Monaro CV8 'To Do' list complete - Our Shed

By: Mark Higgins - Words & Photos

Date: 05.01.2023

The work in progress has taken five long years but Big Red's short to do list is complete

I know how Michelangelo must have felt after putting his paintbrush down for the last time and admiring his four years of work, decorating the Sistine Chapel.

Because I finally got around to finishing off a couple of fiddly jobs on the Monaro, and while my efforts fade are nothing compared to Mickey the Painter, the deep feeling of satisfaction is just the same.

 Last ever Aussie made coupe and still a head turner

My work in progress took five years to complete, saw the replacement of two retaining clips that keep the small doors at each end of the console closed, and coax a recalcitrant CD stacker into life.

On my test drive of the Monaro in November 2017, I tried to close the doors and they popped open. I knew, if entered in a concours the non-closing doors would send a judge into a tailspin and a sea of red ink against the car. But as I had no intention of entering the Monaro into anything, I gave them scant thought, figuring they’d be an easy fix and they weren’t going to stop me snaffling this superb example.

The now operational door at the front of the console under the dash

A few months later, on a sunny Sunday morning my partner and I decided a run through the hills out the back of Brisbane would be fun, so we packed a picnic and laughed as we peeled back the tape covering the never-before-used, 10-stack CD player in the boot. We found and then loaded a selection of discs into the cartridge, dropped it into the player, slid the door closed and shut the boot.

We jumped in, reversed out of the driveway and hit the CD button on the dash.

Nothing happened, not a peep. What came up on the radio was Error Code E99. We looked at each other in disbelief.

I tried again, and again and again, and every time E99 appeared.

By now my inner Basil Fawlty appeared and I started yelling at the dash, "You’re brand new... how’s it possible you don’t work? What’s the bloody point of you if you don’t bloody work?"

Following my technical analysis, "fu*^king sh#>box", and several attempted restarts my partner conferred with the owner’s manual, discovering E99 means the microcomputer is locked and to unlock it press and hold the on/off button for six seconds and it’ll reset.

And the door at the rear of the consiole for back seat dwellers

So we tried that and tried it again, and again and... then we played cassettes.

Fast forward five years and after a visit to the Melbourne Bloke Centre, aka Morley’s joint, to fix a sagging glovebox lid, Morley suggested I busy myself on the internet and find the clips for the console doors.

Full of intent I hunted in vain. but Angelo the King of NOS came to the rescue and found me clips to suit a Falcon, that were identical to what I needed in mine.

I ordered a pack of three, so I had a spare, and on their arrival hightailed it to the MBC.

My plan was to fit the clips under the watchful eye of Mr Morley.

His plan was to get the job done swiftly and with something along the lines of, "Give ’em here, you’ll only bugger ’em up and you don’t have any spares."

I stood back. It only took him a couple of minutes to have both doors working again, and for the first time in my ownership.

Maestro Series audio shared with Calais

I was delighted and as a reward for my (our) effort, a hearty counter lunch with a couple of cold frothys were ingested to celebrate this small but vital achievement. I picked up the tab for MBC services rendered.

That milestone kicked me into gear to get the CD stacker working and Mary from our office, who pedals a fleet of fast and famous Alfas and a stunning Brock VC gave me the name of Mr Eurovox fixit man Vas Maleli of SV Group Three Systems.

"Yes I can fix it, just get the unit out and post it to me, Vas said". Only I wasn’t too keen on tearing my boot apart and snapping off all those bloody plastic clips in the process. So I suggested I bring over the CD stacker still attached to the CV8.

10-stack CD unit lurks in the boot

I arrived at the agreed time, and met Vas who then contorted himself into the boot of the Monaro, successfully removing the boot carpet clips and the offending CD stacker.

"Leave it with me", he said and just over an hour later he rang saying, "You better come and get it, it’s all done."

In the hope of a successful operation, I took some CDs with me and Vas plugged in the unit, I hit the CD button and heard a sound quality I’d never experienced before.

The label on the audio system names it Maestro Series, but it sounds more like an old-valve driven radio. And the sound quality when playing the radio or cassettes, (yes it has one of these) was shouse.

But, in CD mode it was as though its 260 watts speakers and subwoofer had emerged from hibernation. The sound was epic. With the player and carpet reinstalled and Vas out of the boot and paid, I thanked him and hit the road.

Slipping onto the freeway driving home the windows went down and the volume up, way up. After a bit of AC/DC and Midnight Oil, I flicked onto the Three Tenors and drove along to Pavarotti pumping out Nessun Dorma. It was wonderful, the feeling that everything was done, and I reckon the famous Italian painter would have approved of my choice of music too.

From Unique Cars #472, Nov/Dec 2022

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