It‘s a funny thing but no sooner had I sent Tony my copy for last month‘s article than I got an excited email message to the effect ”Under no circumstances try welding without prior instruction". Strange that - you would almost think he didn‘t trust me!
However he did turn up at my garage very soon after to commence the body repairs. (See - I‘m not quite as daft as I look!) and the appropriate tuition was started. I think he was complementary about my performance, though it was hard to catch exactly what he said since it was under his breath as he turned away. I am sure however that any muffled reference to pigeon s**t was a figment of my imagination.
Purely in the interests of speed it was decided that Tony was the better man to do the job so one Saturday at 08.30 we got under way. This seemed to involve a lot of hitting my car with hammers, each blow of which seemed to produce a new hole. Pretty soon the better side of the floor pan (earlier pronounced pretty solid) looked pretty damned lace like to me. In addition we found unsuspected damage where some previous owner had attempted structural modifications, possibly to try and remove the gear box without removing the engine. (I blame Don for getting violent when removing the engine, remember the flattened heater box? Ed.)
Completely undaunted, Tony began cutting out the bad bits with a frighteningly large margin of good bit. This allegedly necessary vandalism produced defects of alarming proportions but I must admit that when Tony had bent up a few plates and wielded the torch for an hour or three it began to look pretty good.
My part in all this was restricted at first to fire watching and spraying the occasional flash fire caused by the ignition of the remains of the fibrous floor covering. This went very well until the unfortunate juxtaposition of fire, squirter, large hole in the body and your editor‘s face. He wasn‘t amused I promise you! At least this got me promoted to cutting out and plate bending. Even so at the end of the first day‘s work at 5.30pm we had only got as far back as the rear seats on the first side.
Work was restricted to days when Ellen was at work and Tony could skive off the decorating so before the next session I had turned the car on its side with the help of Matthew, my son in law. This, I thought, gave excellent access so I spent a lot of time cutting out and preparing plates before Tony came again. He dropped Ellen off at the station for a trip to London and lit the welding torch at 09.15. He welded and I cut and bent and fetched lunch and he put the torch out at ten past twelve to eat, lit it again at twenty five past and didn‘t put it down again except to change position until after half past five. We worked so hard (Who is this ”we". Ed) that when Tony got home and fell into the bath he found that his arms and face were sunburned by the UV generated by the flame. It was a famous day‘s work and finished the outstanding three quarters of the job.
Half way through it was necessary to tip the car onto the other side, so I first fixed a safety rope from the roof rail to a hook in a rafter so the car could go only a little way past the vertical and then be lowered into it‘s new position. Sadly by the time we reached this position I had forgotten about the rope and couldn‘t understand why it would go no further. So I pushed whilst Tony, on the receiving side, looked worried and then the hook broke. I have never seen anyone that big move that fast. Fortunately I had positioned a chair to catch the car in case of just such an event so there was no damage other than to editorial dignity.
Since that day I have come to love the torch for it‘s ability to assist in the removal of obstinate bits such as suspension bushes and rusted on nuts. I have also learned a couple of things. Firstly, burning rubber from bushes is very very hot on your hands and secondly, when you heat a nut to get it off an awkward spot under the car you should not leave it where you will roll onto it when you move to the next one.