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Decluttering the library – Faine 468

Cull or keep? In an effort to avoid being buried, young Mr Faine is having a crack at a clean-out

Overwhelmed with books of all kinds, I am conducting a steady library cull. Too many of those volumes that are under serious threat of eviction, of being banished, are motoring-related. I’m ashamed to admit that most have not been touched for decades.

Why do I still have repair and service manuals for cars I owned thirty years ago? Do I really need a photocopy – not even the original – of the Owners Handbook for the 1960 Messerschmitt KR200 Kabinenroller I disposed of twenty-five years ago? The WW2 fighter-inspired micro-car was a useless thing – only good for taking the kids for joy rides around the block. The neighbours were unimpressed – wherever we went, it left behind a haze of two-stroke smoke as a calling card 

When I bought the little toy, the usually clear perspex lid was cracked along the upper lip, and a repair had been attempted by coating the entire roof in some sort of thick white heavy paint in an attempt to seal and hide the blemish. The fix also had the effect of insulating the otherwise stifling cabin, although the suffocating lack of any air circulation combined with the afore-mentioned fumes meant even a short trip risked either a headache or asphyxiation.

To solve the problem, I acquired a genuine convertible top from the Micro-Car and Scooter Club. A rag-top Messerschmitt was a much happier proposition, although I still hardly used it as it was somewhat unnerving looking sideways at wheel nuts on a bus or truck while at the traffic lights.

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I enjoyed the novelty of having as many gears in reverse as forward. By turning the key the opposite way you could start the 200cc motor in reverse and then if brave enough change gears while going backwards – I never got past second.

Is there a reason why I still have ‘Bristol Cars, An Illustrated History’ by Charles Oxley, published back in 1990 when I actually owned a glorious unrestored and original 1953 401? It had been advertised in the Saturday newspaper classifieds for a few weeks in a row, so curiosity got the better of me and I travelled an hour and a half to inspect. The seller had owned the car for decades and was quite sentimental about selling it.

The hand-made beauty had been sadly neglected, requiring an octopus strap around the gearbox to keep the selector lid on, as well as having no electrics and doors and windows that did not open or stay shut as required. There were no carpets, no horn, a broken headlamp and fog lamp glass and the wooden dash was delaminating. Most of the instruments and switches seemed to have no effect but I enjoyed the test drive and made what the seller said was an insulting offer of 2/3rds what he was asking.

I watched as the ad kept appearing week after week for months. Then the week before Christmas, with the ad once again in the classifieds, I rang and inquired if this was the same car that I had taken for a test drive three months before. “Nobody has even been to look,” said the seller “except one bloke ages ago who made a silly offer, but now I wish I had taken it. It has to go – I’m facing bankruptcy”.

| Read next: Rob Blackbourn on decluttering

I drove it home the next day. It took a lot of work to sort out the gremlins and get it roadworthy and registered, but I then enjoyed driving it for years. I only sold it because I could not afford to look after it. The aluminium panels were showing signs of electrolytic conversion – aluminium corrosion – caused by the loss of the insulation that separates the steel Superleggera tube frame from the soft alloy panels. It is hellishly expensive to repair, and along with returning the ghastly vinyl seat trim to leather, it meant a massive bill I knew I could not afford.

I sold it to a man in WA who kept me up to date with his nut and bolt restoration until I unhelpfully expressed my disapproval that he decided to replace the gorgeous and original slightly metallic egg-shell blue paint with off-white. After finishing his meticulous rebuild, he promptly flogged it to someone who took it to Europe and it was recently auctioned in Switzerland.

The next cluster of books to remind me of my motoring past are the collected manuals, spare parts and owners handbooks for BMW E9 coupes – the last of which I owned ten years ago. I have had two – a silver CS and a peacock blue CSi with rare white factory leather seats. I improved the fuel-injected rocket with a Getrag 5-speed conversion, making it a more relaxing highway cruiser.

The stratospheric rise in the market price of early BMW Coupes can be traced as having started within just days of me selling mine – they are now appreciated for the supercar that they are. But in order to buy something else, I had to sell mine; ‘one in = one out’ in my garage. The buyer immediately ripped out the factory original leather seats and had them re-trimmed in… white leather! Incomprehensible, but people can do whatever they want once they buy ‘your’ car. He also retro-fitted air-conditioning, reverted to the 4-speed original gearbox and then sold it anyway.

As I remember the stories that go with the old books, I am reminded of all the pleasure each of these cars gave me. Maybe I should keep just a few…

 

From Unique Cars #468, Jul/Aug 2022

 

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