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!