Pixie's Workbench - 2mm/ft Diesels and a 305mm/ft Cavalier

[John lewsey]

Yep Flash Gordon

[nick_bastable]

its not got the pointy bit to spear Ming  

[Caley Jim]

I always think these units have an air of Flash Gordon about them, is it just me?

That's surely long before your time?

 

Jim (for whom it is not!)

[Stephen 28]

That's surely long before your time?

 

Jim (for whom it is not!)

Black and white repeats back when there were only three channels and it beat the test card for entertainment value.

[nick_bastable]

That's surely long before your time?

 

Jim (for whom it is not!)

no he is thinking of the Queen version which is on the idiot box frequently

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sa_p9Up9DFg

Edited November 8, 2016 by nick_bastable

[Enterprisingwestern]

It sure is better than the dull/boring/ugly dross foisted on us here in Britain, has no one in the railway design department got a spirit of adventure?

 

Mike.

[Stephen 28]

no he is thinking of the Queen version which is on the idiot box frequently

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sa_p9Up9DFg

Oh no, the proper 1950s? one, although I was taken to see the modern one as a treat for my eighth birthday!

[Pixie]

Your Cavalier exploits make great reading, have you ever thought about writing a book?

Thanks, that's very flattering! I don't really think there would be demand for any form of publication, perhaps a blog or something would be a slightly better home. To be honest, I really wrote the Cavalier Chronicles for myself as a record of the adventure although I'm very pleased they are of interest to others. I've also written similar records of trips to Japan and other places which I'll put on here in due course.

 

As for the 'blue' train, shall we just call it 'Beaky MacBeakface'?

I think it's a spit for Sam Eagle from the Muppets.

 

 

They're ace on the inside; a cross between an airship and a submarine.

 

It sure is better than the dull/boring/ugly dross foisted on us here in Britain, has no one in the railway design department got a spirit of adventure?

 

Mike.

Well, Electrostars have a certain charisma.

 

If you want truly adventurous, have a look at the new Twilight Express Mizukaze stock - http://trafficnews.jp/post/56106/160816_mizukaze_01/. Not only a hotel-on-rails, the master suite is at the front of the train has its own balcony underneath the drivers cab. That's my honeymoon sorted.

 

Right then, back in Blighty and the two 12 hour flights gave me an opportunity to polish up the next two instalments of Cavalier Chronicles. I've not forgotten the Dapol Remotoring, I'll try to get this done in the next few weeks. In the meantime....

 

Cavalier Chronicles - Part 3 - The Hunt

 

With a refreshed outlook and change of tact, the hunt resumed. This time the parameters had relaxed - I was looking for a Cavalier that was DVLA registered and with at least 6 months MOT. Everything else was downgraded from necessity to nicety. A saloon was preferable, but I wouldn't instantly rule out a tidy Sportshatch or a Coupe if one came up. Perhaps I could even go all European with an Opel badged Manta B? I wanted something that was solid, maybe with a light bit of tidying here and there - a basket case wasn't a practical option to take on with the resources available to me. Any colour would do both inside and out, although I'd prefer a neutral colour interior. And as trim is notoriously difficult to find, it needed to be in good condition too. I had a budget to work with, but I could stretch if something unmissable came up. Nowhere in the UK was out of the question, if one came up in Wick or Penzance then we'll be in the first sleeper out of London with several kilograms of travel sweets for the drive back. The engine really needed to be either a 1600 or 2000 - the 1300 would be a little pedestrian after four decades of abuse. A base model L or GL would be nice, the top level GLS was a bit excessive for my tastes. Oh, and a manual. I'd never driven an automatic and didn't trust them. Whilst the mentality was vastly more open minded than before, I wasn't going to jump on the first one that came up that I'd regret moments after driving off the proverbial forecourt. At the same time, I didn't want to wait forever for a car that didn't exist.

 

A thrice daily trawl of saved eBay searches, forum sales listing and online classifieds was established - once on the throne in the morning, one with a coffee at lunch and one last thing at night in bed. If I had a wife, I'm sure the latter would have annoyed her greatly. A cursory glance was given to various magazines in the local magazine library (Er, Tesco) although they offered few leads - the internet revolution seems to have swept the old school inky classifieds aside. I cautiously also made it known to a few people within the Cavalier Club I was on the lookout for an example, although I was keen to not look too needy. Every time a new example appeared, there was a short heartbeat-skipping moment. "Would this be the one?", I'd mutter to myself is a worryingly Mark Corogan-esk voice.

 

Slowly but surely, candidates started to appear. First up was a scruffy 2000GL barn find in maroon. It looked fairly solid but MOT-less and requiring a repainted, it wasn't to be. Next!

 

 

Then a very neat metallic blue 2000GL Sportshatch appeared. It had certainly looked after and was ready to go with a fresh MOT, but it's not the saloon I dreamt of. The vivid blue interior was also migraine inducing, if beautifully retro. It ticked most of the boxes but at £4000 it was too much for something that wasn't quite what I wanted. Next!

 

 

This 1600GL saloon appeared one Sunday morning on the Cars and Classics website. It needed some attention to the paint work but at £1000 and with 11-month MOT, there was room in the budget to put it right. I got straight in the phone to the seller and summoned the EBCC (East Bracknell Car Club... well, friends Ryan and Drew to be precise) with a code red text to prepare for a trip to Telford that afternoon. They duly arrived whilst the seller sorted out a few more photos. Was today the day?! No. The JPEGs landed in my inbox - the interior was a wreck. B0llocks. Next!

 

 

Picture the scene. It's 1979. You're doing well as a middle manager in an engineering firm and you've had the nod from the head honcho that you're in line for a bonus. You've escaped the shop floor, so Jim Callaghan's pay cap has eluded you. Life is good. To celebrate you treat your wife to a newly released Sony Walkman and take the kids out for the equally new Happy Meal from that American burger restaurant they keep talking about. Whilst they tuck in, you study the Vauxhall brochure you picked up earlier that day from the dealership. The latest episode of Dallas is on in the background. As a successful management type, you need a vehicle to represent your status. There's only one choice - a fully spec'ed 2000GLS Cavalier in metallic brown with brown vynide interior and brown vinyl roof.

 

Jump forward to 2016. Whilst being browntastic, it's well out of my budget at £6500. Next!

 

 

Woah there, an orange one! It was terribly listed on eBay with a patchy description and images from the Stevie Wonder School of Photography. Still, it was worthy of investigation. Dated 70s orange paintwork - check. 1600 lump - check. Base model L - check. MOT'ed - check. Beige interior - check. It was going well. Located in Essex - check. Saloon - check. Manu.. a... l... Ah, automatic. Damn it. Fallen at the final hurdle. Next!

 

 

How about a beautiful one-owner-from-new Chevette? 13000 miles on the clock with every MOT since new to back it up. The dream package, if you want a Chevette. Which I didn't. Next!

 

 

Hmmm. Lowered, brush painted and rotten through. One for stripping and banger-ing, sadly. Next!

 

 

I updated the my amigos one evening of the progress made and the Cavalier's that had been appearing. The attitude was relentlessly militant since the successful arrival of Rafa, a 1985 Mk.3 Escort saved from a dairy farm by Ryan. (Yes, I know. We're grown men; we know we shouldn't name cars. However, he'd become Rafa. For the love of God - 'he'. Listen to me. It's an inanimate object). There was no boundaries or limitations, anything could be rebuilt, moved, restored, repainted or tweaked. Alchemy was child's play and could be done in an Easy-Bake oven. Scaling Everest could be done in plimsolls, fuelled only by a bottle of Vimto and 20 Lucky Strikes. Titanic only required some light tinkering to make it it almost new. Pragmatically, I think they were just bored of me showing Cavaliers for sale and having a reason not to buy them, but the positivity was refreshing none the less.

 

"Why not get the maroon one? It looks solid and will fly through the MOT."

"How do you know? It's could be a wreck."

"It'll be fine! Buy it!"

"No, I want one with an MOT."

"Fine, buy the orange Essex one. That's MOT'ed"

"No, it's an automatic."

"And? Buy the Essex one."

"I want one with a manual gearbox"

"The one in Ireland was a manual, buy that."

"It's a heap. A professional even said so"

"Buy both!"

"I'm not buying either, I'm especially not buying the Irish one!"

"How do you especially not buy something? Fine, Essex one it is. Email him now."

"I'll think about it."

"That's a no. Get the Essex one, you can change a gearbox in minutes."

"What? No, you can't. Ergh, maybe. I'll sleep on it. Pint?"

"Yes, it's your round. I'll buy the first one in Essex."

 

We retired for beers at the Bell where the tone of conversation remained the same. Cavalier hunting had been thirsty work and numerous jugs were rapidly consumed.

 

The next morning I took a long, hot shower in an attempt to wash away the hangover and started to contemplate the exchanges of the previous evening. To be honest, my resistance was born out of my own stubbornness. I'm not very good at being told what to do, ask an ex-girlfriend if in any doubt. The Essex Cavalier did look good, and the automatic gearbox was more an unknown than a negative. Besides, it could be changed it if really didn't get on with it or it went bang. I had time to think about it and do some research - today was Thursday 23rd July, the car had been listed the previous day on a 10-day listing so finished on Saturday 1st August. I'm sure the others would relent in the mean time to give me a bit of time to think things through....

 

 

Ugh.

 

Wednesday 29th July started as any other work day - the alarm sounded at 6:45, I staggered my way to the bathroom and questioned what I was doing with my life as I stared through the mirror. However, a deviation from the norm occurred whilst rooting through my pants drawer; today required lucky pants. As it happens, today also required a hell of a lot of breathing in whilst taking this photo - the ravages of time, ale and curry have not been kind since I last wore them for my university finals.

 

 

I hoped in the car and headed in the opposite direction to my usual daily commute towards Chateaux-Ryan. Over breakfast, I briefed my accomplice. Within the next 6 hours we were to find £2000 in used notes, fill out the paperwork for a garage, collect garage keys, arrange some insurance and collect the necessary supplies for a day’s adventuring. At 15:00sharp, we'd rendezvous with Drew and head for Essex, arriving at 17:00. We'd inspect, test drive and assuming all is well, convince the seller to end the auction early and shake hands on a carefully bartered deal. Then it was a simple case of nursing a 40 year old car around the M25 in rush hour traffic towards Bracknell for celebratory tea and meddles. This was to be a momentous day, assuming all went smoothly. We finished our fry-ups and set to work.

 

We did well. By 14:30, I was the proud owner (well, renter) of a garage and had necessary tools packed to barter a deal. Phase 1 was complete.

 

 

It had been quite a build up to sitting in the back of Drew's BMW and the journey was a welcome bit of calm. Work had been particularly chaotic and I hadn't aided the situation by insisting on a day off; my boss didn't entirely buy the 'I'm off to buy an old car' excuse either. Additionally Bracknell Council, despite their previous promises, weren't able to arrange a garage of any form and wouldn't be able to for the next month at least as the Garage-rental-bod was on holiday. Luckily Windsor Council could offer something and saved the day at the eleventh hour. There had been numerous phone calls to insurance companies, vehicle check services and knowledgable Vauxhall folk to get clued up on inspecting a Cavalier. They'd also given me plenty of tips on how to evaluate an automatic gearbox, or Slushbox, as they referred to it. Like the Irish interlude before, it was exciting to have things moving but I didn't want to get ahead of myself. What if this had the same anticlimactic ending? Doubts started to creep in; what if it was a heap? Or even worse, what if it was borderline? What if the seller didn't want to end the auction early? What if it immediately failed after we'd shaken hands? What if it didn't fit in the garage? I appreciate the latter is verging on the ridiculous but it was a possibility. The build up had been huge and there was the very real possibility it could end in disappointment again.

 

 

As we peeled M25 at Junction 29, the sunny climbs of Basildon came into view. We were getting close. Precisely one week earlier I’d been adamantly stating I wouldn't be going to Essex and here we were crossing the border. However, the atmosphere was not one of begrudging resentment but adventure. A bit of Boys Own, Famous Five fun. It had been so easy to list reasons not to do it that I'd lost sight of the enjoyment of actually doing it would bring. There's a life lesson in there somewhere.

 

As we turned into seller's street, there was the unmistakable outline of a Cavalier majestically glimmered in the July evening sunshine.

 

Whilst having a cursory look around we were greeted by Dave, the owner. We'd swapped a few texts before to arrange meeting but I wasn't really sure of what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the Elvis-a-like who'd cheerfully greeted us. He showed us around the Cavalier, explaining has was a mechanic and the previous owner was a customer of his who'd fallen on tough times. He took it on with the intention of having it as a weekend car but his health had deteriorated too. I took all of this at face value - I had no proof either way and, to be honest, it was irrelevant. We started to look around the Cavalier with a bit more detail. He described it as original which was a fair assessment - It had some wear here and there but it was solid. These were things I could address fairly easily; a few light dings and minor scratch. Dave kindly jacked it up and all the normal rot-hot-spots were like new. Other elements were reassuring - the dashboard wasn't cracked which was a sign it had spent most of its life in a garage and the wheel arches were still drowned in original factory sealant. This was shaping up nicely, it was a well looked after example.

 

 

I climbed inside with Dave. The interior was near perfect - not only in first class condition but it was the same base-model beige cloth that DJB 181V had. Instantly the memories of small details came pouring back - the shapes of the window winders, the texture of the rear fag trays and, oddly, the slight musty smell of the dash. We set off for a test drive. To be honest, I didn't pay a huge amount of attention. I knew by this point this was a car worth going for, I just had to work out my tactic. It was listed on eBay with a starting bid of £999, it was probably worth to me about £1800, possibly a little more at a push. I'd precounted various amounts as a visual persuader if there was any negotiation retired. As we pulled back into the seller's road I decided to go for it.

 

 

"So, Dave. It's nice, needs a bit of tidying up here and there but I'd like to give it a good home. How does £1500 sound?"

 

He paused. Christ, this was tense. It was like asking a girl out.

 

"Hold out your hand son."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

We shook with a satisfyingly firm grip.

 

 

Yes!

Yeeesss!

Yeeeeeeesssssss!

We'd done it!

We'd only 'kin done it!

This was no longer a Cavalier, it was my Cavalier!

 

All of the frustrations, anguish and disappointment of the previous few months instantly lifted. I beamed from ear to ear. After years of talking about it, I had my Cavalier! We got out the car to do the paperwork. I simply looked at my compatriots and grinned in a 'Bought it' fashion. The retorted with the greatest 'We told you so' stare known to man.

 

 

Money exchanged. Documents in hand. Parting hand shake made. Ryan took shotgun in the Cavalier and we prepared to hit the road. "Right, how the hell do you drive an automatic?" I asked. It was a sincere enquiry, I had no idea. After a quick briefing from my passenger we hit the road...

 

 

....before immediately stopping at the end of the drive. I wasn't aware of this, but road tax no longer transfers with the car when you sell it. It stays with the seller. Heading off into the sunset is difficult when you need to pull up and give the government a couple of hundred quid, it spoils the illusion somewhat. iPhone fired up, tax paid, we hit the road...

 

 

....Jesus, the fuel tank is nigh on empty. I should have bartered for a tank of petrol. Best fill up for the drive home.

 

 

Time to hightail it out of Essex, for real this time. For an inaugural drive it was a baptism of fire - straight onto the M25 during the drive-time commute. The Cavalier took a little getting used to, it was far heavier than anything I'd driven before. Manual choke, no power steering and the constant reaching for the non-existent clutch pedal. It was enormous too, like driving a wheeled narrow boat. It felt sure footed though, solid and keen to keep going. At first we kept it as a steady 50-ish; looking at its MOT history is had done less than 200 miles a year for the last few years so I didn't want to cane it. But as the miles were clocked up, confidence grew and opened it up a little more. As we crossed the Dartford bridge, the enormity of the situation sunk in. With the glorious evening sunlight illuminating our surroundings, I was driving along in the car I'd spend the last decade talking about with lifelong friends alongside and behind. It was spectacle - a true moment to savour and a reminder to no just talk about doing thing. It had been a long day though and with blood sugar rapidly fading, we decided to break for a celebratory McDeath. On this day of victories, here I also discovered the existence of McDonald's apple pies. How have I avoided these for 26 years? They're heart-stoppingly delicious.

 

With car and humans suitably refuelled, there was one task left for the day - The Grand Unveiling. I hadn't told Dad exactly what we were up to that day, I'd vaguely mentioned there was a car that we were going to look at but I'd made no references to buying it or it being a Cavalier. He had been avidly interested from the start so I hoped this would a superb surprise. Mum was in on it all and had agreed to get Dad to a pub where we'd pitch up on the pretence of a normal evening beer. When we were close our rendezvous point, I passed my phone to my wingman and asked him to send the message - we were on.

 

 

Wait, what? 'Love Ryan'? And a winky face?! What’s happening here?!

 

As we turned into the Leathern Bottle, I could see Dad waiting out front. If he hadn't been suspicious before, I'm sure being commanded to stand out the front of a pub sounded alarm bells.

 

"So, what do you think?!".

"You ######."

 

Mum and Dad both received the grand tour and we filled them in on our victorious day over a well-deserved beer. As is necessary with such landmark events, we lined up for the seminar photo. In the excitement of the moment, Mum forgot which way round to hold an iPhone.

 

 

Much better.

 

 

As the sun dropped below the horizon it was time to put the new arrival to bed. Dad got in and we set off on our inaugural run in the Cavalier. Here we were, some 18 years, 2 months and 28 days since DJB 181V's final drive to be weighed in, sat upfront in an orange Mk.1 Cavalier again. Had we been told at the time of DJB 181V's demise that we'd be here again I don't think either of us would have believed it. On the short drive to the garage, I began to realise that this wasn't my Cavalier. It was our Cavalier. This was the start of something brilliant.

 

Job done - I'm indebted to those made it possible. Thank you.

 

Welcome to the family OOO. You'll fit in well here.

 

To be continued...

[D869]

Love the iPhone photo. Reminds me of one of my major birthdays when I did a steam driving experience on the GCR. My Mum was in charge of the camcorder and No 1 offspring. I ended up with plenty good footage of her feet as she walked along the platform. She never quite got the hang of the 'record' button or what that little red dot was supposed to mean.

 

Hope you and the Cav are happy together.

[Ian Morgan]

Lovely story. Hope it goes well for you.

 

I used to have a blue GLS 2000 saloon with the vinyl roof in the early 1980's and did a lot of miles across europe. I was working near Munchen Gladbach when one of the brake calipers locked on solid. Considering it was built in Belgium, I could not get a replacement part. In the end, my boss brought one from the UK in his hand luggage when he came over for a regular meeting.

 

I traded it in for a new Volvo 240 estate (white with black trim) making use of my tax-free status. This was another lovely car, but it had to go when I was promoted to a level that came with a company car (initially Astras, but after another promotion, Cavaliers). The company I worked for had such a good deal with Vauxhall, we got a new car every 11 months. The company then put them into an auction and usually made more than they had paid for them new.

 

Ian

Hampshire

[Pixie]

Cavalier Chronicles - Part 4 - Getting to Know You

 

 

 

I appreciate, dear reader, that the story so far has been a relatively personal one and as a result, save for those who were there when it happened; it may not be of particular resonance. Indeed, the past 11,000 words could really be summed up as:

 

Man owns car. Son of man becomes nostalgic about said car. Son of man buy similar car.

 

I feel it’s been important to set the scene but my main reason for writing these has been to document the work that goes into the project – an illustrated history of this phase of the cars life. In many respects, this is just a 305mm/ft modelling project. There’s the background research, the people you meet along the way, the ideas you share, the same useless suppliers you complain about, the joys when it works and the threats of selling it when it doesn’t. It’s worth noting that subsequent posts may not be strictly chronological, but grouped into subjects. I am trying desperately hard not to become a car bore – I’d much prefer to focus of the human elements and skills involved, as opposed to nitty-gritty technical specs. I do apologies in advance for when I drift to the nerd-zone however.

 

The previous posts have covered my side of the story, but what about the car’s history? How has the 36 years before I turned up treated it? The paperwork I received with the car was minimal – the last two MOT certificates and the V5. That’s it. All of the below has been pieced together from internet trawling and circumstantial evidence on the car itself, however the main bulk has come from the DVLA’s records. I wasn’t previously aware of this, but the DVLA offer access to their records by request if you have suitable justification for requiring it. The service is archaic at best – you fill out a V888 form, staple a fiver to it, pop it in the post and wait. People have had differing results – some have waited 12 months and just received their form back (with DISAPPROVED in big red letters across it), whilst others have received reams of information with a week or two. It was worth a shot at least and around a month later I received a weighty envelope from Swansea.

 

 

Jackpot! Flicking through the DVLA had supplied a copy of every document they had on record – from the initial registration from the dealership when new, right up to the most recent V5 with my scratchy hand writing on it.

 

So, what’s the Cavalier’s story?

 

 

It was built at Opel’s plant in Antwerp in February 1980, or at least the interior was fitted then judging by the construction ticket found under the rear passenger seat. It was approximately the 4 millionth car built at the plant and towards the end of the Cavalier production line which ceased 11 months later. Its Belgian roots probably contributed towards its survival – the grade of steel used there was notably more rust-resistant than that used by Vauxhall’s Luton plant.

 

 

It was a common-or-garden 1600L Saloon base model, by far the most numerous Cavalier sold. The only pizzazz being the automatic gearbox and metallic paint - both optional extras. Indeed, the only optional extras available for this model. The 1979 brochure this car would have been picked out as was keen to point out features such as front and rear ashtrays, internal bonnet lock and, get this, flashing hazard warning lights. This was period porridge motoring at its best, even down to the porridge coloured plaid interior.

 

 

 

 

After crossing the Channel, it was provided as stock for to the Jessups dealership in Milton Road, Westcliffe-On-Sea. It was registered with the DVLA on the 30th April 1980, from the Chelmsford office. The registration form is rather unlovingly signed ‘Sales Admin’. The Jessups forecourt now lives under a block of flats, however the car has retained its original dealer plates which are a nice touch.

 

 

It’s first owner was a chap called John who purchase the car from Jessup’s on the 4th September 1981. One wonders if he got a good deal, considering it had been on the forecourt for almost 18 months. He lived in Benfleet, here to be precise.

 

 

In late 1984, John sold the car to Windsor Auto Sales in Westcliffe-on-Sea. Perhaps he upgraded to a shiny Mk.2 Cavalier? On the 19th February 1985, it was purchased from there by a man called Glenn, by far the longest owner. I’ve tried a little searching to see if I can find any information on him, but it just brings up a link to Essex’s Police’s most wanted. Let’s hope it’s just a coincidence, eh? Glenn certainly didn’t use it much, between its 2005 and 2015 MOT it had covered less than 3500 miles according to the Certificates supplied by the DVLA. It was also assuring to see it had only failed its MOT once during this period for a duff shock absorber. This is its home during this period.

 

 

Enter Dave, who appeared in the last post. He purchased the car from its long term owner on 12th March 2015. Knowing what I know now, the story he gave ties up fully with the history that’s been found. I doubt our paths will ever cross again, but if they do, I shall buy him a beer. There’s certainly no doubt that the Cavalier is an Essex machine at heart.

 

This is where I pitch up and the rest, as they say, is history. The first weekend after driving it back from Essex, there was a Mk. 1 Cavalier parked up in the parking bay where its forerunner once sat. Dad and I spent the day getting to know the Cavalier and drawing up a mental list of what needed to be done.

 

 

To be honest, I get no real pleasure from driving. It's a purposeful but dull act for getting from A to B, making life a bit easier and keeping my waistline bigger than it should be. So why put all this energy into an old car then? Simply put, tinkering. I'm in this for the engineering and restoration; working out how something should function, fathoming out why the hell it doesn't and putting it right again. I inherited the tinkering gene from Dad who doesn't have a mobile number yet will rewire old mobile phones purely for the gratification of seeing something work again. It's an addictive and life absorbing trait - given the straight choice between driving down the French Rivera with my aforementioned Japanese wife, Akiko, or swapping out a starter motor solenoid, I'll be reaching for my socket set and practising my apologetic-bowing.

 

Given the above, it should come as little surprise that the Cavalier was soon given a thorough coat of looking at to evaluate the work required. OOO is a largely solid car but it was clearly in need of some love to stop any degradation and making it as reliable as a 37 year old motor can be. Preservation was priority, conservation and renovation could come later.

 

 

After a morning of crawling over the car, it was clear that a heavy service was first on the list - all consumables and fluids were of an unknown vintage and ripe for replacement. Small puddles of oil were appearing wherever it was parked for which needed dealing with. Additionally I was acutely aware there was seven months until it's MOT. Whilst over half of the ticket, three of those months would be the depths of winter with short days and cold temperatures. The prospect of crawling around under the the car, desperately patching it up, as the frost bite started to nibble at my extremities didn't appeal. There were three advisories on the previous MOT, all relating to light corrosion around the suspension, but I struggled to find anything beyond the lightest of surface corrosion. Perhaps the MOT'er was having a bad day or was dumped a Cavalier owning girlfriend once? Still, I vowed to address them. I couldn't see anything else too threatening from my inspection; the exhaust was heavily patched however so probably needed replacing but that really was it.

 

 

It's hard not to get tempted to by attacking some of the shiny niceties to make it look pretty. There were a couple of scabby bits of cosmetic rust at the bottom of the front wings and front cowl which can't be unseen once you know they're there. Tarting them up would be utterly satisfying. The interior was in needed in a deep-clean and the map bucket (Is that the technical term? Door pocket? Glove retainer? Stuff satchel?) on the drivers door had been cracked so needed replacing, if one could be found. The radio seemed to only be capable of farting impressions and the ariel suffered impotence issues, both would make a nice weekend project. However, all of these were non-essential. They wouldn't put the car off the road so we're not priority for now.

 

 

Somewhere deep in the future, I'd like to give it a nut-and-bolt rebuild to be the example of a porridge Cavalier. The shell will be taken back to bare metal, given an acid bath to dissolve everything nasty, receive a coat of modern rust protection and slowly mechanically rebuilt to be as fresh as the day it rolled off the Belgian production line. I've got clear vision for it - the project is undertaken in a dedicated workshop, aside my Waltham St. Lawrence cottage, where I can spend my days tinkering away whilst Akiko juggles her rewarding career in marketing for Rebellion and organising our summer trip to Kyoto to see her family. My two rescue Greyhounds offer companionship whilst I work, quietly napping in the late afternoon's sunshine. My only interruptions are to make a fresh pot of tea, light a fresh stick of incense or savour the deafening roar of Concorde's return to the sky. A man can dream, right? That's for the future though - there's many hours of enjoyment to be had first. Besides, I need to find £1.8million for the dream house. And Akiko.

 

 

Aside from changing the headlights of my Punto, I've never really waved a spanner in anger towards a car. Even the most basic of service jobs were going to be new experiences. I was prepared to learn though; after all, even the greatest engineers started somewhere. I'm sure Brunel would have taken a while to get his head around suck-squeeze-bang-blow in my position. And besides, how hard can it be? If a decent F1 team can service a car in under 2 seconds, I could manage it over a couple of weekends. To prepare for this this voyage of discovery, I started to assemble a reference library - Haynes manuals, workshop manuals, etc were all acquired for a few quid off eBay. To appease my OCD, two copies of each purchased - one tatty for workshop to be covered in grease and one pristine for studying with a glass of decent South American red. One evening a compete set of Cavalier Training Manuals came up for as a lot on eBay; I almost broke my finger as I vigorously slammed the Buy It Now button. These are the holy grail and bible rolled into one, with a sprinkling of engineering p0rn to boot - not only fully illustrated, they list ever part number, tolerance, specialist tool, thread size, measurement and fluid required to strip down and rebuild a Cavalier.

 

 

Feeling well versed, it was back to eBay to gather the required goods for the service and within an evening of light surfing I had everything I needed to get to work. I've said it before and I'll say it again; the Internet has made a project like this wonderfully straightforward. As the numerous packages arrived, it did feel I was not only preserving an old Vauxhall, but also my local postman's livelihood.

 

 

Whilst generic service parts were easily available, it became apparent that Cavalier specific spares were scarce. As I write this post, if I go to the Car Parts area of eBay, searching for 'Mk.3 Escort' delivers 35,980 results. 'Mk.2 Polo', a whopping 117,876. 'Mk.1 Cavalier' offers a meagre 862; the majority of those are standardised parts that people have taken the time to list every car ever made in the description. There were some useful bits available, mostly old shop stock of common items like head gaskets and clutch cables that have been gathering dust for the past three decades. However, there was a noticeable lack of key items could put the car off the road. If starter motors and alternators were tricky to find, my prospects of finding a replacement door pocket was rapidly diminishing! Beyond eBay, there's no real trade support for the Cavalier. No one is making any replica parts so the supply is finite to what's out there. There's a couple of folk who have formed their business by hoovering the last remaining stocks of spares worldwide but they know their niche and charge accordingly. €159 for an oil pressure switch, anyone?

 

Without parts being easily or reasonably accessible, it was clear I needed to build my own stocks when a reasonable opportunity presented itself. With this ethos, I picked up a speedo cable and clutch cable off eBay for a few quid - the pointlessness of the latter only clicked some days later. Still, useful it the Slushbox ever gives out I guess. One listing that has stood out in eBay was a set of tatty, reclaimed tail lights. At £40 each, they were expensive but they were attached to a Cavalier which was up for breaking with all parts available, a mere 25 miles from my front door in Bordon. The EBCC was summoned... a fresh adventure loomed.

 

It was a glorious August morning; as many of my peers were taking their beloveds out for Saturday morning eggs Benedict and latte by the Thames, we found ourselves clad in our worst clothes nomming a McDeath in a Halford's car park. It's an high-flying lifestyle this car stuff. In a bid to shake off the post-McMuffin come down, we went for a wander around the auto emporium searching for nothing in particular.

 

 

Wait? What?!

 

 

Unbelievably, Halford's stock the very shade that OOO is painted. Bright Copper Metallic... I had to read it a few times to be sure I was reading it correctly. Maybe it's a different colour code with the same name? Nope, A532. Jackpot! Absolute ###### jackpot! I'm completely bemused as to why they stock this; the colour was last used 35 years ago. Surely the sales it generated didn't warrant keeping it as a stock item? Who know, but I appreciated it as I hoovered up everything they had. We headed for Bordon in high spirits - I put it down to the paint revelation but in reality it was probably the McBlood Sugar was just kicking in.

 

 

This was the sight that greeted us as we pulled into the scrapyard. Poor thing. The yard owner, Pete, had said we were welcome to crawl over it and remove what we wanted as we entered the yard. YKB348W was a fairly standard 1600 manual, it's not clear when it was last on the road but it'd was well over a decade ago. Rot and damp has worked its way through it... crusty was the operative word here.

 

 

'For Banger-ing' has been sprawled across the wind screen but thankfully it had been spared such an undignified end. I don't believe the Honda Jazz hat was a factory option either. We set to work - I didn't really have a clear list of bits I wanted, aside from that map pocket...

 

 

Spot on! Wrong colour, but paint can fix that. I grabbed the radiator pipes, a few switches and other nicknacks from the interior and went to ask Pete for a price. Given he wanted £80 for a pair of tail lights, I was braced for a big ask.

 

'Tenner the lot?'

 

I'll take that. It was clear that making a deal easy for the seller lead to a good price. If you turn up as promised, remove the bits yourself, pay in cash and remove the need for eBay fees, PayPal fees and posting items; you could cut a good deal. On the drive home, conversation made it apparent that YKB348W had a lot more to give if prices were that keen.

 

The following weekend we returned to Bordon with a clear agenda - remove everything that was worth saving. Pete had kindly pushed the Jazz off during the week and we set to work at the stroke of 08:00. First target was the glass; all of it. Unlike metal work, glass is impossible to bodge if a time of need. It was in short supply too, Google yield nothing more than people making pleas for panes. The retaining rubbers cut cut through and within an hour every window was removed.

 

 

We then progressively worked out way around the car. Everything under the bonnet has already gone; save for the wiper mechanism. There was lots of trim, mouldings, knobs, dials and fittings that still had life in them - all were removed and put aside. By lunchtime, the beast was felled and an empty carcass laid bare on the concrete. There was nothing more worth saving, it was ready to be cubed.

 

 

I like this photo. It sums up the situation well - a glorious summers day, tearing an old car apart with your mates. Whilst gathering spares is practical, this was fun. Proper, boys-own fun.

 

 

We hopped in for one last 'drive'. Thanks YKB348W, you served us well. May the crusher be kind to you.

 

 

With Alton a stones throw away, we called in for a look at the Mid Hants. Several moments later a rather large NSE device turned up with a certain Griddle car in the rake. Today just kept on giving and giving! Well, it'd be rude not to? Three rover pieces were purchased and we piled on. A few beers attended to the aches and pains that a hard day of Part Scrumping had bought on. We were knackered but victorious.

 

The next morning I awoke to a house full of dirty, tired Cavalier parts. In a large breakers yard they don't look that big, that's certainly different when they're sat in your kitchen. A sense of dread loomed, what the hell do I do with all this stuff?

 

 

I'm very keen not to build up huge amounts of junk with this project - I've managed to do precisely that with my railway stuff and at some point we've all muttered how it'd be nice to get rid of it all and start again. The Cavalier adventure was a that blank canvas, I had to get into some good habits. I popped down to Tesco and bought a biblical amount of plastic bags and cream cleaner. The grand clean up began...

 

 

Taking inspiration from the HST Preservation group, with their collection of Valenta's, and the XH558 team, with their zero-hours Olympus lumps, I wanted my stash of parts to be completely ready to go. Every part would be scrubbed, sorted, cleaned, de-corroded, protected, primed, painted, repaired, refreshed, polished, lubricated, protected, bagged and tagged. Odd screws, perished rubbers, knackered electronics would all be changed. If a part was life expired, then it would be binned. There's no point holding onto tat. Each component went through the same process; taking this font bumper side mount as an example.

 

 

Fresh off the car it only seems fit for the melting pot. However, they're a hard item to find and easily bent in service. First step is to give them a soak into a vat of modern, sanitised, Vegan-friendly and slightly rubbish Nitromors to lift off any old paint.

 

 

They're then attacked with a firm wire brush to remove any crusty bits. Various grades of sanding block take care of any stubborn bits of rust that need dealings with.

 

 

Allow me to introduce VacTan, or bottled witchcraft as it's known in the Nicholls household. This milky looking liquid is a weapons grade rust treatment solution that's normally used on boats. The solution is basically a waterproof latex primer that's laced with phosphoric acid - the latter reacts with the iron oxide (er, rust) to form ferric phosphate which is comparatively stable.

 

 

Painting it into a patch of vivid orange corrosion turns the whole area into a solid black material. It never ceases to please. That said, it can lull you into a false sense of security - the solution can only react with the rust is touches so only the very top layer will be converted. Hence, it should only be used on the lightest of surface corrosion. Something like this bracket is ideal.

 

 

Good eh?

 

 

With the bracket looking a bit more hopeful it's now a case of prime...

 

 

...base coat...

 

 

...and top coat.

 

 

Et voila! Job done!

 

It may not be concours but it'll do for a bracket that's hidden by a big chrome bumper. I kept working through the other items. The wiper mechanism proved to be the most satisfying as this...

 

 

...turned into this.

 

 

And this...

 

 

...turned into this.

 

 

I appreciate it's hard to fully understand a man who's waxing lyrically about a rusty price of metal that he's squirted some paint on, but the satisfaction overhauling that pile of manky car parts was immeasurable. The joy from breathing life back into something which had, quite literally, been consigned to the scrap heap is huge. I love it. How the guys involved in the overhaul of Barry Scrapyard wrecks feel when they see their years of dedication burst back into life is beyond me, but I can wholly appreciate why XH558's ground crew wept when it barrelled down the runway again. If you have an affinity towards these things you'll know precisely what I mean. If you don't, you're probably scrubbing me off your dinner party list.

 

Within a week, everything reclaimed had been overhauled and was ready for storage. The last worldly remains of YKB 348W were neatly stored away in the largest Tupperware box known to man, ready and waiting for a rainy day.

 

 

Good fun, this 1:1 modelling stuff.

 

To be continued...

Edited November 15, 2016 by Pixie

[eldavo]

Mad Pix, absolutely mad! Exactly the qualifications needed for the job. I had a 1600L and 1900GL many years ago and they were cracking tools. Keep up the good work.

 

Cheers

Dave

[queensquare]

I have no real interest in cars, let alone Cavaliers, but yet another great read Pix.

Looking forward to meeting up at Warley for a good catch up and chin wag

 

Cheers Jerry

[BlackRat]

Best place for washing parts....... the dishwasher!

[The Fatadder]

Fantastic stuff, the bottom left of the brochure has our ones old interior, ribed red velour!

 

Looking at all these photos is making me miss my Spitfire, one day I will have enough land to have both a garage and a train room and can get a classic again....

[modfather]

I told you no good would come of an Old banger...

 

 

At least ooo is 1:152...

[Enterprisingwestern]

Best place for washing parts....... the dishwasher!

 

Indeed.

Many of my old Rover P6 parts were improved in this way.

Just make sure the household authorities are elsewhere though!

 

Mike.

[Pixie]

I have no real interest in cars

 

To be honest Jerry, and this may sound a little odd given the above; neither do I. Things like Formula 1 leave me cold and I've got no real connection with any super cars - I like the mundane, porridge motoring.

 

Fantastic stuff, the bottom left of the brochure has our ones old interior, ribed red velour!

 

Looking at all these photos is making me miss my Spitfire, one day I will have enough land to have both a garage and a train room and can get a classic again....

 

What happened to the Spitfire in the end? I seem to recall it was mid-rewire wasn't it?

 

I used to have a blue GLS 2000 saloon with the vinyl roof in the early 1980's and did a lot of miles across europe. I was working near Munchen Gladbach when one of the brake calipers locked on solid. Considering it was built in Belgium, I could not get a replacement part. In the end, my boss brought one from the UK in his hand luggage when he came over for a regular meeting.

 

That surprises me Ian; most of the running gear would have been the same as the Ascona or Manta so I'm surprised a friendly Opel dealer couldn't of sourced it.

 

Cheers,

Pix

[The Fatadder]

.

 

What happened to the Spitfire in the end? I seem to recall it was mid-rewire wasn't it?

 

Cheers,

Pix

Used it to drive to the church for my wedding, then didn't touch it got a year before eventually selling. Just didn't make sense having it and not using it (given it was stored in Devon.)

The fact that I couldn't get Evie in there made it even less likely to be used.

 

I now quite fancy buying a Stag, though it won't happen until we have a double garage.....

[2mmMark]

I think you're wise to hoover up all the parts you can from the scrapper. The guvnor at my regular car MOT place is a fan of Mk1 & Mk2 Escorts and the prices he's had to pay for things like new wings are eyewatering.

 

Vactan looks useful. I use a similar chemical called Fertan, which I found when looking for coach enamel.  I'll have to compare the prices. Fertan is a touch expensive.

 

I would also recommend ACF50 which is an excellent preservative for bare metals. It'll be good to use on parts like the wiper mechs and brake lines. It's also die-electric so you can use it

on the wiring connectors. Just put some onto some rag and wipe it on. 

 

You'll find that compared to a modern car, the Cavalier will be delightfully simple to service and maintain.

 

I'm thankful that I'm into bikes rather than cars. The ones I'm interested in tend to suffer much less from rust than cars although keeping my Russian sidecar in good fettle is a bit like working on old car bodywork but the Fertan is doing a good job.

Once the house extension is finished, the next project is to unearth my two Laverda 750s and get those back on the road. One already qualifies for Historic (i.e. nil!) VED and next year, the other will. The DVLA are consulting on dropping the MOT requirement for vehicles over 40 years old. Currently, pre-1960 vehicles are MOT exempt.

 

As I understand it, the Cav will be nil VED eligible in 2020 so not long to wait.

 

I love Vauxhall's "feature" list for the car. It's almost as if they're saying "...and it comes with a wheel at each corner..."

 

Mark

Edited November 19, 2016 by 2mmMark

[2mmMark]

OOO!

[2mmMark]

And hopefully, the Cav won't drive you "loco"

 

[CF MRC]

Nothing wrong with OOO Pix & Mark! One of our A4s started off as one.

Our first new car when married was an Opel Kadette of slightly later vintage: it had Starsky & Hutch stripes. If you listened carefully you could hear it rusting. I fitted a motorised aerial to the car: unfortunately, when driving to Wembley round the N Circular to deliver the tube station building to the MEE competition, one very wet evening in January 1985, I turned it on. It had a super erection and shot over the top of the car - couldn't/didn't stop to pick it up. After that, the car ran with a London aerial (clothes hanger). Another time, I had been out one evening giving a lecture and was about to drive back to a colleague's house from the venue car park. We got in the car and once we started moving noticed that it was very cold. Some bu99er had cut out the windscreen! I agree with Mark that ACF50 is your friend.

 

Like you, I have never been a car person, but six months ago succumbed to one of these:

 

Obvious where the picture was taken, with Mark on the left and Tom Knapp on the right. Mr Toad on the road! Great fun - don't need many excuses to go out in it...

 

Tim

[queensquare]

Nothing wrong with OOO Pix & Mark! One of our A4s started off as one.

Our first new car when married was an Opel Kadette of slightly later vintage: it had Starsky & Hutch stripes. If you listened carefully you could hear it rusting. I fitted a motorised aerial to the car: unfortunately, when driving to Wembley round the N Circular to deliver the tube station building to the MEE competition, one very wet evening in January 1985, I turned it on. It had a super erection and shot over the top of the car - couldn't/didn't stop to pick it up. After that, the car ran with a London aerial (clothes hanger). Another time, I had been out one evening giving a lecture and was about to drive back to a colleague's house from the venue car park. We got in the car and once we started moving noticed that it was very cold. Some bu99er had cut out the windscreen! I agree with Mark that ACF50 is your friend.

 

Like you, I have never been a car person, but six months ago succumbed to one of these:

 

 

Obvious where the picture was taken, with Mark on the left and Tom Knapp on the right. Mr Toad on the road! Great fun - don't need many excuses to go out in it...

 

Tim

 

That one cant claim to have a wheel in each corner!!

 

Jerry

[CF MRC]

Three corners?

 

Tim