Mmm. It's the first time I've ever posted a Blog, I'm not sure exactly the protocol. It's a bit like standing up at a meeting to say your name and that you are addicted to British cars. Lots of them. Mostly rusty, battered, tatty cars that have lots of "potential". I think my wife summed it up succinctly when I brought home a smashed TR8, with the statement. "That's eighteen! That's enough!" But then it was she who pointed out the derelict Rover P6B in town that she thought we could buy cheap a week later.
I have a lot of project cars. There, I've said it. It's not something I'm necessarily proud of, but I guess it beats molesting sheep for a hobby.
Luckily I found the right lady to marry, as the first thing we built when we moved in together was a 2,000 sq ft barn. Now, four years later, we still live in an 800 sq ft shack with no insulation and not much in the way of walls. But we have a very nice workshop. My side of it is however completely filled with junk British cars. Not just parked mind you. We are talking stacked! With bodies hanging from the ceiling. (sounds a bit like a risque detective novel).
Currently the active roster includes a Moss supercharged tatty 1970 MGB (with rustholes). A TR8 with bad paint job, that needs a steering rack and suspension rebuild. A Rover Sd1 that is really cool, but a tad neglected and a 65 MGB vintage racer that needs to be brought back up to spec. Hmm. I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here.
Sitting in the sidelines (or hanging from the ceiling) are some really interesting projects, as I can't really leave well enough alone. Needless to say, there are enough bits of lamentably decrepit British iron in the shop to deflect the compasses of passing planes.
At the moment, I've taken a bit of time away from wrenching to tidy the shop up and add some outlets where they are needed. Last night I installed a couple of pulley sets to hang the bicycles on, so I can get to the nifty bead blast cabinet that I bought used about 2 years ago and promptly buried under junk. I managed to pick up a heated aqueous solution cleaning tank and a lift from a local Ford dealer that went out of business. So a major re-organization was needed to make space for even more tools. Walking into my shop now, is like realizing a childhood dream of walking through a forest full of little footpaths with foliage overhead. Only the foliage is made up of Morgan body parts and air hoses. The trees are lifts and storage shelves and the roots are extension cables and air lines just waiting to trip the unwary, or my wife, whomever comes first. She can't complain too much as the chain fall that is suspending the Morgan tub from the roof beam is a family heirloom from her side of the family. The chain wrapped around the beam was hand forged by her grandfather and the 5 gallon tubs of grease and 140W oil are all hand me downs from her dad. Now all I need is a logging truck to work on, so I can use his 1" socket set.
You see, we really are just products of our parents!