Cars That Totally Refuse to Die
Posted: Sat Aug 07, 2021 6:11 pm
What about those brave soldiers that won't lay down?
I bought a 2.3Lx Granada (note the small "x" as this I believe was a dealer edition rather than LX proper) in 1994. It was just ten years old which is plenty old enough for a 1980s Ford.
At first it played a few tricks - overheated (new thermostat sorted that) and the sunroof jammed. I wasn't fucking about with that - cut the cable, inched it shut, jacked it closed and pinned a rebel flag across the headlining.
However, after a few long trips and weekends away it began to settle down but displayed a worrying tendency toward masochism. I never knew what it said to other cars but it was always getting twatted by them.
First time was outside a friend's Mum's council flat in the next town. Some cunt bounced off the rear door as they drove by, pushed the fucker right in and bent the rubbing strip. I pushed that out with some bits of old pallet, took the strip off and hammered it straight and called it a day.
A few weeks later, sat at a red light I could see an approaching Orion in my mirrors. He wasn't fucking looking and was doing about 50. I inched across the intersection against the red as far as I dared but he still walloped the arse of the Granny, properly pushed the back valance in and stoved the lights.
Orion just sat there, pissing coolant with a very sore face. He got out, only to find the bloke whose house lay by the roadside had let a fucking great dog out (he was across their gate) and added to his misery. I swopped details and drove home. Insurance bloke came out and I thought it was a write-off but he organised a Laguna hire car (thanks mate) and had it away for repairs.
I no sooner got the bastard back when another fuckwit had a go - down by the local car auction. A Volvo 740, desperate to get into the block before it died, just pulled across in front of me into the entrance and took the front wing out. Again, a nice man came out and gave me a Clio (what was with this Renner shit - nobody fucking buying them or summat?) and the Granny went off for repair. Two weeks and nothing had happened and I got a letter to say I was liable for rental on the Clio soon. Yeah, right. Up yours. I took the Clio to the repair place chucked them the keys and demanded my Granada back. Took it home, pushed the wing straight with my right foot, suitably booted, and replaced the front lights.
Now rather battered and with a completely smooth rear valence (didn't even try and scrape the panel lines in through the filler, cunts) I took it to Luton for a weekend away where some skanky smackhead did the back window and had my stereo away.
Fixed again, I'd had enough and fell for a 2.8 Ghia X that a bloke at work had for sale - metallic red, Scorpio wheels and something I'd always admired. I put the 2.3 up for sale without a bite. Christmas Eve I get a call (Free Ads back then, no t'internet) "Will it make it to Newcastle?"
Chap needed to see his kids and his car had been nicked. "It went to Harrogate last month" was the only guarantee I could give. He gives me £300 and fucks off.
Six months later, I'm sat at the lights in the "new" one and the old gold 2.3 pulls up. Not the same matey driving it but I did shout across and turns out he bought the bloody thing in Newcastle and drove it back down South to our home town! Bloody thing was like a homing pigeon....
I saw it several times after that, each time a little more battered, rusty and smoky but still breathing. A year or so later, I see it in a scrapyard out in Wiltshire and just have to turn round and check it out. It is in there for banger prep but the gaffer got a soft spot for it and was doing it up for the road. Last taxed in 1999 so something did eventually kill it but I bet it died bloody hard.
I bought a 2.3Lx Granada (note the small "x" as this I believe was a dealer edition rather than LX proper) in 1994. It was just ten years old which is plenty old enough for a 1980s Ford.
At first it played a few tricks - overheated (new thermostat sorted that) and the sunroof jammed. I wasn't fucking about with that - cut the cable, inched it shut, jacked it closed and pinned a rebel flag across the headlining.
However, after a few long trips and weekends away it began to settle down but displayed a worrying tendency toward masochism. I never knew what it said to other cars but it was always getting twatted by them.
First time was outside a friend's Mum's council flat in the next town. Some cunt bounced off the rear door as they drove by, pushed the fucker right in and bent the rubbing strip. I pushed that out with some bits of old pallet, took the strip off and hammered it straight and called it a day.
A few weeks later, sat at a red light I could see an approaching Orion in my mirrors. He wasn't fucking looking and was doing about 50. I inched across the intersection against the red as far as I dared but he still walloped the arse of the Granny, properly pushed the back valance in and stoved the lights.
Orion just sat there, pissing coolant with a very sore face. He got out, only to find the bloke whose house lay by the roadside had let a fucking great dog out (he was across their gate) and added to his misery. I swopped details and drove home. Insurance bloke came out and I thought it was a write-off but he organised a Laguna hire car (thanks mate) and had it away for repairs.
I no sooner got the bastard back when another fuckwit had a go - down by the local car auction. A Volvo 740, desperate to get into the block before it died, just pulled across in front of me into the entrance and took the front wing out. Again, a nice man came out and gave me a Clio (what was with this Renner shit - nobody fucking buying them or summat?) and the Granny went off for repair. Two weeks and nothing had happened and I got a letter to say I was liable for rental on the Clio soon. Yeah, right. Up yours. I took the Clio to the repair place chucked them the keys and demanded my Granada back. Took it home, pushed the wing straight with my right foot, suitably booted, and replaced the front lights.
Now rather battered and with a completely smooth rear valence (didn't even try and scrape the panel lines in through the filler, cunts) I took it to Luton for a weekend away where some skanky smackhead did the back window and had my stereo away.
Fixed again, I'd had enough and fell for a 2.8 Ghia X that a bloke at work had for sale - metallic red, Scorpio wheels and something I'd always admired. I put the 2.3 up for sale without a bite. Christmas Eve I get a call (Free Ads back then, no t'internet) "Will it make it to Newcastle?"
Chap needed to see his kids and his car had been nicked. "It went to Harrogate last month" was the only guarantee I could give. He gives me £300 and fucks off.
Six months later, I'm sat at the lights in the "new" one and the old gold 2.3 pulls up. Not the same matey driving it but I did shout across and turns out he bought the bloody thing in Newcastle and drove it back down South to our home town! Bloody thing was like a homing pigeon....
I saw it several times after that, each time a little more battered, rusty and smoky but still breathing. A year or so later, I see it in a scrapyard out in Wiltshire and just have to turn round and check it out. It is in there for banger prep but the gaffer got a soft spot for it and was doing it up for the road. Last taxed in 1999 so something did eventually kill it but I bet it died bloody hard.