… had not been easy these past few months. Just before Christmas, disaster struck. I was in Chumley’s debt for a couple of little jobs that he squeezed in for me and for which he was in return looking forward to the usual bag of Norfolk sausages. I would add to that a modest stack of steak burgers and a dozen slices of finest streaky to demonstrate both my appreciation of his accommodations and convey my good wishes for the festive season. But the Norfolk butcher had gone. Closed down. Fortunately I had a small reserve in my freezer so honour was preserved but this development was a serious blow not only for my future dealings with Chumley but at the time, practically the whole of my Christmas list.
The wiring of the edges of the Austin front wings has been more difficult than I at first imagined. I did have a bit of trouble with getting the metal to go where I wanted it to go and it was like trying to adjust side valve tappets; an extra pair of hands would have been useful.
I persevered, finished one wing and offered it up in the hope that it would inspire me to get on with the other side a bit more quickly (and do a neater job into the bargain). It’s no wonder that it was difficult to get the wire to lay nicely because the wire is actually tube and not aluminium as I first thought from its exterior finish but steel with a layer of copper and then aluminium coated on the outside. I discovered this when I was cutting it with the disc cutter – sparks gave the game away. The tube came from Blue Swallow Aircraft and I would guess that it’s an aircraft spec. product though I can’t think what it might be used for.
But it’s been worth the effort so far. The car has never looked right since I took the front guards off – the wheels kept hitting the metal and once jammed everything up when I went up onto the verge to let another car past.
I’ll try to sort the other side out this week and then get on with the brackets.
I thunked up a new theory about the rough running of the Hillman which for the time being avoids cutting holes in the bonnet. I wondered if the gascolator was neutralising or dropping the pressure from the fuel pump sufficiently low enough to cause fuel starvation at low revs with the engine hot. I haven’t properly thought it through and I’m probably clutching at straws but, just in case there’s something in it (even if I don’t know what it is) I’ve rummaged through the box of bits and found a pipe joining twink with the right threads at each end so I can by-pass the gascolator ready for the next breakfast run.
Which reminds me – I didn’t finish the story. The butcher in Long Stratton is from last week, open again; same excellent meats, same charming people, though they now own the enterprise and work for themselves.
Trebles and sausages all round then!