I’ve written a few words for the Sphinx magazine. It might be a bit long for a post - apologies, but here’s a preview for those of you who like an old yarn:
Sir Siddeley’s new suit for the Centenary Rally
A deadline which comes round once every hundred years was exactly what I needed to sort out the shabby paintwork and shaky body on our 1952 Hurricane OTE 985. We’ve proven his reliability with a family adventure to Spain, but he had now reached the point aesthetically where patina had become neglect - it was time for a new suit and a quieter retirement.
The first task was for me to spend hours removing the old paint – he had been painted Jaguar Signal Grey in the seventies and a dark green at sometime before that. Beneath the layers and sandwiched between the wings, which had never previously been off, was the factory applied grey colour.
On 21 May 2019, I took him from our house in Cardigan on a trailer to my friend Craig’s workshop on the edge of the Preseli Hills and we began to realise the enormity of the task ahead. The major horrors were the sills and wings. The lesser horrors were the wobbly sides, doors and a broken engine mount. Craig was kept very busy fabricating and welding. His usual fare is repairing and creating extremely rapid rally cars, where every second counts. He is well known in these parts for being a perfectionist when it comes to petrol powered vehicles. Siddeley was in good hands.
The 14 July deadline loomed large and there were many days when it seemed impossible to meet it. Craig, however, had the plan in his head and the skills and dedication to make it happen. A week before the event, he also had to contend with me “helping” alongside him. My mechanical skills are minimal, but it soon became apparent that what we were doing was the motoring equivalent of my day job – conserving old buildings using traditional methods and materials. The decisions were similar – how much to record and discard? How much to repair or replace? What was it really like originally and can the horrors of the past be avoided with better solutions? I think we both enjoyed the process and the debate, but I could see that there were still some very late nights ahead.
The second week of July is now a bit of a blur. On a diet of tea and apples, the amount of work Craig got through was inspiring. Each new problem became a challenge well met. With hindsight, I now realise that the trial fitting of all the components was time very well spent. Getting the doors, boot lid and bonnet to fit beautifully took time and patience, but we then knew that, after painting, it would all go back together in a tidy fashion. The key to the finish on the body was the preparation. Talking with one of Craig’s friends, I remarked that he could see things other human beings could not, but the truth is, most of the finish relies on his fingers feeling the way the panels should be.
Every now and then, we went the extra mile. We had considered leaving the grill – a job for those long winter nights perhaps? It was clear though, that not only would it let the job down, it would mean the bonnet might not fit properly. We set to it, ordered some 2BA screws, straightened the bars, re-soldered the broken ones and cracked open the Autosol.
The blue hood had been replaced in the seventies, was tiredand lacked the rear window. I contacted an upholsterer friend who agreed to help make a new hood. Another order arrived from Woolies Trim and Gregg and I set about replacing the hood. I made a rear window from an old 346 numberplatesurround, some acrylic sheet and stainless steel nuts and bolts. This is smaller than the real thing, so if I ever discover an original window, I will be able to swap them over. [Is there anyone out there with one for sale?]
I think Gregg and I were overambitious with the hood – we had just a day and a half – and we made a couple of errors which we will be putting right soon. Still, I think it looks splendid and it works as it should.
The last of the painting – the front wings - was completed on the afternoon of Friday 12 July. Reassembly began thereafter. Craig made a few phone calls and astonishingly, the workshop started to fill with his friends – all Petrol-heads who gave up their free time to help their friend complete the job in time for the Centenary Rally. Friday night was just like a scene from a medical drama, with Siddeley as the patient, being attended to by surgeons and nurses. Everyone went about their tasks with enthusiasm and good humour – fuelled by adrenaline. With the patient stable, we retired at 2am and reconvened at 8am. I was due to leave at 10am – my wife’s friends were expecting us in Sutton Coldfield that afternoon.
By 11am, it was becoming apparent that we would be late. I called Zoë to explain, but 11 year old Louis answered her phone. “Where are you?”, I enquired. “Aberystwyth” camethe reply. Quite rightly, they had decided to press on without me.
Craig; “Have you packed?” “Yes, thankfully I have.” I replied. “Oh well, I guess you’ll find your clothes thrown all over the garden,” he quipped.
We pressed on. The front wings were fitted and the bright-work reinstalled. Trouble was, the headlights were anything but bright. As it was becomingly increasingly obvious that I’d be driving through Birmingham in the dark, we struggled to get them working. At 8pm, they waved me on my way.
For the first time in 6 years, I understood the saying as silent as a Sphinx. It was a revelation – no crashes and bangs over bumps, no creaks and groans. The drive across mid-Wales was exquisite – the sun setting to my left and a fantastic full moon to my right. Siddeley raced along happily.
That is, until we almost reached the M54 at around 11.30pm. He missed a beat and so I pulled straight into a lay-by and turned off the ignition. Tried the starter button. Nothing. The lights were still shining, but rather dimly. It was now very dark and getting colder. I put the new roof up and called the RAC, to be told that there’d be a 45 minute wait. Not so bad,I thought –might get there before 1am. Sent a text to Zoë. “Poor you, stay safe. We’ll wait up,” came the reply. Perhaps the ice was thawing?
A recovery lorry arrived at 2.45am. The nice chap took great care loading Siddeley onto his flatbed, commenting that it was a lot easier to tie down than the old fifties Bentley he’d recovered the week before. I asked him to check the battery with his tester. Dead. I was relieved and hopeful that we might still make it to the Rally. Arrived in Sutton Coldfield at 4am. The ice had melted and they all felt sorry for me.
A new battery fitted in the morning and off to Coventry. It was quite a moving moment, arriving in his birthplace after such an adventure.
What a great turn-out and what a thrill to see so many of his relatives. The Armstrong Siddeley clubs from all over the word had turned out for this unique family celebration. It was all over far too quickly, but crowned with the Lancaster flypast – I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with a tear in his eye.
The journey home was far less eventful and just a delight. I thought we had made incredible progress when I looked at my watch as the sun set over Cardigan Bay. My watch had stopped at 8pm, as I’d forgotten to wind it. Zoe, Louis and Jody were all in bed.
Special thanks must go to Craig, all his friends, Gregg and all our families for putting up with us. An extra thank you to my father, William, for whom sadly the Rally was a trip too far to take in one day. He welcomed us home. I think it took him 10 years to restore his 346 - registered RGO 939 (where is it now?). But then again, he didn’t have a deadline...
Chris Wright
Brynymôr House
Cardigan
Home sweet home:
