The Ford Thames gets a brush paintjob
[Back to the Garage Diary]
Thames pickup resurrection.
The ongoing resurrection of the little Ford pickup truck (1955) has taken a little longer than planned. I wouldn't go so far as to say restoration, as that would involve a fiendishly long period of time with the vehicle reduced to several none-too-neat piles of assorted clutter. And with one or two other ruins in a similar state, the last thing I need is another vehicle torn down to the last nut and split pin. So, from the beginning, this was always viewed as a resurrection, a return to the road for an odd little vehicle that hasn't turned a wheel on the country's road network for 11 or 12 years. It'll never be up to being showed, not that showing a car is high on my list of priorities. Taking part in small local events, ideally involving a little road run, does appeal, but for the most part, showing a car, and spending the day sat behind it on a stripey deckchair, never has really floated my boat.
Maybe one day I will have the time to restore it, gently knocking out the dings and biffs that the rear pickup bed has acquired over the years. While at it, the rear pickup sides (sheet steel, very rot prone) would probably want replacing too. But for now, a general improvement in its wellbeing, and a return to occasional use, will do me. Since beginning its re-birth, I've done the following to it:
- whip out the engine, fit a new clutch and bolt on a better secondhand gearbox
- welding to rear corners and cab roof
- rub down and repaint all the body
- fit new engine and gearbox mounts
- drop off the front axle, fit new transverse spring and shackles
- source a replacement grille (the original was slightly bent) and fit new bonnet tape
- source a replacement driver's front wing (the original had been plated many times)
- replace the driver's side headlamp assembly (old one was a bit rusty)
- fit a better screen and frame assembly
- fit new grille spoon, front brake expander rubber boots
- attend to the many grease points, check steering box, adjust front brakes
|
During January I finished attending to the re-paint of the cab. In the true spirit of reviving vans in days gone by, the re-paint was a simple affair, involving a decent quality brush and a tin of British Racing Green enamel paint. I brushpainted it back in 1992 and it had held up reasonably over the years, but as all the front end tinwork was off to pull the engine out, it seemed a convenient moment to freshen up the old girl with a lick of the green stuff. A quick flatdown of the old finish, some localised attention courtesy of my Mig welder, and then a topcoat of BRG, applied on one of the coldest days of the year so far.
The finish isn't exactly 'Pebble Beach winner' (in fact it has a surface not unlike that found on an average beach) but it'll do, and looks ok from twenty paces. The replacement grille is ready to go on, as are both front wings which I stripped and repainted black some time ago. Grilles are not easy to find for E83Ws as they are very prone to being nerfed, and are very tricky to pull straight if they have had a whack. I spied a shiny one on sale at
a show recently, but a good close look suggested that it too had been pushed in ever so slightly. Fortunately I'd bought a minter early in 2005, and that was assigned to the green pickup, the original battered example now gracing the garage wall with other trophies of motors past.
Handily the Ford still has its original numberplates, the type with the separate white plastic letters, fitted to the plate with small metal clips around the back. I carefully removed the clips and put the registration letters somewhere safe. A swift rubdown with a spot of 120 wet and dry, and a lick of paint courtesy of a satin black spray can bought at the Woolworths sale, and the numberplate, with letters re-fitted, came up like a good 'un.
The 'to do' list is now as follows:
- re-fit grille, wings, bumper and bonnet
- check over the 6v wiring and get the lights working again
- source some better tyres (anyone got any 6.50x16s they want to sell?)
- clean up and repaint parts of the interior
- re-fit the vinyl roof section on the cab
- replace the diagonal rear axle/torque tube rods
- fettle things, check brakes and so on
With a bit of luck I'll not be distracted too much by other vehicles, and the little 10hp Ford will see the road again later this year sometime. However a four wheeled distraction will be coming along in months to come, after I engaged in a minor bidding war for an unusual machine on a certain online auction site. Despite some last second counter bidding from other enthusiasts, I won the day, and am in the process of arranging collection and delivery via an acquaintance of mine. The only slight complication is that the vehicle in question is on the other side of the world, so it'll be an exciting day when it gets here later this year. The plan is to find a second vehicle, perhaps for a pal of mine, then we can share a container and the shipping costs. The full story of importing this old motor will follow sometime in the future.
Practical Classics.
Back in January I spent a chilly morning with a couple of fellas from Practical Classics magazine. They were preparing an article on the hoarding tendencies of obsessed old-vehicle owners, and for some reason wanted to have a chat. Several hours were spent photographing me and the dog, as the latter tried his best to knock over cameras, lighting units, and just about everything else within range of his barrel-like frame. Various stories were relayed, and a cup or two of tea downed while the cameraman did his bit.
I had thought that it would be two or three months before the article would appear in print, but I was surprised that it appeared in the April 06 issue, so off to the local post office I went, and bought a copy or two of the mag. The first of the three serial collectors was a chap who has an epic collection of Renaults. Not just old Renaults, but almost anything from the Renault factory. Most interesting was a photo of a rather nice early Alpine A110 competition car. The next obsessive collector was a guy in Liverpool with a tendency to collect Triumph Dolomites. Over the page was my moment in the spotlight, with yours truly perched on the front bumper of the Dodge clutching a cup of tea in one hand, and an increasingly bored mutt in the other.
A few of my old jalopies got a mention, including a tale about the A40 Somerset I owned a few years ago.
I'd been having problems getting the A40 to run properly once warmed up, and I'd replaced just about everything in the ignition system. Finally, amazingly, it seemed to run ok. I'd also cured a slight overheating problem (from memory the radiator was blocked). My joy at finally getting the thing reliable was brought to an abrupt halt one day while driving through Hartford, near Northwich in Cheshire.
This was the first test run that had been undertaken without the engine either conking out or boiling away to itself, so I was feeling pretty chuffed, at least until the back wheel came off. The errant rim decided to make a bid for freedom just as I was traversing a neatly re-tarmac'd bridge in the village. A crunching sound and the swift drop of the rear passenger corner into the fresh asphalt, caught my attention somewhat, and the old Austin slithered to a halt, leaving a fine gouge along the fresh road surface. For some reason, one or two rear wheelnuts had worked their way off, immediately followed by the wheel which had inconveniently lodged itself firmly under the rear wing.
As usual I'd gone out with few tools on board, so my ever patient other half was summoned to come over, after digging out a jack and some pieces of wood from the garage. While waiting her arrival, we (several passers-by had volunteered their services) set off to find the wheelnuts. The owner of the house nearest my immobile Austin County car came out to see what the problem was, and offered me the wheelnuts from his wife's Metro if it'd help get me mobile again (which was jolly nice of him). As it was we all managed to track down the mischievous wheelnuts. Er indoors arrived on the scene shortly after, with various jacks, wedges and such like in the back of her car. Getting the car up in the air wasn't too much of a problem, despite the n/s/r brake drum propping the corner of the car up. Much more awkward was retrieving the wheel from its position, lodged right at the back of the wheelarch. With the problem wheel finally freed up, it didn't take long to get it back on the hub and supporting the car once more. The wheelnuts were gingerly re-tightened (the threads looked quite worn) and a slow journey back home ensued.
The A40 went to a new home later in the year, and was replaced with a little Ford-powered Ashley.
|
