Thursday 23 February 2017

The want of money is the root of all.....rudeness.

A few days ago I contacted the office of a well known dealer in and restorer of Frazer-Nash cars. I was told to e-mail them with "what you want, who you are and that sort of thing"  and someone from the workshop would e-mail me back.  Now call me an impatient sod if you like, but I think that stinks.  Why couldn't she just patch me through to the workshop or give me their number?  I am still awaiting the courtesy of a reply. I am prepared to travel a good distance to photograph and measure a chain drive 'Nash, but of course, they will know that I am not about to cross their palms with any of my cupro-nickel, so I am completely unimportant to them.  Well, sod them. I found 2 reliable looking drawings to work from yesterday in my stash of paperwork and whilst I would have liked to crawl over one in the skin, I can make a perfectly good model from the drawings.

I also sent an enquiry to Winston Teague, Registrar of the 'Nash club asking if anyone near my area might have a car to measure, but, once again, no answer.  I always thought the members of the Frazer-Nash Car Club were supposed to be gentlemen, but clearly I was mistaken.

I love the silly old cars, but it seems that unless I want to wave my ability to pay over 50 grand for a bundle of sticks that any half decent mechanic could make in his shed about, I am not part of the "right crowd".  If I won the Lottery, I am really no longer certain I would want to become one of their number.  Money ruined the Austin 7 hobby for me. Ex Bank Managers and headmasters got hold of them on their fat pensions and completely ruined the raggy arsed enthusiasts' hobby for me. I sold off my Special parts with no great regret when I lost my storage thanks to a halfwit Landlady.

It seems that the once staunchly enthusiastic Chain Gang have gone the same way, where even their lackies in the garage have got the money disease, where the want of it makes them unforgivably rude.

Sod the lot of 'em!

Wednesday 15 February 2017

Fork off, get outa here!.....

Whilst I have never been able to see what keeps a motorcycle up and have therefore never been tempted to ride one, I do like them as machines, in much the same pure way as I like guns...as pieces of craftsmanship.

So, a recent request for me to make masters of 2 early machines came as an interesting notion.  These were to be used as scenic accessories on a model railway layout which was to have a model airfield on it.
A Triumph Model H and a Douglas 4HP and sidecar.


I drew up the Triumph first, but left the steering head area as I couldn't follow what was happening on the photos I had.  I could see no conventional means of support for the Girder forks.  Only a horizontal spring, oddly and a mess of bits and pieces and more often than not a leather belt wound tightly round the business area.

I have spent most of the afternoon hunting for photos of this area and finally found out what I thought must be the answer, but wouldn't allow myself to believe.

But, sure enough, I was right in the first place.  A horizontal spring decrees a horizontal movement.

The 1916 Triumph Model H motorcycle is not so much suspended, but isolated, from the worst exigencies of horizontal forces.  Pretty much we're talking a method, in that early, rarely metalled roads era, of stopping the flimsy forks from simply snapping off after a few miles!

The forks, showing the only two pivots on the front "suspension". One for the horizontal spring which, by the way, just as oddly, works in tension and the main pivot for the whole forks assembly, allowing the front wheel to jiggle fore and aft.  Your backside relies upon the two large springs on the Brooks saddle!  Pure bicycle.