By Mike Peake
When I left you last, I was on the way to Chieveley Services on the M4 for the relay that would get Poppy and me the rest of the way home after our thoroughly enjoyable group meet at the Boston Bubble Car Museum and my failed petrol pump at Northampton.
It turned out that this relay was a huge HGV flatbed lorry and after 20 minutes or so to swap Poppy over, I was feeling all the excitement of a little boy as I climbed up into the cab. I’ve never been in an HGV before, so I really quite enjoyed the 40 minute trip home.
If I’d hoped to arrive anonymously and quietly I would have been sorely disappointed. Breakdown men seem to go out of the way to announce to the world that your pride and joy had suffered the indignity of needing rescue and casting your mechanical skills at the feet of your neighbours for ridicule. (I know! "What mechanical skills?" I hear you sniggering!)
So it was that at 10.30 pm on Sunday evening, I finally arrived home with an ear splitting hiss of air brakes and eye searing yellow flashing lights penetrating the neighbours curtains and letting them know there was something exciting happening in the street. Curtains were set a twitching far and wide and our shame was on full view. Mrs FB and eldest daughter also appeared to take photos and laugh at a tired and forlorn Fatbloke.
Blocking the entire road and causing even more embarrassment as a small traffic jam built up, Relay Man unloaded Poppy into the middle of the street. Mrs FB took the wheel and Relay Man studiously had her trying the brakes and steering, telling her that she needed to get an idea for the extra heavy feeling of driving a car without the servo and power steering working.
I could see that even Mrs FB’s lips were twitching in an effort not to laugh out loud at this display of “expertise” from our man. However, I couldn’t help but burst his bubble and took great joy telling him that Poppy wasn’t fitted with these luxuries anyway.
Don’t get me wrong, both chaps were jolly nice and a great help. Overall, I was very impressed with the service provided. At least these guys turned up - unlike the RAC when I called them after Bressingham! (Shameless Plug…See my blog “Poppy goes to Norfolk” for details! …end Shameless Plug)
I was exhausted after our weekend adventure and with Poppy safely on the drive, I was able to enjoy a soothing pint of Merlot before retiring to bed.
Fortunately I had booked the Monday off work as I had a feeling I’d need it (I’m getting too old for this!) and I had all day to diagnose and sort Poppy out. So, after a small lie in I was up and out of bed. I soon began preparing for the task ahead by staying in my PJ’s and watching old war films and John Wayne westerns. Yes OK - I had a duvet day! I did spend some time tracking down an original AC Delco fuel pump and rebuild kit though, so I wasn’t completely non-productive. I also had to face the wrath of Mrs FB as she can’t bear the thought of me doing “nothing”. (It's pure jealousy, I tell you! - Ed)
A brief drive into the deepest darkest wilds of North Wiltshire was required to collect my original AC Delco petrol pump and have a pleasant chat to the “Head Herald Honcho” that is our very own William Mark Davies of this group. Bill is an exceptionally nice Welshman who knows absolutely EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING about Heralds.
Every Herald owner should have Bill as a FaceBook buddy because he will be able to sort out every problem you may have and has a large stock of hard to find parts that he is happy to supply at very reasonable prices. Not only that but he’s a jolly good egg! Thanks Bill.
I set about rebuilding the pump while Mrs FB was at work - definitely not on the coffee table in the lounge. I meant to take photos during the rebuild but got a bit engrossed and forgot.
Friday afternoon found me back on my drive with socket set in hand. Fuel pumps were swapped and Poppy was running again. All without any blogworthy incidents or dramas. No, really! It all went amazingly smoothly. I was as surprised as you are.
My MOT was due and I’d booked it in for the following Saturday so guess what? My horn stopped working….. again! I’d already replaced the old horn with the proper twin high note / low note arrangement and replaced the slip ring on the steering column and replaced the pencil brush with the proper Moto Lita brush and had it all working lovely (eventually). So I was pretty miffed to now have a completely non-functioning horn. Not even intermittent. Just nothing. There was no way my MOT chap would let me off this after all the trouble It had caused him over the years (He never used to be able to get it to work and I’d turn up, place the steering wheel just so and sound the horn to get a pass and embarrass him. Naughty I know.)
So it was time to get out the multimeter again and pretend to know what I was doing with it. I suspected it was the horn push on the wheel as this is the only thing I haven’t changed in the last year or so, but when I wired the meter up and pressed the horn button the meter went down to zero ohms. I started following it back through the circuit to try and find the problem and it wasn’t until I’d got right back to the lead horn that I found it.
My less than one year old high note horn was dead! I am getting really fed up with the quality of brand new parts now, but quickly had the bad one out and wired in the low note on its own. It was now working with every single push of the button as I’m sure my neighbours will be pleased to verify.
Poppy was then treated to 2 brand new rear tyres as the old ones had been on for almost 12 years now so they were really overdue for change. Front ones will be done next pay day, but she was as ready as she could be for her judgement day date.
I’ll let you know how it went.
to be continued...
By Mike Peake
Our group’s main show this year was at the Boston Bubble Car Museum and as the weekend approached my excitement was growing. Friday afternoon, being POETS day at work (Push Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday) found me applying more liquid wax to Poppy, baking more of my award winning lemon drizzle cake and trying to find all my camping gear that had been slung into the shed after Bressingham at the end of the 2016 show season. I had about an hour of panic when I couldn’t find my tent poles, but they turned up eventually hiding behind an old lawnmower under the bench.
In my panic I did succumb to the 21st century malady of “posting in social media” instead of actually looking for them but this cry of desperation showed the camaraderie and generosity common in our group when John Ticehurst quickly offered me the use of his spare tent. Many thanks John.
I’m quite an old hand at packing Poppy for camping trips now and even managed to squeeze in a fan heater and electric hook-up cable that I’d modified with a 13 amp 3 pin socket fitted in place of the caravan plug. I’d learnt my lesson after Cr-eye-ch (Did I say that right Phil?) and Bressingham and was determined to be toasty warm this time.
7am Saturday morning had me loading the bedding, cake, merlot and food supplies into Poppy and the 2 of us were ready to start our adventure. Poppy purred into life quite quickly much to the relief of the neighbours (although not as quickly as she used to with the old pump) and we were off.
It was a great drive taking in stops for adding clothing and a break for coffee and fuel at Leicester where I ended up having to explain what Poppy was to a mini bus full of Romanians. “Multumesc, Cu placera” indeed. 5 hours later, Poppy and I arrived at the Bubble car museum campsite with me looking like the Michelin man in a Biggles hat and Poppy looking a little dusty and flyblown. (No. There is not a photo!)
The last available electric hook up meant I was as far away as possible from the rest of the happy campers leaving me looking like I was Billy No Mates in the naughty corner, but I soon had my gentleman’s abode assembled and a brew ready for John Ticehurst when he arrived and had finished setting up.
The rest of the happy campers arrived after their mass trespassing event. Old friendships were rekindled and new friendships were made while we all sang “Kum Ba Yah” round the campfire until Lord and Lady Simpson of Bubble arrived with provisions and the party began.
Gus Brooks fired up the BBQ and soon had the EU meat mountain cooked to perfection - regaining his title of chief camp cook (I dont think Gus is at all camp! - Ed). Lord John’s Lincoln sausages made converts of us all and Lady Sandra’s cheesecakes were so tasty that fights actually broke out over the last pieces. (I won’t mention names Ian and Bernard. You know who you are.) Needless to say we all had a great night and can’t wait for the next camping trip.
Many thanks to my fellow campers, the Chuckle Brothers, The Fat Controller, Steptoe and Son, Long John, Time Lax Allin, Mr and Mrs Snowy and of course special guests Lord and Lady Simpson of Bubble for such a great night.
After an uncomfortable night due to an airbed malfunction, I arose the following morning feeling somewhat the worse for wear. I was greeted by a similarly lacklustre crowd of campers, except for Gar who was disgustingly, and quite unnecessarily, cheerful. We all felt a moment of guilt for having left Gar to clear up his pitch after the party but in our defence, he was the only sober person there.
Gus came to our rescue and cooked the whole fatted pigs worth of bacon and a couple of gallons of coffee each, soon had us back on our feet and ready to set up for the day. At which point, I found myself giving Poppy a bit of a wipe down before the show started. I’ve never done this before. What am I turning into?
We knew Lord John was going to arrive slightly late as such a popular and knowledgeable chap is in high demand and his presence was required at an MG breakfast meet. (I overheard some say that he had muffed it and booked two shows on the same day but I can’t believe our Gandalf would be so foolish.)
At 9.30 members started arriving and arriving and arriving. 52 vehicles in total and it turned into a great show. The usual large variety of vehicles, camaraderie, and complete lack of snobbery was ever present and it was fantastic to see so many of you there and to chat about all sorts with you.
Poppy basked in the glory of people ooh-ing and aah-ing over her shininess. Lord John was heard to say that it was hard to believe it was the same car that was at the NEC. The Brooks were taking all the credit and claiming it as their idea and even our very own polishing and detailing maestro, BL Dan said I had done a good job. Praise indeed from respected members of the group which made all the hours of hard work worth it.
There were many highlights of the show for me but the main ones were a stunning wedgwood blue Triumph Herald with matching numbers and a huge history file. I spent a very pleasant hour or so with the charming owner Bridget Stott and her husband Howard with his equally nice Ford Pop. We chatted about all things Herald, comparing hubcaps and fuel pumps. They were even daft enough to ask me for advice on a couple of things which was quite an unusual experience for me. Before you say it, yes Howard has read my blogs and still listened to my advice. He may have just been being polite though.
We were treated to our first commercial vehicle attending one of our events too. A very nice looking Austin FD Truck with a chequered gypsy past, and they want her back! Owner Richard Joyce was more than happy to show me around and let me clamber over and in it and I loved every minute. I was particularly taken by the eccentricity of the knee windows and back doors. What a great vehicle.
Other cars I particularly enjoyed were the Brooks BMC/Cotswold Camper Smurf, Billy Bob’s Bedford Dormobile Romany and of course the lovely Humber Imperial limousine.
Much fun was had, many chats were chatted and of course, copious amounts of cake consumed. In short, I had a fantastic time and it will be difficult to top this one. That won’t stop our Fat Controller of events from trying though.
So a HUGE THANKS to both John Simpson and Gar Cole for setting this up. Well done Chaps - you are Jolly good Eggs! And thanks to everyone who turned up. I hope you had as good a time as I did.
Sadly, as these things do, the show came to an end and it was time to depart. My gentleman’s abode was ably consumed by Poppy and it was time to say goodbye and head for home.
Poppy performed superbly… until I got to Northampton. She developed a bit of a misfire with loss of power and occasional back fire. I amazed myself by instantly and correctly diagnosing an ignition problem. Removing the dizzy cap revealed a very sooty rotor arm which I quickly replaced with the spare I always carry. Well I say quickly but this did involve unpacking my entire boot to get to my spare parts box. Boot repacked and Poppy running smoothly again, I set off feeling very self-satisfied and smug.
This feeling lasted for precisely 103 yards when Poppy’s engine died away completely and we rolled to a stop. My heart sank as I had a sneaky feeling I knew what the problem would be.
I lifted the bonnet again and yes, the fuel filter was empty. I pumped the hand primer and fuel was pulled through so I tried to start her. She ran for about 5 seconds before stalling again.
I disconnected the pipe where it joins the carb and hand pumped again. Petrol came out the pipe, but nothing when cranked on the key. My brand new fuel pump wasn’t being activated by the cam.
For the first time in my 16 years ownership I was going to have to call for rescue. For the 1st time in 16 years, Poppy had left me stranded at the side of the road. It wasn’t her fault though. It was the fault of the shoddy workmanship in modern replacement parts.
I bit the bullet and called the Men in Yellow. They arrived surprisingly quickly. Just 20 Minutes of chatting to passers by about Poppy and they arrived. The mechanic said “Well you sound like you know what you’re talking about”(If only he’d read my blogs!). “Do you think we can fix it here?” I said not, unless he had a spare original Triumph fuel pump in his van! He didn’t, so another 20 minutes later, Poppy was strapped to a towing dolly and we were headed for Chieveley services to meet the relay that would get me home.
To be continued....
by Gar Cole
My last blog ended with my Princess about to have yet more money spent on it. After a disastrous xmas period where the repaired suspension collapsed a further 3 times I decided to cut my losses after sinking over £2500 into the car and sold it to a fellow Princess enthusiast with more patience and deeper pockets than I have.
In the previous summer I had been given a 1959 classic caravan by my brothers 'father in law'. It is a charming and ridiculous 8ft long by 5ft wide, made by L & R Fisher this Holivan Junior was designed to be pulled by sub 1.3 cars of the era such as a Minor or A35 , weighing in at a featherweight 260kgs, it had been stored in a barn since 1985, it was in need of restoration even then but being stored for the last 30 years in the dry saved what was left of it, being a typical car hoarder now downsizing his collection the caravan and several cars went to new homes after never being 'gotten around to '.
I am in the process of fully renovating the caravan and plan to debut it at the Gloucester steam rally in August, question was what car would I get to pull it to shows?
Around October last year a friend mentioned he knew of a Moggy 4 door for sale by someone in the owners club, it wasn't perfect but a good car, arrangements were made and I went to see it, first glance he looked great, but on closer inspection every panel told the story of the last 50 years, a collection of rust bubbles, peeled lacquer, stone chips, moisture spots in parts that had been touched up over the years, perfectly described by Mike Peake as 'Gloriously Shabby' at a later group show.
However things vastly improved on the inside which is in very nice condition , it had been updated over the years with a heater from a classic mini installed, mini 2 speed wipers and heated rear window conversion plus seat belts front and back, a big wad of receipts for mechanical work carried out including the infamous 'trunnions' , he also had a full mot and drove spot on during the test drive, instantly charmed by this little car as have many others been before by its brethren I asked what he wanted for it, he showed me a valuation by his insurance for £2500 and indicated he was looking for close to that figure.
I felt this was a little high given the paint finish and asked him why he was selling it after spending so much on the oily bits, it seems he was in the army and was about to be deployed for another 6 months and has nowhere to store it and he didn't want to leave it out in the elements on what was a fairly rough housing estate, I put on my best sad face and said I couldn't afford 2.5K but if it was mine I'd properly care for it and take it to shows all year round while slowly restoring it one part at a time, I had £1100 in my savings account which is meant to be used for repairs on my 2 taxis as and when faults occur, so I offered that amount, he took my hand and shook it, with myself fully expecting him to wish me a good day and safe trip home, instead he said ' ok it's yours for £1100 if you promise to care for it'.
( Cue jaw on the floor moment )
Driving home the 60 miles from Aylesbury to Sutton Coldfield I couldn't believe my luck, yes it wasn't perfect but it was a decent car for little cash and after the money pit that was the Princess I looked forward to some low cost classic motoring, however..............
I didn't drive it myself on the test drive and was happy to be a passenger, however a few days after getting it home and sorting out insurance I looked forward to my first drive, opened the door and managed to get 1 leg and buttock in the car before I became stuck between the door frame and the original 18" steering wheel, imagine a Sardine trying to get back inside it's tin and you have the right mental image. Mortified I quietly ordered a nice 15" aftermarket steering wheel as an xmas present to myself and abandoned the test drive.
A few days after new year I fitted my shiny new (and smaller) 15in wheel and it's adaptor boss kit, it looked fab, I climbed in and arghhhhhh, despite it being 3 inches smaller it was a thicker rim and the boss adaptor brought it higher and closer that I'd imagined, the wheel now jabbed into my chest just under the rib cage, neatly making breathing difficult and controlling the car almost impossible, being a larger chap who had always fitted in modern small cars I never even gave a thought to not fitting in a classic small car, I swallowed my pride and carefully trawled the Internet until I found the smallest wheel I could find, an 11" Mountney wheel made for a ............. Go Kart.
Stop that sniggering at the back, at least I could fit in now and enjoy my first test drive which also happened to be my 40th birthday weekend shared with friends from our group, despite 'Nelsons' rough appearance every one had positive comments to give and made him star of the day at the Vulcan trust we visited, the car drove great but I could tell it needed some work doing which I'll cover next time if you're all interested 😀
By Mike Peake
Poppy was running sweetly and my thoughts were turning to our groups main event this year at the Boston Bubble car Museum. However, my shame at the state of Poppy’s paintwork was becoming unbearable. Even Mrs FB was commenting on how rough she was looking and it was all topped off when my youngest daughter sent me pictures of a Herald she’d spotted saying, “Look. I found a car like Poppy, only shiny!” I was crying myself to sleep almost nightly with shame and guilt.
So at the NEC, I took my courage in my hands and decided to ask some experts how to go about preparing for a re-spray and how much it was likely to cost. I couldn’t find any experts so had to settle for the Brooks brothers who are at least knowledgeable in the Dark Arts of bodywork and painting. (Actually, I’m lying. They are truly the Darth Vaders of the Dark Arts and continually turn out stunning examples. That wouldn’t have sounded funny though.)
They in their wisdom, pronounced that apart from the boot lid, I could probably get away with a machine polish. Well I was a bit dubious as I had tried this last year as you may remember and wasn’t that impressed.
Then I started to think about it and realised that it may have been the fact that I am a bumbling incompetent fool that led to the less than impressive result. I began to think that maybe taking it out of the box, plugging it in and shouting “Tally Ho” without so much as even looking at any instructions, may have been a bit of a gung ho method of approach. So I decided to do something radical. Yes, I would research the “How to” sites and actually learn how to machine polish. I know! What was I thinking? I came over all funny and flustered at the thought of my sensibleness.
My initial research showed very quickly that this wasn’t going to be easy. In fact it seemed fiendishly complicated as I battled my way the differences in foam pads and the applicable colour codes, and that there are various different grades of polishing compound as well as a process called clay barring.
So I persevered and learned all I could and watched lots of videos showing technique. I worked out a plan and posted this plan on the FB group “Detailing for Dummies” (It seemed appropriate somehow) to get approval of my plan. Imagine my surprise when my plan met with almost universal approval, but this was nothing when set against my trepidation that it was actually time to stop reading and watching and get off my fat bottom and actually DO IT!
I selected and ordered all the pads, polishes and waxes I thought I would need. I ordered a set of different graded foam pads for my Silverline polisher and some micro fibre cloths. I also ordered shampoo, compound, polish, liquid wax, clay bar and quick detailer and some tyre black, all from Maguire’s Ultimate range. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but it all came to rather more money than I was expecting. I hope you are sitting down but all this cost £75. I was a little bit shocked at this outlay, I can tell you.
My plan was a 6-step process as follows:-
All six steps would be applied to 1 panel before having a rest and moving on to the next panel.
The following weekend found me standing beside Poppy surrounded by cleaning products, nervously building up the courage to start.
I decided the top of the bonnet would be classed as 2 panels and started on the offside panel, working through the steps above being very careful to faithfully follow the techniques I’d seen on You Tube.
It was much harder work than I thought both physically, in applying pressure and keeping the polisher from skipping across the panel, and mentally, in maintaining the level of concentration required. I have no idea how long this panel took as I lost track of time but when I stood back for a look after the waxing step, I was stunned! The left hand side of Poppies bonnet was red. Not only was it red, it was shiny and red. Not only was it shiny and red, but I could see the sky above reflected in my paintwork.
I was very pleased with the result and was tempted to press on with the rest of the car immediately but I remembered that every single video had said to do a small piece at a time and then have a break otherwise tiredness can lead to mistakes. So I went and had a brew.
Over the next few days, I slowly worked my way round the car with (if I say so myself) astonishing results. I was in serious danger of breaking out of my default level of “bumbling incompetent fool” and breaking into the next level of “almost looks like he knows what he’s doing”. Even neighbours were stopping by and looking at my work with amazement and awe.
This didn’t last for long though. I’d worked my way around the car and only had the boot lid to do. I was tired and should have been calling it a night, but I only had the boot lid to do. I gave into temptation and pressed ahead to get the car finished. This was the point I fell back squarely to my normal level and allowed the backing pad on the polisher to come into contact with the moulded edge around the number plate and “burned through” the paint on quite a large area. I may have said some bad words. Quite a lot of very bad words.
But when I stood back and looked at the finished result of the whole car my little accident with the boot lid diminished in scale. After all, I was planning on re-spraying the boot lid anyway and the rest of the car looked great, almost unrecognisable.
I really am incredibly pleased with the result. So much so that I even told Maguire’s in the hope that I would get some free product for promoting their goods. They haven’t got back to me yet, but I’m sure they will.
By Mike Peake
Do you remember me saying that Poppy had a slight misfire when pulling away from the petrol pump at the NEC? I had deliberately run her low due to the NEC rules of having next to no petrol in the tanks of display cars. I’d put the small misfire down to being really lucky and running out of petrol as I pulled up to the pump and taking a little while for the newly topped up fuel to get to the carb, especially as she got me home without any further trouble. However, I was wrong.
Poppy proved the wrongness of my diagnosis on the morning of the Pride of Longbridge (POL) show. I’d promised to go up to support Gar Cole with setting up our group pitch, so 6 am found me sat in Poppy on the drive fruitlessly turning the engine over on the key. The new starter motor was going like the clappers but Poppy refused to fire up. Time to lift the bonnet and try to look like I know what I’m doing for all the cross neighbours looking out their windows having been woken up ridiculously early on a Saturday morning.
The inline fuel filter was suspiciously empty so I deduced that I had run out of fuel. I thought this odd as I’ve never done that before but dashed off to the local Esso for a can and a gallon of their ridiculously priced finest. (I’d lent my fuel can to my father in law so had to buy a new one.) The gallon was quickly dispensed into Poppy and I was back in the driver’s seat cranking away and annoying the neighbours again. She still wouldn’t start even after I remembered that Heralds have a reserve and switching to that.
The fuel filter was still suspiciously empty, so I wondered if the feed line was blocked and decided to suck it and see. Perhaps I should have blown it to see but I didn’t think of that until I had a mouth full of petrol dribbling down my chin onto my shirt, but at least I now knew the line wasn’t blocked and was pretty sure my fuel pump had let me down and it was time for plan B.
So back into the house for a quick change of shirt and a mouthwash gargle to get rid of the taste of petrol and It was time to decide which modern to take. Mrs FB was still in bed so it was incredibly tempting to steal her car as it is such great fun to drive. I thought it would even be worth the lynching from fellow show goers if I turned up to POL in a BMW Mini. However, the thought of Mrs FB’s reaction if I took the Mini without permission convinced me to take my Honda CR-V.
I was now very late, so appreciated the CR-V’s mile munching abilities right up to the point that it turned into the “Drive of Shame” in the queue to get in. A promise is a promise though and I’d promised Gar I’d be there, so turning up my collar and slipping down in the driver’s seat so I could only just see over the wheel I tried to sneak in as anonymously as possible.
This was made difficult by marshals trying to turn me away and the official photographer laughing while he tried to take my picture on the way in. However, I eventually arrived at our pitch which was mostly set up without my help, and I was looking forward to basking in the sympathy of my classic car comrades.
I should have known better of course as they made me park in the naughty corner hiding behind a large tree and any sympathy was quickly overwhelmed as my comrades made full use of the opportunity to give me a thorough ribbing about turning up to POL of all shows in a 1 year old Honda. The situation wasn’t improved when my comrades found out that I had left my “award winning Lemon Drizzle cake” on the back seat of Poppy back home in Royal Wootton Basset!
Fortunately, other members had remembered cake, so the day wasn’t a complete disaster and was spent very pleasantly. Highlight of the show for me was the Brooks brothers Humber. I think it suited me perfectly as I looked so regal sitting in the back, but for some reason, they wouldn’t chauffer me home.
I arrived home early evening and wasted no time at all in cracking open the Merlot before wasting no time at all starting my search for a new fuel pump.
All the big 3 supplied them so went for the cheapest. It arrived on Tuesday and I was fitting it on Friday afternoon. It didn’t fit. When I directly compared it to the one I’d taken off the engine, the wiggly waggly thingy that sticks into the engine was a very different shape and profile.
I said some rude words and went indoors, where Mrs FB said some even ruder words and sent me back outside. Apparently, I was wafting a very strong smell of petrol everywhere I went, so I was made to take off my petrol soaked clothing and sent straight upstairs to the bath. I wasn’t even allowed to delay long enough to make a G&T to take with me!
Sometime later, smelling somewhat sweeter and a G&T in hand, I was surfing the web looking for help. Who’d have thought that a little fuel pump could cause so much trouble? It seemed that everyone had a tale to tell about new fuel pumps currently on sale and no 2 were the same. Some didn’t fit at all, some ran at too high a flow and flooded the carbs. Others needed spacers to get them to work and some wouldn’t even work with spacers. Some even said that they fitted perfectly and worked a treat straight from the box! (actually, I only found one of these.)
I took some photos of the old and new pumps side by side so you could clearly see the different profiles of the wiggly waggly thingy and sent them by email to the supplier asking them why their pump wouldn’t fit? I also posted my SOS in several Facebook groups including ours.
You didn’t disappoint and soon my notification counter was catching fire with the numbers of replies from everyone wanting to impart the experiences with modern versions of our fuel pump. These were many and varied and I was getting even more confused rather than being helped. That was until I saw a post from our very own Gandalf of classic cars and nominee for the lifetime achievement award himself. Yes, Lord John Simpson had replied to this mere mortal in despair. He said “Fit a spacer”.
When I had recovered from the shock that a man of Lord Simpsons stature and fame in our field thought that I was worthy of a reply, I immediately ordered a spacer and some longer bolts to replace the current studs. They arrived. I fitted them. It worked!
I was so pleased that I immediately went for a 20 mile test drive around the green lanes of north Wiltshire grinning with that feeling of achievement.
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