Stop moaning you old buggers! You're as young as the woman you feel. Isn't that right Woody?
Stop moaning you old buggers! You're as young as the woman you feel. Isn't that right Woody?
Give it a year or two and the Urine will arrive with out an invitation,Diaper time then.
Long past time diaper/nappy time!
Come on guys, can we please give this a rest and get back to some real input?
What he saidOriginally Posted by Oldfart
Shutter Speed
By Max Le Grand, taken from a book called “International Motor Racing Book 3”
I was standing around the forth row of the grid just before the french Grand Prix at Rouen
Les-Essarts in 1962. My mind was fixed on a picture I had been assigned to get of a Grand Prixgrid from a drivers eye-view just before the flag is dropped to start the race.
From the corner of my right eye I had spotted a one minute signal board raised which struck me as being ample time to get my shot and make haste from the high-revving machinery.
The grid was almost clearof officials and mechanics. My camera was composed. I had taken a correct light-reading, nothing could go wrong. But this was my first ever French Grand Prix, and I was not familiar with the starting proceedureof “Toto Roche”who, I learnt that, that at that very momentis an unpredictable man.
Itook the picture three times to cover myself adequatly and was moving to the rear of the grid in backward steps. I sawthe 30 second signal flashabove the heads of the crowd along the grid side. My steps briskened, then suddenly all hell let loose, the tri-colour fell, there was a giant cloud of dust and rubber smokeand the grid was roaring off with me standing in the middle.
By reflex action or plain fright I don't know which, I took another shot as the cars rushed from around me.Richie Ginther in a BRW was left behind, he was another obsticlefor the drivers to miss and from the confusion I reeled at the thought of having survived and made a quick dash for the side of the road.
Almost imediatlyI was decended apon by three gendarmes who ruffled me up, one screwed my armbehind my back while another took my camera and the third stripped me of my credentials.They marched me the full length of the pit lanein front of everybody, I was furious, throwing my one free arm about and shouting oaths. Familiar faces stood out from the sea of onlookers. I spotted Denis Jenkinson of “Motor Sport” nodding his head as if to say”You Naughty Boy”
Some people laughed, while others egged me on with my struggle. A few even tried to help. Atlast I realised the futility of my struggle and I marched toward the blue paddy wagonwhere the biggest slanging matchof my life took place. At last an English speaking officialturned up. I opologized to him profusely and explained to him, I had to fulfil my assignment. He explained this to the gend- armes and they begrudgingly let me free.
Such are the hazards of a motor racing photographer, I must confess though, during 1962 I was
pretty new and over enthusiastic. Today ( the book was published 1969/1970) I know where to tread carefully so as to keep my nose clean with the law. The battle between motor sporting photographers and the police has been waged a good many years. We know they have a job to do, but so do we. Agood photographer will go to great lengths to get his material, in some cases making a calculated risk of life and limb in doing so. This doesn't make us foolhardy, because those of us who attend race meetings regularly know almost as much about the risks of the sport as the drivers. We respect their skill and they respect our judgement. It is true to say a close harmony exists etweenGrand Prix drivers and top photographers. I often talk to drivers during practice periods about certain spots and the strong liklyhood of accidents happening in the area where I might stand. If they advise me to move to a safer position I head their remark, for then I know if I want that shot badly enough I have the choice of taking a risk and knowing what might happen.
On some dangerous spots at circuits I reach a happy compromise.
Last edited by markec; 07-09-2012 at 03:38 AM. Reason: typing mistake
Good old Yards and Yarns has languished on page 3 for far too long.
On page 5 of Y & Y post 92, I regailed a storey about the 8 mile chase. It was the storey of a pursuit, late one evening between a MK3 Ford Zephyr and an XK120C.......the one in the picture. The person driving the Ford was a Cop, and the driver of the XK was me.....you can read all about it if you want.
The XK had quite a history. It is the only NZ new drophead still in existence, and now resides in Australia. Chassis No
667206 was despatched to ChCh Jaguar agent, Archibalds on 2 march 1954, and among other illustrious owners David Young, racing driver from Timaru was one of them. He traded the car on a C type race car, and it eventually ending up at Des Wilds Motor Emporiam where I purchased it in 1964 for the grand sum of 625 pounds.
Is one of those cars which we have all had and said 'I shouldnt have sold it', but all sorts of things happen in our lives that such promises can never be kept. I used it as an everyday car on the farm, did my courting in it, and eventually sold it because quite frankly it was not the most suitable car for a young bride/mother to go to the shops in.
I had a great deal of difficulty selling it in 1967 because in every ones eyes, it was just a worn out old and troublesome British sports car. I eventually got 500 pounds for it, and the turkey that bought it robbed all the good bits of it and sold it on. A later owner managed to trace most of the performance equipment and reunite it with the car.
Incidentally I bought a 1966 Morris 1100 with the proceeds!!!!!!!
I recently read Rod Coleman's book The Colemans, a must-read for anyone who is interested in NZ's motorcycle history. One of the things I learned was that Paul Fahey started out on motorycles and typically, was a very handy rider.
But there was a passage in there that astonished me. It is a testament to the toughness and tenacity of our original motor racing enthusiasts. To me, the stories in this forum often show that these attitudes were still alive well into the 70s, maybe further.
I wonder whether this is still the case. It's a very different sport now, compared with those early days....
I offer the following (and sorry about the length) which is from the book and is a story told by Len Perry, one of this country's greatest ever motorcycle riders.
It's called My Toughest Days and highlights how hard these old roosters were.
It starts with the New Zealand TT, which like the Isle of Man was held on the Island of Waiheke. Len was riding a Velocette KTT in the lead when he was knocked over a bank by another rider he was overtaking. When he stopped he had lost his right footrest, as well as all the springs in the seat – he rejoined the race and did the last 15 laps sitting on the steel seat mounting tube. He finished the race “minus a great deal of skin on the parts where you sit.”
After the race he immediately returned to Auckland by ferry and started preparing his bike for the NZ Lightweight Grass Track Championships at Awapuni Racecourse, New Plymouth, the next day. (Even with modern vehicles and roads, this would be a difficult journey.)
He stripped the bike, removed the brakes, converted the motor to alcohol, and loaded up his old International Chevy at 2.30am. He picked up a couple of mates and away they went. About half way there they Chevy’s head gasket blew but they struggled all the way there – arriving too late to do any practise.
He was leading the race when his back tyre failed and he mowed down 35ft of the horse track’s inside railing, including the last post which he took out with his body. “I lay very quiet, as I was not too sure what was broken.”
The doctor found nothing broken but admired the huge post-shaped bruise across his legs and stomach - so Perry returned to the track. The other riders thought they were seeing a ghost, they were sure he had died. What was left of his Velo was about 3ft long.
They loaded it into the Chev and got permission to replace the headgasket at the local Chev dealers. While working on the engine he passed out across the mudguard and woke up freezing cold in the early hours of the morning, finding that he was locked inside the workshop.
They headed for Auckland in heavy rain and as they went up a steep, mud and gravel hill section they were pushed off the road by an out of control car coming down, rolling three times before coming to a rest against two trees that had saved them from a further 70ft drop into the river.
They couldn’t climb back up the cliff and had to be rescued by being hauled up with a rope. A tow truck hauled the Chev up using a three-part purchase around a tree and a log scarfed into a drain.
The Chev’s roof was smashed in but it still ran, so, filling it with gas, they again set off to Auckland, huddled in the truck and lashed by the freezing rain, driving through the night.
“I carried on to my work. When my boss saw my smashed up car, rain stained face and bloodshot eyes he said go home before you fall down. Perry slept for 12 hours straight. The only other sleep he’d had was when he passed out on the Chev’s guard as he replaced the head gasket....
Last edited by Shano; 11-28-2012 at 06:47 AM.
Another yarn featuring Len and one of his great rivals from those days, Dixie Dean (father of latter-day roadracer Robbie).
http://www.maddixpark.co.nz/articles...t-waiheke.html
Ok, it's bike racing, but racers of both codes in those days were hard buggers, and often raced on the same programme anyway...
Read on another photo thread about the Datsun 180B-based OSCA(?) saloon built by Kelvin Cameron, in which he was fatally injured in a testing accident at Ruapuna. Kelvin ran a car yard in Ferry Road in Christchurch, and specialized in sports and performance cars. He had a minor disability - from memory I think he contracted polio as a child - and walked with a noticeable limp, but he didn't let that slow him down. Hell no. He was bloody fast but always drove with a ferocious determination and what appeared to be a cavalier disregard for his own mortality.
Anyway, in 1972 i was driving a 1962 MG Midget, drum brakes, puny 948cc engine etc. I hankered after a more modern Midget and eventually a 1970 MkIII came up for sale; 1275 engine, disc brakes BRG, wires, folding hood etc. I had to have it. Having committed myself, I then had to sell the MkI, and having failed to find a buyer privately, ended up at Kelvin's yard. He insisted on taking it for a test drive, and tore out of the yard and took off up Ferry Road, valve-bouncing in every gear! Five minutes later he was back, silly grin on his face, the car virtually panting with exertion and probably a little excitement too. "Not a bad little car" he opined. "How much do you reckon it's worth?" I mentioned my price. From memory it was $1300. "Pretty fair", he ventured. My heart leapt. "The gearbox is noisy in first though. I'll have to rebuild it for resale, which will be about $150. How about $1150?" My heart sank, but of course with little realistic alternative I ended up taking it.
Only years (and years!) later did I realize that the Midget has a straight-cut first gear and that ALL Midgets are noisy in first. Wonder how many ignorant punters have been taken in by that one over the years! Only heard about Kelvin's accident many years after the event but was saddened nonetheless. RIP Kelvin Cameron.
Art Markus
What someone with more time then me should do is sit down with some of the older Northland Car Club members and do a "article" on some of Neil Johns' exploits.
A few years ago, while I was editing the NCC club mag, I went through some of the older club mags and pulled out paragraphs which related to what Johnsy had (or hadn't...) done and put them together as an 8 page unauthorised biography.
I then thought that I should personally deliver his copy of the mag. That was alright - he spent half an hour or so reading it, laughing, and denying stories alternately.
He then asked me if I had my gumboots, and he smiled when I made the mistake of answering yes....I was then volunteered to assist him with clearing a section which he had a house going on! I should have run and hid while I had the oppotunity....
Anyway he offered me dinner afterwards, so I guess I came out ahead.
Half of the stories I think related to him being late for something or another.....which reminds me of the other year when one of our life members died, yes, Johnsy came to the funeral......he got there late of course! But he had an excuse - the plane was late...
Mr Johns and the 'infamous' jinker towed behind his car was a common site on the North Island roads in the 70s and 80s, now that jinker could tell a few stories heading south empty and back up north with another one lady owner car.
He was a common visiter to RotorSport in Wairau Rd and other workshops along the way, did not realize Neil had a time schedule.
Malcolm, Did he tell you the story about driving a tractor back home from somewhere around Hamilton or should we leave that tale in the Auckland university capping mag
Rod, when I was up north Johnsy's timetable was somthing like this, win a tender for a damaged car that was still closed to mobile and get it back to Whangarei where a few of us would undertake the repairs required for him to have it advertised for sale next weekend as a damaged but repairable car, has a brand new WOF.
It worked out pretty good as it supplied much of the funds we all needed to go rallying.
I never knew Neil to be early for anything or for that matter to be close on time but man he sure could make driving a motor car on loose surfaces look easy
Bry this I would say was an exact of Denny........ I did not know him that well but meet him through Dad ....... I would say Ernie would be a clone of Denny [not a world champ though lol] BUT same nature did not clown about or suffer fools at all & really disliked people wanting to talk about what was etc etc got a little embarrassing at times I wanted to hide....... I ended up though being quite close to one of Dennie' s best freinds , his name is Pete & lives in Tauranga, Pete is a real easy going down to earth guy so I can imagine & relate why these two were close mates & confided in each other , Pete also being shy sometimes people need relaxed people around them to be grounded , & not the whaa whaa whaas... & would be s if could be s .. fantastic article thanks mate
Too easy, Kiwi 285, and for me made even worse as I live across the ditch, near a Beach that does not have a Maori name, fishing is good, motoring is OK, lots of interesting cars on this island, but they don't always get the Kiwi Humour, that " Bugger " word was a Toyota masterpiece and when they used it in an ad in " the Lucky Country ", they were not happy, Oh well, shall we all move on, get driving and faster.. like this
Seen before but this car - well sort of, a early 1930 BSA saloon, with front wheel drive, heavily modified, in the 1950's, cut the front and rear parts of the chassis and suspension, fitted twin tube central chassis, then in this case took the four cylinder BSA out about 950cc and fitted a sidevalve Ford, back to front to mate with the gearbox / transaxle [ a word no one used in the 50's.. ] I drove this at Pukekohe on a Sprint Day for VCC crash gearbox, the works.
Think that it could be a new thread about the BSA.
I always thought they had a "V" twin, as in Ralph Watsons car.Too easy, Kiwi 285, and for me made even worse as I live across the ditch, near a Beach that does not have a Maori name, fishing is good, motoring is OK, lots of interesting cars on this island, but they don't always get the Kiwi Humour, that " Bugger " word was a Toyota masterpiece and when they used it in an ad in " the Lucky Country ", they were not happy, Oh well, shall we all move on, get driving and faster.. like this
Seen before but this car - well sort of, a early 1930 BSA saloon, with front wheel drive, heavily modified, in the 1950's, cut the front and rear parts of the chassis and suspension, fitted twin tube central chassis, then in this case took the four cylinder BSA out about 950cc and fitted a sidevalve Ford, back to front to mate with the gearbox / transaxle [ a word no one used in the 50's.. ] I drove this at Pukekohe on a Sprint Day for VCC crash gearbox, the works.
Think that it could be a new thread about the BSA.
Kevin, most of the three wheelers did, but BSA did 4 wheel, 4 seater saloons too !!, and this was adapted from one of them.
Lyle Chambers [ member of Waitemata branch of Vintage Car Club at one stage ] the guy that owned intended to restore it, but still as a Special, as had been like that since the 1950's was going to put a better body on.
It was a hard thing to drive. I once was asked to take it for a WOF, [ Roadworthy to the Australians in the group ] and drove it in to a local WOF tester, a garage not a tesing station, the mechanic took one and refused to drive it, so had to do the brake test. It had front brakes and the handbrake worked on a driveshaft, so when I did the footbrake test pulled the handbrake as well, it passed.
Unfortunately have lost contact with Lyle, so if anyone on TRS comes across him - got involved in Motorcycles and I think Classic Bike racing in NZ, please send me a Private Message. I have a few photos of the car, the above one is from BMC BOY, Ross Cammick the others I have are my own.
This thread could provide an opportunity to park probably useless write up I prepared some time ago for another forum, as it will have to be split into two parts. For what it is worth. ---
Part 1. --- Vintage Fiat 509 Special
Shortly after WW2, having secured a drivers license at the age of 15 years, an absolutely burning desire to own a sports car and to do some motor racing became an obsession. My sport had been competitive cycle racing and prior to school I was well into a Meccano sets and later building radios and electrical stuff. Sport and technology therefore ran hand in hand.
A bike ride out to an amateur motor race meeting held at a disused wartime airfield, really set my brain on fire. By hook or by crook I would acquire a suitable car. I could feel the wind in my hair and the feel of an engine in place of handlebars and peddles. It was rather odd that motorcycles never tickled my fancy.
I had picked up a book “Specials” by john Bolster of “Bloody Mary” fame and also a sports car magazine had appeared describing an interesting Ford Ten Special, cheaply built close by. Cycle racing was out and racing sports cars was in.
The theme in those days involving a special was dictated by an absolute scarcity of funds and the lack of obtainable new components. Of necessity, things had to be kept simple. Personally my tool kit was meagre not even a socket set. Only tube spanners scrounged from car tool kits and only a single Crescent and old right angle shifters were on hand. A power tool was a dream. I swapped a record playing amplifier which I had built, for a few extra hand tools and this helped a bit. What I did have, was an eggbeater hand drill, a carpenters brace and a few drill bits, plus a hacksaw.
A couple of specials had been built locally using a suitable available chassis fitted with a Ford Ten engine and these were leaving the only sports car then on hand for dust. The pre-war models, including the MG B brigade were well and truly out gunned on a power to weight basis. After selling a couple of racing push bikes I had one hundred pounds odd. My head and heart were pounding, but what could I do?
I had read all the classic stuff about overhead cams, hemispherical combustion chambers, inlet and exhaust systems etc. A Ford Ten engine was beyond my pocket and what's more did not appeal. Kept searching the papers. Fiat 509, 1927, two seat tourer, not running, unregistered, good for parts, price sixty five pounds.
Looked up the specs. Overhead cam, close to the 11,000 cc class limit. Very pretty little engine with not an external drive in sight. The generator was driven from the front of the crankshaft and the fan directly from the single overhead camshaft. I was a gonna. Could not hold myself back.
Dragged it home. Dad's car remained outside for a few days while I tore off the body an sent it to the tip. Dad complained, found space at a friends house. His dad complained. Moved it to my grandmothers small garage some mile and a bit from home. Discovered that the wheels were for beaded edge tyres, bugger. Cycled there and back at every opportunity.
Pulled the old girl to pieces, stood and looked at the bits rather soulfully, but never the less hopefully. What had I done? Ouch! No power to the shed but at home I had a length of telephone cable from a war assets radio I had acquired. Naughty but practical. No bench or vice. First off I cleaned and painted the chassis, all the time with grandiose thoughts propelling me forwards. Would have liked to shorten the wheelbase, but that was not on.
My head spun and my thoughts full-time were devoted to my racing sports car. I frequented a wreckers yard operated by quite a character “Merv. Hardy” and his helper “Gerry Matherson”. These guys had raced cars prior to the war and became my stalwart advisers. Merv. had a Ford T Frontenac racing car in his yard and Gerry was restoring it when time allowed. Gerry had owned and raced locally a quite famous classic Indianapolis Miller. His advice ---- “cam and com is the way to go”.
I made sure of both by havung the head machined and some ingenuity. Cam grinding was out of the question but what the hell. The old 509 had the single central OHC operating the valves via short rockers. I had the rounded ends built up lengthened and ground flat, Bingo.
Merv. rented an extensive old building, no longer existing. The roof leaked and parts were simply strewn about as cars became dismantled. Merv. --- “over there in the corner, under all that crap you will find a Fiat 509 engine”. He had no book of inventory, but with his vibrant old brain none was needed. “Yeh know they used to race those things” he said. “Bloody great little engine, getting them breathing was a problem”. After some digging I found the engine and it tuned out to be from a 1926 Fiat 509, whereas I had identified mine as being a year later 509A, and this turned out to be very significant.
I discovered that the earlier model had the single carburettor located low down on the inlet side of the block, with the inlet passage cast within the block and siamised to exit the block and enter the head as two passages. Here these were again siamised towards the four inlet valves. I became exited. The later model which I possessed had the carburettor shifted to the hot side of the engine with a separate inlet manifold combined with the exhaust. This fed into two passages arranged within the head, so as to connect with the as previously arranged siamised ports.
This change had obviously been made due to problems experienced during cold weather and a sad blunder it would appear. However this suited Trevor. He put the earlier head on his engine which did not have the upward passages in the block, leaving the two passage junctions remaining within the head blanked off. These acted as plenums to be opened up so as to directly fit a pair of carburettors on the cold side of the engine. As a result he very happy to have the sort after classic set up.
Part 2. --- Vintage Fiat 509 Special
The design of the engine overall was quite interesting. The crankshaft included three bearings, but arranged in a quite novel way. The camshaft was driven from the rear via a chain drive which included an interim shaft and sprocket . This intermediate shaft drove a magneto which protruded into the cockpit, very Bugatti like and quite a feature. A crankshaft bearing was located on each sides of the crankshaft sprocket, with the third bearing at the front end. Not a bad set up when one takes into account the cantilevered stiffness this provides. The engine proved reliable when regularly run to 6,000 RPM.
The arrangement of the accessories provided torsional damping for the crankshaft, camshaft and the intermediate chain sprocket. Not silly for sure, given that no supple belts were included in the drives. The block and head were hand filed out behind the camshaft sprocket so as to provide mounting for a bearing assembly and flexible drive to a tachometer. This was made up by converting suitable discarded speedometer.
I had joined the Northern Sports Car club and made a few friends including Ralph Watson who was developing his renowned BSA Special. He knew all about Amal carburettors and they were available very cheaply so that the choice became obvious.
A wide ratio three speed gearbox presented a serious disadvantage. However in the back of my mind remained details of the first locally built Ford Ten special which incorporated a model T Ruxel two speed back axle, suitably modified. Again the choice became obvious. When in the presence of anyone not in the know, two reverse speeds provided entertainment. It also fun to become expert at handling two levers while double de clutching and blipping the throttle in neutral in order to make clean changes. There certainly was no synchromesh available in 1927.
I was lucky to be able to borrow for a short time, a gas welding set and constructed a body frame using electrical conduit taken from rewired houses. Everything was brazed rather than welded for good reason. Rounded sections on the basis of cost were beyond consideration and the frame was fitted with flat steel panels. Here is where the design fell somewhat outside of a modern clubman, as doors were included. The rear was finished off with a discarded tank of suitable shape, together with the spare wheel. All very pukka and in the British tradition, but also more importantly, a very cheap option. Painted with a brush in a light grey without any conception of a flash job, but never the less it was neat and tidy.
The radiator finished off the frontal aspect and was OK using the original radiator which was of a squared shape, off very much like a Rolls Royce. No problems with that! Simple thermo syphon cooling was retained but the header tank was extended using sheet brass and solder.
A set of side and headlamps was spotted advertised in the daily paper at a cheap price and these turned out to be from an classic early Vauxhall tourer, a sort of poor mans Bentley. These Lucas “King of the Road lights”, were quite outstanding in both performance, quality and appearance. I used the quite large matching side lamps as secondary lights, which meant that dipping headlights were not required.
Strangely a stock of new Morris Eight wheels appeared on the market at a very cheap price, therefore a set was purchased and the hubs altered to suit. ( I think these may have been war assets and a story within itself.) Good second hand tyres were fitted. The original car had four wheel internal expanding rod operated mechanical brakes and these had to be accepted in order to minimise costs.
The first event entered was a road race over partly unsealed roads which were closed due to the area being set aside for new housing. Dust was a problem. Run as a charity event the bureaucrats were somehow circumvented. Huge spectator interest but never to be repeated. Not surprisingly the untried car disappointed but completed several races without failing.
Next came a National, hill climb championship with several brand new cars competing. I won the 1,100 c.c. class with time to spare. Just a home-made roadster, but up against some brand new stuff, it performed quite well. The nice spread of gear ratios was a bonus.
I did not have the car for long. An early marriage and a baby daughter intervened. Arranging weather protection was out of the question. The subsequent owner became a car racing friend. Equally short of cash at the time, to my surprise he drove my little Fiat Special on a very long trip down country without any problems. Sadly a photo of the car does not exist.
A Singer Le Mans requiring a lot of restoration took the place of the Fiat Special and as our one and only car. My wife also drove the Singer in competitive events and as a tiny tot daughter Jennifer was transported to and from events in the extended space behind the seats. To this day I am unable to understand and how we all put up with the rock hard suspension.
Them certainly were the days. LOL
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