MORLEY IS BACK ON HOME SOIL PONDERING WHAT AUTOMOTIVE GEMS HE CAN UNEARTH OR SIMPLY TAKE A SQUIZ AT
So, after almost two months on the road, I’m back in the real world, where the lawn has to be mowed and the bills can find me. Bummer. I kind of liked not knowing where I was gonna be in a few days, nor where I was going to sleep each night. That’s one of the great things about travelling; you get to ignore some of the stuff that would otherwise fill your day and just wing it. I like winging it. Apparently, I’m pretty good at it.
Anyways, here I am back at the Melbourne Bloke Centre, answering two-month-old emails and trying to work out where my next dollar is coming from. And, as some of you may remember, a few issues ago I asked you lot to put up your hands if you had a car that had somehow escaped my clutches over the years. And the response has been amazing.
One of the people to get in contact was a bloke called Greg who owns a fabulous 1967 Mk1 Mini Cooper S. A proper one, too, not a home-made one. Since he lives a couple of hours from the MBC, I had arranged to meet him next time I was up that way. Which was a few months ago.
So why are you only reading about it now? Because, typically, the ducks just didn’t line up. Not even nearly. A day or two before I was due to arrive at chez Greg, he contacted me to say that the Cooper had shat a clutch master cylinder. And, since he didn’t live anywhere near a classic Mini shop, he didn’t have a new one to fit. Ah well, next time.
Next time arrived the other day when I was, once again, on my way back to sunny Victoria and had to pass almost right by Greg’s place. So I hit him up a second time. Yes, the car was fixed and once again in rude health, and, yes, I could drop in, have a cuppa and go for a ride. Bewdy.
Turns out Greg is an ex car detailer, so you better believe he knows a thing or three about keeping a set of wheels in tip-top shape. Once I’d apologised for the state of the MBC Parts Chaser (in which I arrived, looking like it had just finished Le Mans) and guzzled down a cup of his finest coffee, we repaired to the shed where the little Cooper S was lurking in a corner, ready for its (and our) next adventure.
Turns out Greg is a serial Mini botherer, including having his mitts on a previous Mk 1 Cooper S that he was forced to sell when he was just a lad to pay for a house deposit. The good news is he’s still married to the same gal, and she’s deffo a keeper, because a few years ago, once they were financially set up, she told him that for his 30th birthday, he should shout himself another Mini. This one.
Greg reckons there wasn’t a whole lot right with the Mini when he got hold of it all those 23 years ago.
“It had a bit of rust and had suffered a big crash in the front with the dodgiest repair you’ve ever seen”
Clearly, Greggy has never seen my panel beating skills.
Greg has tried to keep the Mini stock standard, but since he’s also done three Targa High Country events in it as well as countless circuit sprints and hill climbs, some changes have been snuck in.
“It’s still 1275cc,” he says, “but I’ve tried to keep as many original components as possible. But it is warmed over a bit.”
Warmed over?
“Yeah, it’s been balanced and lightened internally, there’s a cam, some headwork and it’s now higher compression. We also stuck a Quaife limited slip diff in it and the diff ratio is taller so it’s a bit more relaxed on the highway. Mind you, I wouldn’t want to drive it to Perth; the suspension is terrible.
Greg reckons the little mill now boots out about 100 neddies and with a single sidedraft Weber poking back at the cabin, it’s a ripper looking thing under the bonnet, too. He hits the key and the garage is filled with that wonderful, musical tune that only a tuned BMC A-Series can play. It seems to warm up quickly and settles in to a fairly rumpy-pumpy idle, but the engine itself is amazingly free of mechanical noise. Not that it would be heard anyway, over the snorting, brapping Weber that sounds like it’s trying to inhale the speedo from the other side of the firewall.
The warbling intake racket is worst around 3000rpm, and is then gone, replaced by a glorious exhaust note that makes you want to blip the gas on every gear change. Oh yeah, that’s right, Greg actually let me drive the Cooper. Top bloke.
The gearing in this car is longer than any other Mini I’ve ever driven, but the extra power and torque of the tuned donk easily masks that. Okay, some longer hills at middling speeds will have you shifting back to third, but overall, the end result is so much better than having that little three-bearing crank spinning itself crazy and sending you mad at 100km/h on the highway.
Inside, the Cooper has been treated to an interior that is probably about as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen in one of these. The roof lining is spotless and taut in each corner, the carpets fit properly and this Mini is the only one I’ve ever been in where the speedo needle doesn’t weave and wobble across about 30mph-worth of real estate. And the seats! Okay, they’re a fraction tight for my, er, ample self, but they hold you in and they look gorgeous. The only thing they can’t fix is the on-the-turps driving position that comes from having the steering column more of less poking out of the floor.
Does it make me want to own a hot Mini Cooper? Yes, but now that I’ve sampled the best, it would have to be this very one. And I don’t think Greg is interested in moving the little guy on.
If you have a car you reckon I need to see (or coffee that needs to be drunk or a dog that needs to be patted) drop me a line care of this magazine.
White washing
Ever bought a brand-new car? Lucky you. But as well as that new-car smell, such a purchase will also probably have exposed you to one of the greatest rip-offs in the automotive world. No, not speed cameras, I’m talking about the way dealerships have the habit of charging you several hundred bucks to order your car in any colour apart from Kelvinator white.
Yep, in a world where things like satellite navigation, cruise control, powered seats and air-condish (you know all the stuff that used to cost extra) are now standard, you will still be asked to pay extra for a blue car versus a white one.
From where I sit, this is a huge rort. And I hate rorts.
I refuse to believe that, given the scale of production carmakers work with, it can possibly cost $500 or even $1000 extra to paint a car anything other than white. C’mon … who’s zooming who here? Maybe if you want a double-flip pearl paint-job with a metallic black roof, there’s a legitimate case for asking extra, but I’m seeing the extra charge being applied to even solid, single colour paint-jobs that just happen to be not white.
My advice, of course, is not to take it sitting down, but haggle like crazy and use a free colour upgrade as a means of the sales person demonstrating their respect and affection for you. I mean, if they can throw in floor mats and number-plate frames, they can paint your new car orange with a green roof and not charge you extra. Am I right?
The other thing that dealerships have been doing for decades is loading you up with a bunch of extras you don’t need. I’m talking about the aftermarket junk like rust-proofing, upholstery protectant and paint coating.
Okay, ceramic coating is a thing for sure, but the stuff most dealers are flogging may not actually be proper ceramic coating, regardless of what they call it as you’re signing the sales contract. And if you do want ceramic coating, why wouldn’t you take it to a specialist rather than trust anybody else to get it right?
And honestly, if they can’t sell you a car in 2025 that won’t rust without a few hundred bucks worth of aftermarket product, they’re wasting your time. Surely.
Book him, Danno
I’ve done a thing. Actually, I’ve written a thing. I was approached to come up with an idea for a motoring book, and, being genetically lazy, I figured I’d write what I’d most like to read, rather than do any market research. And this is the result.
It’s called Road Masters and it’s basically my pick of the best five cars ever made by the majority of the well-known carmakers around the planet. Yep, I know, totally indulgent and guaranteed to raise a few eyebrows.
But you know what? It was a lot of fun to write and even if they don’t agree with my choices, I hope anybody reading it gets a giggle now and then. I’ve also tried to throw a few well-blow-me-down facts in the mix, too, and maybe, just maybe, you might discover a few things about various cars that you didn’t know. I know I did once I started the process of compiling all 150 entries.
The book is a hard-cover unit, and about as thick as the average politician. Hopefully, every dad in Australia is going to get a copy for Father’s Day and, once it’s been read, I reckon it’d be perfect for killing cockroaches (it’s pretty heavy) or propping up the dodgy leg of the coffee table. Which makes it a coffee-table book, in my opinion.
You’ll find it at all good (and some crook) book shops or you can search for it online. My accountant thanks you in advance.
Staying indoors
Things get a bit quiet in Melbourne in the middle of winter. Nobody wants to stand in a muddy paddock with an umbrella, so car shows kind of disappear for a few months down this way. Which means tappet-heads like us get a bit twitchy without our monthly fix.
Which is how I came to attend an indoor swap meet recently. Staged by a handful of European car clubs, the whole shebang was contained within a huge warehouse which meant we were out of the rain and the winter wind. And you know what? This could catch on.
Okay, so it’s always nice to be out roaming around in a park somewhere with the sun shining on a few hundred automotive masterpieces, or cruising round in a T-shirt buying up all those bits and pieces you never knew you needed, but that just aint gonna happen in Melbourne in July. So move it indoors, charge everybody a small fee to pay for the rent of the warehouse and the dunnies and set up the club barbecue in one corner to crank out sausages in bread. Which is exactly what happened, meaning a few hundred car nuts got their fix and went home happy and possibly with a little spring in their step and a small hole in their wallet.
Me, I found the bit I was looking for dunes The Speaker’s Volvo and fell in love with a minty metallic green G-Series 911 in the car park. If the owner is reading this, well done pal, you have chosen the perfect colour for an early Porker. (Actually, now I’ve gone back through a few issues, I think UC has actually featured this very same car. Oh, and the paint colour is officially called Ice Green Metallic. Love it.)
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