Great pic!

After only a week or so of occasional use, the day had finally arrived when the car would be taken on a proper shakedown drive, all 480 miles of it, to the west coast of Scotland and back.

I was a little apprehensive at first as I’d rather have given it more time to allow any post rebuild niggles to surface in order to correct them, but a family wedding up in Drummore (the most southerly tip of Scotland) set the pace.

So far the only real snag that I’d had with the car was the wavering speedo needle that had been caused by a poorly manufactured cable. The squared end of the cable had been made slightly too small, so that it turned and slipped, turned and slipped in the back of the speedo, creating a wildly gyrating needle which was itself accompanied by an annoying clicking noise. For the duration of the trip then the speedo was disconnected, leaving me to guess my approximate speed through towns and villages, but no big deal - I’ll source a better quality replacement cable shortly.

The car was loaded up with luggage and a three tier wedding cake was placed in the boot. Now I know what you’re thinking, “That’ll be a single tier wedding cake by Preston”, and those were my thoughts exactly, but Mrs Nail insisted that all would be well and I had not to worry. Given that I am merely the ‘impulsive hot-headed’ one of the relationship, and she the ‘brains’, I said no more about it.

I don’t use sat nav, so Mrs Nail was handed a large scale map, and given the task of navigator, although to be honest the route to Stranraer consists of only two main roads the M6 and the A75. I joined the M6 for the upward slog shortly after 10 a.m. Friday, the traffic was fairly light and all seemed well with the car. I had metaphorical crossed fingers that we would make it to Scotland without major incident for several reasons, not least that any breakdown would be seen as a failure to do a ‘proper job’ of the rebuild on my part.

It was while mulling over the possible taunts and unspoken hilarity from friends which would no doubt have accompanied a massive failure (friends eh?) that the first heart stopping moment of the trip arrived. I’m in the middle lane of the M6 travelling uphill while attempting to overtake a large and heavily laden tipper lorry of some sort, as I draw level with it the noise and vibration of the heavily laden wagon drowns out our own engine noise when suddenly I lose all power.

I can’t hear if my own motor is still running due to the noisy truck, I know that I’m losing speed so I do what most of us would in this situation – I press the accelerator to see if I get any power, and I’m greeted with a sound that will haunt me for the rest of my days. Now some folk are not big on mechanical sympathy, but I am, and to hear the valves bouncing wildly as the engine revved to terminal velocity wasn’t what I wanted to hear just five miles into my journey!

For some reason, possibly my own fault in performing a sloppy gear change which was somehow aided and abetted by the vibrations emanating from the hard working diesel beside me, the 2cv had slipped out of top gear, and the racket caused by the adjacent lorry meant that I couldn’t hear if the engine had stalled or not....I pressed the accelerator...it hadn’t!

I was lucky. The engine ran normally and after I slotted the car back in gear both the truck, and the horror were left behind. The engine in this car was built by M.W.R. in London, it’s always been a surprisingly quick car and whatever they did to it to make it rev so well without causing damage certainly saved my blushes on this occasion.

The rest of the run up was fairly uneventful, the car was quiet and smooth and ran beautifully, I began to amuse myself by playing with the ‘roll on, roll off’ nature of the heavy flywheel which allows you to ride the torque on a minimal throttle opening, while still maintaining a fair speed. As we approached Scotland I began to look for the inevitable leaden grey clouds that have always accompanied my visits, the skies were instead a sort of kiddie paint box blue, very encouraging.

The A75 from Gretna out to Stranraer is plagued with HGV’s heading to and from the Ferry terminal, it’s hard to overtake on what is for the most part a single lane each way road, so I settled down to a lazy (estimated) 55 -60 mph and for the next 100 miles or so just went with the flow.

The bright sunshine while very welcome, was also very hot, which caused something of a dilemma. Following the coast meant that the road we were on was quite breezy, yet inside the car my navigator reported that she thought it was too stuffy and needed to open the vent. The vent was opened slightly, and we were greeted with a rush of fresh air and a howling screech the like of which I’ve not heard since the last AC/DC concert. Because of my new found quietness inside the car the din from the open vent flap seems out of proportion, so I closed the vent, settling for a quiet but overly warm interior.



As we approached Drummore I almost missed the side turning, noticing it at the last moment and at too high speed I slammed on hard and ‘hooned’ it round the corner good style, I’m sure my door handle almost touched the floor!

Err...I bet you’d forgotten that I had a three tier wedding cake in the boot hadn’t you? Well I had forgotten even if you hadn’t.



Above: The navigator smiles, obviously she has forgotten about the cake too.

The coast near Drummore is fantastic, with its empty beaches and picture postcard stone cottages all painted white, it really is a nice place to visit, and shortly after we arrived at our destination. There followed a day or two roaming the craggy coastline of the mull of Galloway, where the cliff edges are unfenced, and totally incompatible with the strong gusts of wind ready to carry you over. In those conditions a person would have to be very silly indeed to approach the cliff edge, were you would find yourself looking down or whirling gulls and crashing waves, so here are some photo's I took so you don't have too!



Above: The rugged Scottish west coast, and the equally rugged Citroen 2cv.



The cliff shown in the previous pic having climbed over the wall. See the bit of ground in the foreground? That's the cliff edge. Wanna know what it looks like if you put your head over the edge? (below)



Closer?... To give you some idea of the scale of this thing note the sea gull perched on the tip of the craggy outcrop!



I’ll not bore you with the wedding bit only to say that it was perhaps the best ‘do’ I’ve ever attended. For those so inclined there was drinking , singing and good natured highland dancing well into the night, and more importantly the locals were very welcoming and friendly to a man.

I’ll post part two tomorrow detailing the far from uneventful return.

Wonderful write-up and photos, Old Nail. Please keep them coming.

Great write up Did you go anywhere near Portpatrick?

I didn’t get as far up as that James, preferring to stick to the Luce bay area which is absolutely beautiful.



Above: View from the Church.

The church on a hill where the wedding took place was an amazing setting, and much to my surprise, and despite my driving antics the wedding cake I had placed in the boot had survived intact! I also noticed that this being a ‘Scottish’ wedding there were numerous blokes wandering about in kilts, and playing bagpipes. Why do they do that I wonder? Yes, I know it’s the national costume of the Scots, but can you imagine attending an English wedding where several Morris dancers were inexplicably mingling with the guests?



Above: The Cake survived!

On the night before our return, at about 4a.m. a storm blew in. Now I’m a townie, so I think I saw a storm in 1987 when Seven Oaks in Kent became one oak overnight, but this storm nearly had me building an ark. Force seven I believe, whatever that is, and properly, properly, pissing down! It went on all night, the roofs were rattling, the windows shook, and the poor old Bluebamboo was stood outside bearing the full force of the deluge. For hours the wind howled and the rain poured – sideways. I was listening to the storm while lying in bed semi awake, and although under the covers I could have sworn that the storm was actually raging inside our cabin, I then popped my head above the covers to find that it was, Mrs Nail having opened the window slightly to avoid it ‘getting stuffy’ again! Aargh!



Above: Mrs Nail and her sister show their appreciation of Bagpipe music.

Early next morning I approached the car with some trepidation. My initial thought was of how pleased I was that the roof was still in place, I expected it to be in tatters so fierce was the storm, and so exposed the location. My next thought was to wonder how deep the puddle would be in the footwell? I opened the door half expecting the worst..... nothing! Bone dry, Whoo-hoo! Not even a drip. There was just a damp patch on the upper fabric of driver’s door card due to rain being driven under the closed window by the wind and seeping over the lip on the door.

Having loaded up the car and said our goodbyes we were ready for the off, I had visions of rain water having been driven everywhere by the force of the storm resulting in poor starting but no choke, first turn of the key and away we went. The conditions were better than they had been in the night, but still very rainy with the occasional squally showers.

The ride back was spoiled by the constant high winds, which blew the little Citroen in every direction. It has to be said that my least favourite thing about a 2cv’s is driving one in a strong wind, and these weren’t just strong winds they were severe gales. The day before I had been watching as the wind made waves and patterns on the surface of the surrounding cornfields , the corn danced and swayed as the wind swept across it, making the corn heads appear to shift like waves. Well now it was doing it with the rain, which came down in swirling curtains, each one lashing at the windscreen with some force, while the wind pushed the cart his way and that, at times holding it back just like an unseen hand pushing on the bonnet.

During this period the lack of vision, the constantly bouncing around, and a foot flat to the floor to achieve just 40mph or so was very wearying on the driver, the navigator however had fallen fast asleep after ten miles. After a hundred and twenty miles of unrelenting battering I pulled in to a fuel station. I filled up and bought a chocolate bar each, but what I really wanted was a coffee, so with Kit Kat ungraciously stuck in my mouth, we pressed on.

Down the M6 and the wind had still not abated, this was bollocks, and despite the large quillery steering wheel being ideal for controlling the car’s wanderings I had a burning pain in my neck muscles, in part due to craning my neck to see through the rain, and no doubt also due to hanging on for dear life. By the time we were just past Southwiate services we were just an hour and a half or so from home, but rather than keep going I decided that there would be a well earned coffee break at the next services we reached.

Another one of those unexplained anomalies is the ability of wind to always seem to blow against the direction you are travelling in. I had just travelled over a hundred miles straight into the teeth of a savage gale, but was now heading south, and yes you guessed it, still into the wind! The strength of the wind was really taking its toll now, on both driver and machine, with fuel consumption at an undreamt of high, using four gallons to travel a mere one hundred and twenty miles.

It was a thankful crew that pulled in at Teebay services where a cup of coffee and a small slice of cake each filled a gap, and the Ten pounds thirty that it cost emptied one. It was nice to have some respite from the constant wind roar that we had endured since we set out that morning, and happily the rain had now stopped.

Fed, watered, and ready for the final leg of our journey we set out once again, we had travelled about two miles when the rain returned, and then Mrs Nail began frantically looking around the car’s interior. I asked what was the matter and was informed that the brains of the outfit had left her bag and purse on the chair in the service area.

A range of possibilities ran through my head, not least that it would have gone already, but I needed to turn around and go back in order to find out. Is there anything more agonising than having to travel ten miles or more in the opposite direction to where you need to be urgently, only to have to turn around and travel that same ten miles back? We couldn’t even phone forward as her phone, purse, cards, cash and assorted other bits were now hanging casually from the back of a chair several miles away.

To cut a long story short we got back and the bag was returned, I then set off in the correct direction, once more battling the wind over the same stretch of motorway that I thought I had put behind me. We finally arrived home after five hours and seemingly running on just petrol fumes. The fly spattered 2cv sat on the driveway nonchalantly pinging as it cooled...what remarkable little cars they are!

i was just skimming through your post,

you did a pretty amazing job on the car well done!

what compresser did you use on the spray gun, how powerful etc (and price if possible!)
and where did you get that cool looking spray gun and where did you get your compresser from?
sorry to bombard you with aload of stupid questions but looks like your kit was the dogs bollocks!
i need a compresser and spray gun for doing odd bits, and also compressed air for many things!

did you use any laquer (spelling!) on your car?

i realisitly need to respray my wings and bonnet, there not to bad, but could do with a good rub back and a re spray to rid the small blemishes in them!

thanks for the tips etc,

Hi James. The compressor was bought cheaply from Aldi, or as in the case of the guns off ebay.
Netto or Lidl supermarket (I forget which) are currently offering a 50 litre compressor plus guns for around £70.00 which is hard to beat.

You don't need expensive kit to do the odd paint job, just take your time and you'll get good results.

Cellulose lacquer is also available from ebay or other motor factors, it's very easy to use but not as durable as 2 pack and scratches easily. Unlike 2 pack though, it won't kill you when using it in a small enclosed garage.

Very good story.
Congratulations, we see that the car has been very well rebuilded.
What beautiful places! In some photos it seems that will appear Doc Martin (the TV serie's character).

Nah! Doc Martin is filmed in Port Isaac, Cornwall, not too far from where I'm living now as it happens. Whereas O-N's footage is not a million miles from where I originally came from - t'other side of the country (or, a different country altogether, depending on your view...)


(Yes, very similar coastlines )

I'm getting bored.

I'm in an awkward situation at the moment as I might be moving house again later this year, and if that happens then I can't start the project I've been mulling over. I've given quite a bit of thought as to what I want to do next car wise.



Given that personally I'm never still, never satisfied, and never not thinking of, or looking for 'the next thing' on the horizon, I've mentally run through a list of 'possibles' over the last few months. I'd quite like a Panhard Dyna/Pl17, and yet I would be equally happy to take on a Simca Aronde A90, or a Renault juvaquattre, along with a host of more conventional 1950's British saloons.



The problem with that, if indeed it is to be described as such, is that I would have to sell my own 2cv to fund the new build, and once completed I would then be 2cv-less for the first time in ten years.

The alternative is to build the 2cv I have always wanted, the one I would like to keep indefinitely, and as Citroen didn't make it, then perhaps I should build it. I'm talking here about a hybrid vehicle which comprises of the following components.

SLC chassis. - For a car that will be a 'keeper' I will naturally want the best chassis under it.

Dyane spec running gear. - In the same way that most folk put the M28 motor in an older car, I want the slight extra oomph that the Dyane set up provides, including the heavy flywheel and taller top gear.

1964 Body shell. Pre-'65 four light shell for a couple of reasons, firstly I like the four light design, and secondly I want suicide doors on my dream chariot. In addition to this, the 1964-ish bodyshells have the small but useful conventional dash panel with speedo, and use electric wipers so none of that running off the speedo' cable nonsense. I'll also want it to remain left hand drive if possible.





Ripple bonnet. This is another reason why Citroen never made the car that I want as ripple bonnets were phased out around 1960/61. This would be complimented by a narrowed headlamp bar and the old tell-tale type lamp units.



Front Bench seat



A nice fat comfy bench seat sits high on my list of priorities.

2-pack paint. - Something that I wasn't able to do on my car due to the highly toxic nature of the paint, but I hope to manage it on the next one! I'm not sure of the preferred colour just yet, it may be non Citroen, but it will be classy.

slotted Ami wheels. Subtle, yet worthwhile modification for looks alone.
So I end up with a practical, useable car, with modern as you like steering and suspension, with 12v electrics and a tough 2 pack finish, but losing nothing (in my mind) of it's 1950's classic car appeal.

So that's what is running through the Old-nails head at the moment, if only I was settled I could begin collecting the bits but until I know what the future holds it remains as my 'next big idea'.