoe. I soon found that it had bugger-all in the way of brakes, with the pedal disappearing to the floor and then locking up.

Newspress, a trade PR outlet, had a theme of 'Your First Car', and had brought a Nova, a Micra, a MkII Fiesta and this, a rather scabby 1100cc Allegro. It was as-found, complete with wheelarch and sill rust, mis-matched touch-up paints, butchered wiring and saggy brown velour seats.

I desperately wanted to drive it and find it to be a cute and endearing drive, friendly, like an old Mini. Sadly, it lived up to its reputation, was uncomfortable and noisy with a whining sump-ful of gears and heavy steering.

It was also rather unreliable, requiring many rescues and repairs through the day.

Jaguar had brought the last XJ12C coupe off the production line, and I managed to have a drive in that. Dave, a gent from Jaguar Heritage, had to accompany me to make sure I wasn't drifting it or doing rolling burnouts or anything clever like that. This was mitigated considerably by Dave telling me about the '70 Chevelle he'd just bought... and subsequently brought along to Gary's Picnic!

Favourite car of the day? This 1972 Toyota Crown coupe... a very American-styled pillarless coupe with a big, lazy 2.6-litre straight six and soft, boulevard handling. It was owned by a member of the owner's club, and he was a top bloke - he also owned an early Celica and a couple of other models - and the car was perfect. Pneumatic central locking, loads of switches, manual front windows but electric rear windows, even a period in-car phone. I loved it just as it was, but I can think of no better home for a nice LS6...

Eugene