On modern Vespa, to adjust suspension preload simply apply supplied C spanner (which is crap) to the rings (which are siezed despite being only months old) on the suspension units (which are inaccessible).
Or take half the bike apart and eventually persuade it to comply…
Had a puncture on the Vespa and discovered I didn’t have the right stuff with me to swap to the spare. Recovery guy arrived pretty quick and swapped them over no problem.
At home, I then got to discover the interesting way Vespa wheels are constructed, allowing tyre replacement with only very simple tools. Though it requires a good amount of force to get the tyre on and off the rim.
I don’t suppose anyone is still looking who followed when this was my car blog, but classic tinkering is back in the form of a 1970 Vespa.
Above shows before and after fixing failed clutch cable. Luckily I spotted it before it actually broke, although it was down to 3 strands!
Another recent activity was decoking the cylinder head, which would be a big job on a 4-stroke OHV or OHC engine but is a piece of cake on this little 2-stroke. I don’t think much of the surface inside the combustion chamber - could be worth smoothing it out somehow. This is a modern part; I’m sure the original was better in that respect.
A few photos from MGCC at Snetterton. I realised that I’d basically been taking the same photos of the same cars for a few years, so took far fewer this year, but here are a few to prove we were there.
Don’t be fooled into thinking the Metros are too slow to race - both of these, and some others, were keeping up with - or in the case of red 28, ahead of - far more obviously fast cars, by a combination of Metro natural good handling, race tuning and, in one case, replacement of the standard 1.4 litre by a nearly 2 litre motor.
While there’s no car, there can still be tinkering. I’ve put this mower together from bits of at least three others.
The engine suffered from having tipped over in storage, so oil was everywhere it shouldn’t be, including about half-filling the exhaust. But it eventually stuttered into life with a lot of smoke and settled down to a reasonable idle.
A bit of tinkering and cleaning will hopefully make it saleable, as we have two similar mowers already (themselves made from multiple others).
Well, almost as soon as it arrived, the Dolomite is gone. In unbelievable timing, on the very day I bought it, my neighbour, whose garage I’ve rented (and not cheaply) for six years, chucked me out, leaving me with only a terrible council lockup that takes about 10 minutes fiddling to squeeze a car into it and absolutely no space to work.
Also, while it had no major problems, the Dolomite had a lot more little ones than I thought at purchase. Given that fixing those DIY was no longer feasible without a garage, I decided to bail out.
The Dolomite has been sold to a dealer for less than half the (much too big) amount I paid for it.
There won’t be another proper classic in the foreseeable future. Maybe when the pain has dulled, a really cheap “modern classic” to keep my mechanic hand in.
Just starting to get brave enough to tackle some of the items on Dolly’s initial snag list. The exhaust is one of the few non original items and its mountings are a bit of a lash up. The rubbers had split so I have replaced them. The exhaust is now more secure but now annoyingly occasionally rattles against a bit of suspension. It’s not too bad but I’d like to eliminate that problem - perhaps just adjusting one of the PO’s DIY brackets.
I know that’s not an original name for a Dolomite*, but having had cars called Molly, Polly and Milly, and being married to Holly, there was only one choice that made sense.
So today Molly has gone home with her new owner. End of 6.5 mostly happy years of her and me.
At one point the plan was to get her to her 50th birthday in 2020. But in the end I decided that I wanted a change a bit earlier.
It’s very much hopefully not the end of me and classic cars. In a few years, the march of technology and environmental legislation will make it impractical to drive a classic as transport (I’m not interested in an old car that I can’t use). But I think there’s time for one more adventure for me and a suitable vehicle.
Annoyingly, prices haven’t yet dropped to take account of the impending doom of the hobby, so I either have to accept a rather limited choice of cars at the money I’d like to pay, or to pay more than I’d like. It’ll probably be the latter!
This shot was taken before I took a newly-topless Molly out for a short local drive to enjoy the Easter sunshine. The speedo, new at restoration, was reading 19999 before we started and is now a few miles over 20000.
Although the restoration (by a previous owner) was completed 11 years ago, almost all those miles are in the 6 1/2 years that I have owned Molly; only about 3000 in previous hands.
Whilst visiting relatives, I attended a little car show in a delightful setting near Shrewsbury. Very un-British weather helped a lot.
We were in a modern car, but there were a few Spridgets on show, including this Sprite, parked next to a nice sporty Imp - another little British car that I rather covet.
Thought I’d better check how the gearbox and clutch were, after a few hundred miles. Oil level was unchanged - the ‘box doesn’t seem to leak. Using a cheapo borescope attachment to my Android tablet, I looked at the clutch slave cylinder - it all seems still to be properly attached.
I do wish there was an option to buy a slightly better borescope for a bit more money. They all seem to fall into the categories of sub-£10 but a bit crap (like mine) or over £100 and presumably good. Could someone not make a £40 one that’s middling quality?
Still, the cheapo borescope still makes the job so much easier. Normally, in absence of a lift, inspecting the clutch slave involves jacking up the car really high and using axle stands, so one can safely get right underneath. The borescope does the job with the car sat on its wheels!