|
Sitting here in Gloucestershire, I was ready for another road trip but where and in what car?
I called a Swedish classic car friend ‘Hej Sven, har du en annan Lancia Fulvia till salu? Ok my Swedish was not great but hey, Sven got the jest, then broke into English.”Ah, good to hear from you” I have a ’71 S2 Fulvia but it needs some body work and hasn’t been on the road since 2002 but the mechanics are good’.”Ok I’m interested, email me a few pics and full details'.That evening, I checked my email and true to form, Sven had done what he said. Another reason for doing business in Scandinavia - they understand the four basic C’s to run any successful business – courtesy, clarity, communication and consideration!
Checking the pics, I could see the Fulvia was burgundy with black interior. Ok, the paint was badly sun damaged and the front passenger seat needed to be recovered. Scruffy, but Sven assured me it was good mechanically with no major rust. I called him. “What’s the price?” ‘Ok that’s acceptable’ he said. “Great, I’ll be up next week and if everything is good, we have a deal”. Sure I was a bit cheeky but hey, a few years ago he sold me another Fulvia which needed some repairs to pass the rigorous, Swedish MOT and, to get the car back to merry England! .
A few days later, I arrived at the car in S. Sweden. Included in the deal were lots of parts – 2 front seats, reconditioned block/head, brake servo, steering gear, windscreen, new pistons, rings, wheel bearings. I fired up the Fulvia and heard an exhaust manifold leak but after a 20 minute hard run, the engine didn’t overheat or, leak oil. After a bit of bargaining, I bought the car and headed back to where I was staying.
The next morning, I fitted a 2 bar roof rack, tied down all the chrome trim and covered everything with plastic. In the boot were gaskets / new main bearings / new SKF bearings / chrome door handles + 2 spare tyres . Behind the front seats, 3 windscreens + engine block + cylinder head + other parts. 2 hours later, my wife and I set off for Gloucestershire. On route past IKEA, she said “Let’s have lunch there” “Great idea”. But as we approached IKEA, she cried out “What’s that noise?” “Noise? “Ah that’s only the exhaust, banging against the rear axle. Don’t worry dear, I’ll fix it. In the boot, I found a piece of wire and hooked up the rear exhaust. Off we went to IKEA
Suddenly, another noise. “brown stuff, a puncture” I stopped the car to discover the rear right tyre was flat. My wife shouted “That’s it, No way am I crossing the Oresund bridge, let alone driving to the UK in this banger. Drop me off at the train station. I’m flying home” Undeterred, I untied the rope, holding down the boot lid, removed all the heavy parts (engine block / cylinder head and so on) I took out the scissor jack, block of wood, wheel brace and changed the wheel. “Phew, was I glad I'd stashed an extra spare tyre in the boot. The tyres on the car were at least 12 years old but good enough to pass the Swedish MOT. Ok maybe I should have got new ones + tubes but hey, they had plenty of thread so why waste dosh eh! Besides, I was in a hurry to get the car home.
After a quick lunch at IKEA – meatballs of course, I dropped my wife at the train and headed to the bridge tool booth. I tried my usual trick by putting the exact change in one hand. “Hi there, guess the hand and, if you're wrong, it’s a freebie” Your man, wasn’t amused. He looked down at the sight of the rusty, old car with a roof rack full of chrome, sticking out of the plastic covering. OK it wasn’t the average, gleaming BMW / Audi or Volvo but hey, it’ll give your man something to blather to his workmates I thought! “That will be £34”
On route down though Denmark to catch the Danish / German ferry, I stopped off a few days with some South African friends in the countryside. When I arrived, the whole family came out. Needless to say, they had a good laugh at the sight of this scruffy looking ‘71 Lancia!
Early the next morning, I headed off to catch the 45 minute ferry between Denmark & Germany. On route to Lubeck, hundreds of cars screamed past me. By now I was used to drivers / truckers / tour buses, even the police, staring at me. “Haven't you lot never seen a Fulvia with a roof rack before?” I muttered. But when a trucker overtook and flipped on his emergency lights, the penny dropped . “Maybe, just maybe, I lost the boot lid or, the 2 bar IKEA roof rack is loose”
I pulled over, got out and went around to the back to discover one rear, very battered rear exhaust box trailing behind. Now it dawned on me why drivers were hooting their horns, waving frantically at me! Must have been a sight –sparks flying behind this 50 + little car! Not what they were used seeing on a German autobahn. But hey, I’d been in worse predicaments before and besides with each km, I was becoming more and more confident of my new purchase.
Back on the autobahn, to relieve the boredom of having to go 80 kms, I started to check out all the foreign number plates. Suddenly, a brand new Swedish car slowed down. I looked over and smiled at the dolly looking woman. I could read her mind - “What a loser, Herre Gud Sven, thank goodness I married you!” Then the car roared off in the distance. On I continued with yet more high powered Germans / truckers / motor bikes tour buses, speeding past, some doing in excess of 160 kms. Even cars towing caravans were overtaking me! Well hey, it wasn’t hard as I was the slowest, oldest vehicle on a German autobahn!
I looked up and believe me lads, as you well know, these Fulvias are like LOW, I caught sight of bored, kids leaning out of their rear windows, poking cell phones / tablets and cameras at me, I began to think. “Gawd, I bet one of those nerds will post this on facebook or, You Tube before the next exit” Not exactly how I’d like to be famous for. I had other plans! But I suppose the sight of this tiny Fulvia with plastic flapping in the wind must have been amusing.
Past Hamburg, I was used to drivers gawking down at me, “Looks like you’re all in a hurry to reach death. “Not me mate!” I pulled into a rest area, checked the roof rack, changed the fuel filter again. I turned the key and no sound. I looked down at the dash. Not a blink. “F… the bleeding battery is dead. Ok, be positive” I hopped out, checked the battery leads and discovered a loose fan belt was the problem.
Ten minutes later, the fan belt was tight. Looking around, I spotted a motorist smoking and asked him “ Any chance of a jump” “No problem, have you cables?” “Yep”. After a quick jump, the engine fired up and off I sped, or rather, crawled out onto the F1 autobahn. “One day, I’ll be speeding along in a '60's 2.8 Flaminia Zagato Super Sport!”
Fed up with cars speeding past me, I headed to Oldenburg to get to Gronnigen in N. Holland. My plan was to stay the night and head down through Holland to Dunkirk. After a 13 hour run, I reached Gronnigen, exhausted. After a good nights sleep and another fuel filter change, I was off early the next morning. About 100 kms the engine started to splutter. Again, I just made it to a service station, checked and changed another plastic fuel filter. I regretted not having cleaned out the tank but I didn't have time to hang around Sweden. But hey, I congratulated myself on having stocked up with 10 plastic fuel filters!
In the South of Holland, I pulled in and spent the night. The next day, I drove over to another Lancia enthusiast near Brussels whom I’d met him online on the Lancisti forum when he replied to a Fulvia Dunlop brake problem. When I got there, he checked out the carburettors, fuel pump and blew out the petrol line. After a 2 hour pit stop, I headed to Dunkirk to catch the ferry to Dover. “No way am I heading to Calais. The last thing I want is one of those migrants removing precious parts and hiding inside the boot” Suddenly, my front wheels started to wobble badly. “It couldn’t be unbalanced front wheel” After checking both front wheels, I spotted a missing right wheel weight. Nothing to do but to drop down to 70 kms which ended that problem. With 2 hours to kill at the ferry terminal, I hopped out, whipped off the fuel filter and cleaned the spark plugs.
At 10 pm, I boarded the boat and arrived into Dover. On the hill outside Dover, heading to the A20, the car started to splutter. “Not again” As I struggled to keep the engine going, I couldn't stop because there was no hard shoulder. Suddenly, up ahead, I saw a sign Exit A260 to Canterbury. I limped off the busy road and just made it to the roundabout when the car died. Stuck in the roundabout at 11.30 pm, I spotted a few road maintenance lads. I got out, pushed the car off the roundabout and walked over to them “Lads, any chance of a jump?” “Sure” replied a friendly worker. “Hold on I’ll take the heavy duty battery out from the mobile traffic lights”. Ten minutes later, the engine fired up and, as it was almost midnight, I decided to park up safely.
I called my wife who wasn’t too happy at being disturbed at 12.30 am to ask her for a friend’s cell no! Two hours later, he arrived and loaded me up on his car trailer, taking me the 330 kms home. At 9 am, I pushed the car down into my underground car parking space and the two of us walked along the terrace. My wife was delighted at the safe return. “See, I told you the Fulvia would make it,” And that my friends is the end a very memorable, summer Nordic 3700 kms ‘safari’
|
