Doesn’t it just look… angry?

Plenty of cars have faces. Some are cross-eyed, some look confused (I’m looking at you, every Citroen before 1986), and some look genuinely excited to be on the road (every Mini). The most obvious example brought up is frequently the eternally-happy Austin Healey Sprite, but a lot of modern cars are made (factory or by hacking about with fibreglass) to look rather mean. This isn’t a new thing though, as various manufacturers proved in the 50s/60s, such as this wonderful Triumph Vitesse that’s temporarily (ie: until post-COVID times) gracing my driveway.

Obligatory GB magnet and creeping moss in evidence

This particular one had sat for a while, but once all the birds nests had been removed and the various seized things unseized, it actually runs rather nicely – but it still looks angry. What’s non-obvious from this angle is how small it is though – as a four-seater car, it’s not really wider than a proper Mini and is absolutely dwarfed by anything modern.

However, this one does have a few surprises. First of these is that it actually started, despite having arrived here with ten year old petrol in it. Secondly, it’s the rather rarer 2 litre mk1 model, with the 4-speed overdrive box. It does not have a 2 litre engine; some wag in the past has fitted the loud bits out of a 2500TC to it, along with a rather fruity exhaust. Unfortunately, it’s got the original Vitesse differential, which I don’t imagine will have a terribly long lifespan if all that torque is used that often. It is also rather front-heavy though, which will be interesting with that famously-stable rear suspension….

…alive inside this chrome…

This is a shiny thing. It’s the front of a Rover P6 – in this case, a 1967 P6 2000SC.. in other words, the slowest possible configuration of the car. Take a fantastic-if-unrefined 2 litre 4cyl engine, remove one of its carbs, and throw an autobox behind it.. and you’re never going to win the RAC Rally.

However, what we’re interested in is the shininess. Sixties Rovers were always a bit like driving around in a gentlemens’ club, but the P6 had an interesting combination of chrome, wood, leather, and fake plastic.

IMAG0897

This is an ICELERT. Its badly-spelled name tells you exactly what it is – it’s a big round shiny thing that lights the dashboard up when there’s ice on the road. More modern cars have sensors, alerts, buzzers, and all sorts of fancy electronics to make sure driving like an idiot doesn’t necessarily end in you crashing.

However, for the Rover driver – a small red light is plenty good enough. Rover assumed that concentrating on the road in sub-optimal conditions was far more important than surrounding the driver with gizmos. It actually works perfectly too.

The one tiny flaw? The “icelert light” is on the PASSENGER SIDE of the car!

…and the Rover is no more.

The SD1 started its journey to its new owner in Georgia this morning. It’s been an interesting ride with this car – over the last three years I’ve learned more about Lucas EFI than I ever thought possible, as well as grown to appreciate just what Rover were trying to do with SD1. It’s a huge shame they were initially dogged with so many issues here in the US, as the straight-six versions doubtless would’ve sold very well into the 1980s.

Much has been written about the SD1 in the USA, and why it failed. Rover was a one-model range at the time, and – in Europe – completed a gap in Triumph’s lineup after the withdrawal of the 2000/2500. Had the planned Lynx ever actually been produced, it and the SD1 would’ve made a rather nice range.. together with the “new” Triumph 1500. Even the Rover 213/216 would’ve probably sold well over here, as is evidenced by the visibility today of their Honda brethren.

It was my daily driver for a while, and – as well as proving it’s possibly to run a thirty year old British car on a daily commute – it still managed to average nearly 30mpg. It’s been to a few shows, confused a lot of people (‘what kind of Chevy/Pontiac/Ferrari is that?’), and been surprisingly reliable. It only broke down on me once, which was a) in the driveway so it doesn’t really count, and b) is because I ran out of fuel ‘cuz the fuel sender didn’t initially work. The kids also loved the fact that it was a little bit special and – for a British car – pretty big and comfy inside. It even did the school run a few times, during which there were occasional complaints about its fundamental brown-ness.

…but on it must go. It’s going to someone who knows exactly what it is, and will hopefully appreciate it as much as I do. It’s been replaced in the “fleet” here by a Rover P6, which is a whole different animal… but more on that another time.

Ugliest headlights ever.. entry #22

This is a(nother) 1980 Rover SD1 3500. For some reason, I keep ending up with them.. this is my third.

Don't my headlights look fantastic?

 

This one lived in Salem before I got my grubby mitts on it, and spent a while sitting in a field. Unlike the other SD1 I had a couple of years ago, this one is a NAS model and is totally stock.. hence the slightly cross-eyed front end and the correct wheels. It’s also been oddly resprayed in its original colour of Platinum (oh really, British Leyland?), but fortunately still has the original awesome two-tone brown velour interior.

It had the usual electrical gremlins, which required a bunch of relays, a Jaguar XJ6 fuel pump, and lots of swearing. It now drives and stops when it’s supposed to, and doesn’t seem over-inclined to catching fire.  So far, it’s only moved around the driveway and back, but as it’s got a bizarre custom exhaust system it sounds a bit.. well.. frisky.

It also doesn’t seem to overheat. For now.

Look at that velour porn.

 

Once bitten…

I’ve had six Triumph Stags now. I currently have three, and none of them are driveable. I haven’t driven one (legally) on the road since 2004. They are a nightmare from every single conceivable angle, and any sane person would run a mile from them.

However, last week I did this.

 

I don't really like wire wheels either.

This is a ’71 Stag. It’s supposed to be Carmine Red, but some genius has had it resprayed in a hideous pink/red metallic flip, and then sanded a bunch of it down where the paint guy took a tea break. It’s got its original drivetrain, the interior is fairly good, and the soft top hasn’t seen an erection since 1981.

Unfortunately, seeing as it’s got its original drivetrain, it doesn’t run right. It would barely cough and wheeze its way onto a trailer last month, and the previous “owner” had a bunch of head work done in order to fix a problem that’s nothing to do with the head. Fortunately, I no longer have to worry about burnt exhaust valves – instead, I have to deal with a blown water pump graphite seal, different height head gaskets, a badly-skimmed inlet manifold, and a front choke secured with zip ties.. and that’s before I get to any of the obstacles British Leyland or Lucas put in the way of being the world’s best car.

Clarkson has a point. The Triumph v8 is a total dog of an engine. Sure, in running order, it’s fantastic.. and to some extent, the problems are well understood and fixes are available.. but for most people, ripping the damn thing out and stuffing a small block Chevy in there is the obvious option. Ignoring the enormous weight difference, it is far simpler to work on.

The more obvious global fix is the Rover v8 – which probably should’ve been in there in the first place – and sheer pigheadedness is what prevented it from being in there in the first place. Go British Leyland, eh.

When it’s 90F outside…

Remember that Stag from a few posts down, and a few weeks ago? Well, this is what it looks like now:

OK, so that’s not exactly a great deal different… but under that California-faded paint is a good paint job struggling to get through. It also belies the amount of work that’s gone on under the hood – and under the car, as it happens.

This one is right hand drive (as is given away by the steering wheel being on the correct side and the British license plate, duh) and has a Rover v8 conversion. The engine conversion is actually pretty good – it’s still got the Triumph 4-speed o/d box mounted – but the ancilliaries could’ve been done better by a five year old. All fixed now.. well, as best as I can fix it, anyway.. and aside from spongy brakes and no choke cable it’s almost ready to hit the road again.

Why we take batteries out before storing

This is what happens if you take a 1971 Stag, drive it until 1978 when the engine gives up, and then store it until 2007. You will of course remember to carefully drain and replace all the fluids, seal the interior, and cover the car correctly. What you will forget is to remove the original British Leyland battery, which over the next 29 years will disintegrate, filling your front valance with battery acid.. which in turn will disintegrate, taking the entire battery box, half the radiator, the fan, and most of the front bumper with it.

The world of Right Hand Drive

See how flat that back tyre is? This car last moved in 2002.

This is a 1970 Triumph Stag. It was owned by a stupid person in the Bay Area. It’s now sitting in my driveway, close enough to be mine but far enough away that it won’t start (another) fire when I start it.

It’s got a Rover v8 mated to the original 4-speed o/d box, and has a hole in the gas tank big enough to put your arm through. It also uses more oil than fuel, but it’s right hand drive, yellow, and mine.

Also, notice how the doors don’t fit right? They’re original – as proved by the reams of photos and receipts that came with it – but they are composed almost entirely of rust and filler. That’s OK, because the car came with four new doors (yes, it’s a two door with six doors), but I have one honeysuckle door, one french blue door, one mallard blue door, and one green door now. Aren’t I lucky?

If I wasn’t sure before…

…I think 50% of Oregon’s Sterlings now live in my barn. I found this little beauty on CL a couple of weeks ago:

Given the “rippling” around the driver’s door panel, there’s obviously a story behind this one.. and a story it is. It was hit in the side several years ago, and given the value of the average Sterling in the US, it wasn’t worth fixing – so a minor panel-beating with a hammer and it was back on the road. Last month, that came to an abrupt end when the radiator sprang a leak, emptying coolant all over Clackamas County by all accounts. Given that a replacement radiator costs upwards of $400, the car sat where it was, radiatorless and full of hay (yes, really).

It’s a 1990 827SL in Steel Grey with a grey leather interior. It’s *never* had any sort of dash lift, and the electrics all actually seem to work.. which is a minor miracle.. as is the complete lack of any evidence of leaks. It took a little coaxing to get it going.. but it does seem to run pretty nice, and yes – the radiator is toast.

I wanted it for the wheels – my 827SLi should have those wheels – but if I can round up a cheap door and front wing from somewhere, I’ll fix it up and keep another cheap Sterling on the road for a while longer. It’s only got 130k on it; it’s barely run-in!