Sunday 24 January 2016

The Aesthete undergoes a cleansing

The Aesthete's Fleet
Despite the fact that Italian engineers loved to design beautifully ribbed aluminium castings, many manufacturers bought in their steering boxes from other makers. This explains why your Alfa Romeo, Ferrari or Maserati has a British designed Burman steering box with all its attendant woes. The car on which I am currently at work suffered a typical failure with a nasty looking crack in the casing, ready to spill its contents on the road and possibly kill its driver. The lubricant had all escaped and was somehow replaced by water which had left a visible tide mark of rust on bearings and other internal parts. This at least explained the crunching action of this once precision instrument, as though it had ingested a broken bottle. Oh, and the cleansing took place in the workshop. You need a clean workbench for that sort of thing.


1958 Volkswagen 1300. Early Beetles have not joined their split window Kombi bedmates in their fetishistic rise to 100+K values. Seeing as no owner uses a Kombi for any practical load carrying purpose any more, the handiness of a saloon should count for something. This one has some extra volts to tickle the sleepy electrical system and the interior looks resplendent in two tone vinyl.

For: Wir fahr'n fahr'n fahr'n auf der autobahn as Kraftwerk once put it.
Against: No, you can't call it Ringo because it is a funny looking old Beetle.
Investment potential: 3/10 but should do better.


1967 Volkswagen Kombi. QED. I wonder if this seller is testing the market with his swingeing $120,000 reserve? Restoration costs are not to be treated lightly with a challenging combination of sheet metal and chassis to contend with so the economics may be justifiable while the Kombi bubble stays inflated. Perhaps this is not the time to get on the whirligig though. Go and see The Big Short if you want an economics lesson on the perils of financial instruments, delivered by Neighbours star Margot Robbie from her bath tub.

For: The black tulip of commercial vehicles.
Against: You spent how much on what?!
Investment potential: I am still reading the biography of Maynard Keynes so I will tell you when I have finished.


1947 Rover Sixteen. Like Alvis, Rover cunningly concealed the sporting nature of its postwar saloons under a rather frumpy six light body. Inside, an elegant and comprehensive instrument panel and a short floor mounted gear lever no doubt encouraged its chartered accountant owners to find a nice back road on the way to evening vespers and give the car its head.

For: There is work to do here but these are surprisingly good on the road.
Against: More than a few weekend's worth of work, sadly.
Investment potential: 2/10. You would not do it for a quick profit, that is for certain.


1962 Daimler Majestic Major. When Jaguar acquired Daimler in 1960 it got Edward Turner's two cleverly designed V8 engines along with the Majestic saloon. Fitting the larger of the two alloy units into the favourite transport of Sussex funeral directors turned it into a wood panelled rocket ship that easily outran the new Jaguar Mk10.  It needed stabiliser wheels for those pesky new roundabouts but could do 120mph in the length of The Mall.

For: If you want your cortège to proceed through town at that sort of speed, here is your car.
Against: Nothing that I can see. A stunning bargain actually.
Investment potential: 8/10 and hilarious into the bargain.


1992 Mitsuoka Le Seyde. I know another aesthete in Wellington whose fingers will be all aflutter over the buy now button when he sees this for it is none other than the legendary Mitsuoka Le Seyde. I can do nothing more than to quote from a Japanese website dedicated to these peerless creations.
Enjoy the car. It is not enjoying themselves? While fondling engine run. Just rub it to be a happy feeling. That's one car, one, with the value of the car as I have. Alone, a pleasure to meet people who exist only because the car is good. Somewhere to go, but it is intended to run there will be a good car. Run from it is immersive, show scenes from the drivers seat, the sound coming to be honest.
For: While fondling engine run. Who would not want to?
Against: Don't worry. I will wake up soon and it will all be over.
Investment potential: Oh, considerable I am sure.

This week's mystery Italian.



1964 Autobianchi Bianchina 'Eden Roc' Cabriolet. Mark Stockdale correctly identified this week's mystery Italian as an Autobianchi but another reader helpfully pointed out how easy it is to get Google to do the work by getting it to search for the origin of the image. I disapprove of this egregious subterfuge and will be taking steps to close off this loophole.

For: Cute as a pound puppy.
Against: Possibly not for driving to Queenstown unless you already live in Queenstown.
Investment potential: 4/10. Small is good.











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4 comments:

  1. That's a very cute Autobianchi Bianchina cabriolet, based on the Fiat 500.

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  2. Surely a gentleman of Mark's calibre would never stoop to such underhand tactics.
    But then again he did used to have the lobby security camera in his apartment block wired through the big-screen TV in his lounge...

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  3. The Autobianchi Bianchina looks like a Hillman Minx convertible for Rabbits. And (its gets worse) any one who pays over $6grand for a kombi of any sort, needs to first drive a Toyota Estima for a week. Some times Japanese mediocratity is better... except for the Mitsuoka Le Seyde (What no lonesome alfa this week needing only thin fettling?) But oh the Daimler Majestic Major! How gorgeous is that? Had I but known that such things wondered the earth when I was a young boy racer?

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  4. Re the Mitsuoka , the outrageous exterior appeals in a way ( just don't park it in my drive ) but for the driver such a bland blah,blah,blah interior,on the other hand looking at the Daimler interior would be a treat , I know because I worked in a Daimler dealer and these cars would come in (owned by little old ladies of both genders ) needing a tune up and it was my job to sit in it with my foot on the gas until a big cloud of blackish smoke came out the back -- job done done, sort of a stationary Italian tune up.

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