We all harbour a fetish – or two.
Mine are fairly harmless. Or maybe just boring.
My 1926 Citroen B2 Caddy replica is slowly – very slowly – progressing. I do not feel compelled to recreate an exact copy. I can take liberties with the basic concept of a light boat-tail sports car and fabricate something that pleases me, even if nobody else.
It will evoke all the defining features of a Caddy Sport, the seductive svelte lines and compound curves that combine as the flanks meet in a pointy apex. It will look like a Caddy, and that is what matters.
The only one documented to have been in Australia vanished long ago. Few of the 300 made have survived anywhere, but unsurprisingly most are in France. The sole right-hand drive example I know of is in Ireland. It is unlikely that mine will ever be parked next to another for comparison!
I have always loved between-the-war sports cars, and especially those with an engine-turned dashboard. For years I assumed it was incredibly hard to do. When I did some research (a fancy description of hitting YouTube for ‘engine turning’) it was a pleasant surprise to discover it is anything but difficult or even technically complex.
Simply explained, over-lapping circles are scratched on to a shiny aluminium surface making a dazzling pattern that catches the light. The swirls can be large or small. They must, however, be carefully aligned and follow a consistent pattern.
To make sure the lines are straight, I will use a jig. But there are so many different ways to make the swirls, that I decided to experiment with the various techniques before settling on one that I was confident would work.
My first effort was to put some short lengths of wooden dowel into the lathe, trim them down, turn a stem and then superglue some super-fine steel-wool pads on to the base. They looked great but broke within moments of being put under pressure. The result from the steel wool was also sub-optimal so I looked for another way.
Next option was to use a grinding wheel, but whether at a slow or faster speed it was excessively abrasive. It gouged the metal and the results can only be described as ugly.
Instead, I looked for something softer to make the swirls. After a few failed efforts with pieces cut from kitchen scourer, I glued some cork to the bottom of the grinding wheel, and that held its shape.
Another variable was setting the pillar drill at different speeds. Too fast and the cutting fluid turned to gunk, too slow and the cork barely made an impression. Like the Goldilocks principle, it had to be just right.
But what to use as a cutting compound? ‘Research’ sang the praises of everything from toothpaste – no specific brand – to duco polishing and cutting compound. I tried them all in different configurations, as well as non-abrasive lubricants like WD-40 to see what was best.
The cutting compound won that contest and matched with the cork-tipped grinding wheel at medium speed on my variable speed pillar drill, will be my ‘go to’.
After that exhaustive and scientifically rigorous effort at experimentation, I roughed out the dashboard with possible – or probable – spots for all the various instruments. Over years and years I have been lucky to find jewels and treasure at swap meets and online, particularly at www.pre-warcar.com
The original Caddy had very basic instruments – a headlight switch, an ammeter, the choke control and a sight glass to keep an eye on the oil level. That was it!
More expensive French period sports cars boasted jewellery on board that Citroen never offered. The typical options list included a speedo driven from a leather belt off the prop shaft, and a seven-day often dial-wound car clock. I have also lucked out with a ‘Citroen 10hp’ branded oil-pressure gauge, a rare accessory that is off being restored and reglassed and is therefore absent in the photos.
A volt meter seems superfluous for the 6V system but – hey, it looks good – so I have added a period gauge for that too.
A few dash lamps with their shiny chrome hoods finish off the array and meet my approval. I reckon I have managed to whack enough bling on-board to make Melania Trump jealous.
Now that the carpentry for the dash mount is finished, I have to muster enough spare time to make the simple MDF jig. It will clamp the aluminium sheet flat and boast notches for both the vertical and horizontal axes, to ensure uniform steps.
Then I can get stuck in to making pretty swirls to my heart’s content -and feed my fetish.
