Classic car mechanic – You gotta Rolls with it… (you gotta take ya time)

‘In the corner of the workshop, Olli Ragbin sits watching events unfold before him’

Do you know the roads down which your life will drive?

Back in the mid-70’s our small family used to go to deepest darkest South Wales on a road trip to see the Grandparents. I remember it fondly. All piled into the back of my Dad’s Morris Marina 1.3L. The L didn’t stand for ‘litre’ as you may immediately conclude, but rather it meant ‘base spec’ in the motoring language at the time. I think Ford shared a similar view, with Fiestas coming in as either L, popular, popular plus or the riotously extravagant Ghia, complete with crushed velour and a superiority complex you could deploy on the neighbours with just a twirl of a key fob. (You had to be careful about twirling key fobs mind. Too many mixed messages in the 70’s).

The 1.3 L Marina was dark blue and had a plastic tan faux-leather interior. It was automatic which meant it was even slower than the already achingly slow manual. Years later at the age of 18 my first ever car happened to be a Marina. Mine though was the 1.8. It was hand painted orange (brushstrokes still visible) and was a truly shocking car in almost every sense. 6 months later it had to be scrapped and I actually got 50% of the cost back when it was delivered to the breakers. I lost £65 on that car. The slowest depreciating vehicle I’ve ever owned. 6 months of utter humiliation for £65 plus petrol….? You’d pay a lot more for that sort of outcome in most walks of life.

Anyway, my Grandad was a car fan. He had a pristine white Mk I Escort in the garage which I think he loved more than my Nan. The car certainly never made him Kellogs Special K for breaksfast every morning with milk warmed in a pan specially made for the job. The car also didn’t have to listen to his occasional rants and it certainly never got him his daily paper whilst leaving his slippers out for him. Nan 1 Escort 0

It sounds a bit one-sided, but it wasn’t really. My Nan was the boss of the house and could easily curdle milk with a tone which would often scold grown men into quivering infants if something irked her.

Still, they were both very caring to my brother and I. My Grandad had a book about cars. ‘The Observer’s book of automobiles’ and it was this book that would stick in my mind for years to come. I used to read it obsessively and in so doing, had a favourite. The Rolls Royce Silver Shadow II. I don’t know why it struck such a chord. Perhaps it was the power figure quoted merely as ‘adequate’ or maybe it was the sheer size of the thing compared to everything else on the road. Or perhaps it was the RRP. Outrageously expensive and completely other-worldly.

A year or two back before the new ‘Classic Car Mechanic’ unit was acquired by the boys and girls at CCM, Eric had an old Silver Shadow in for restoration. The local owner had always wanted one it seems and had snagged a fixer-upper on eBay for a very modest sum.

It was in poor repair and needed much effort (particularly the engine) to get it anywhere near roadworthy, let alone right. Brakes and suspension are notoriously complex on these cars and they will spill mineral oil on anything at anytime with zero notice and maximum pleasure.

This one was white. It was rusty. It was worn and battered. It was a complete bin. It was simply fabulous.

There was something magical about opening the heavy door on a Roller and sliding into the leather armchair, surrounded by beautiful wood veneers with simple yet functional Smiths dials facing you.

I’ve never wanted one more.

The inner urge to commit to restoring one was strong. No, I’d never get one from eBay. No, I wouldn’t get the cheapest, I’d get the most expensive and sorted one I could find (or more accurately, afford). And no, I probably wouldn’t get one in white. But….I could absolutely understand each and every move this customer made.

The chance to own a hand-built car, that at one time was considered (by the Observer’s book of cars at any rate) to be the best in the world… think about it…. what car today is the equivalent? Probably still a Roller. Today you’d likely be staring down the barrel of half a million quid for the privilege. Imagine owning the 70’s equivalent? Restored and wonderful. DNA from old to new still recognisable. Which would turn more heads?

The downside of course is that I’d look a complete pillock driving one. My kids would disown me (they simply cannot understand why I wouldn’t rather the new Audi RS3). Nearly every modern car would be measurably better in almost every way. But still, that misses the point.

To own, restore and enjoy a classic. This is more than motoring. It’s preserving history.

Another week, another car show. Today Shrimp eye Justin snaps a man who is hastily trying to walk away from the atmosphere he accidentally created when he coughed. Everyone pretended not to notice, bless

I may look foolish in a Roller (particularly whilst wearing my characteristic Liverpudlian sports wear), but I'd venture this is a step too far. I've a feeling S-E Justin considered this as an ownership prospect for precisely several seconds too long

Sam asked a question this week..... 'Bumper off........?'....

'Or bumper on....?'....

Shrimp Eye responded to the former by means of photo...

Finally, the Gaffer has been in Cypress this week and has been taking photos of what look like military maneuverers with tanks. You need to be careful doing that. You'll get chucked in the slammer for that sort of thing in many parts of the world... Which is almost exactly what happened next. How to ruin a perfectly good break with your betrothed, bother the military police into action. Apparently Ingrid intervened and said the magic words, 'he's with me', just before Eric could buy something she'd regret

Will Eric make it back into the country without trying to squeeze a high-calibre turret mounted gun into the overhead lockers on the 11.30 EasyJet to Gatwick? Will Shrimp eye Justin get to another car show and find even more ridiculous minis to lust after? Will my children forgive me if I buy a rusty Rolls Royce and move into my living room? This week's questions need to be answered.

Until next time, from all the gang at CCM, go steady out there.

Olli