:: Diary - October 2025 ::

:: Friday, 3 October 2025 ::

Collected the exhaust from the MOT guy on Wednesday - he's done a good job of welding up that crack so that it won't leak, and is stronger than the rest of the exhaust now! And only £20...

I couldn't refit it though, because I needed to refit the manifold first, and the new gaskets didn't arrive until half-way through yesterday. I suppose that I could have got fired into it later in the afternoon, but I had a sudden attack of canny-be-arsed with additional symptoms of lazybastarditis.

So today I refit the manifold gaskets to the studs, and then tighten up the manifold to the engine.

Then I can refit the repaired centre box and tail pipe, and tighten and adjust it all into place. That sounds easier than it was, but once it's all in place, I start it up and check the whole system for leaks. I haven't taken any photos because how many photos of exhaust pipes do you want?

I don't take the car out to test it though, because there's a monsoon starting. I'll leave it until it's dry (which might be April).

:: Wednesday, 8 October 2025 ::

Didn't take the TVR to the club meeting on Sunday - I just didn't feel like it. Dave and Eric had a wee run first though.

I've had a full car-tinkering day today though. First was servicing Mrs Git's VW Beetle. It's a 2001 model with only 50,000 miles on the clock, and it's a nice wee drive. It's a 2.0 litre so it can move! So I print out a service schedule of all the items to be addressed, and spend the morning on that. Oil and filter change, new air filter, check loads of things, usual stuff.

Then after lunchtime, I turn to the Vixen. I want to check the ignition timing, I think it might be too far advanced, and then far too over-advanced at higher revs. A quick check with the timing light confirms that it's about 18 degrees befor top dead centre. It should be 14 degrees. I loosen the distributor, start the car again and set it up to 14 degress, and then tighten everything back up. And then check it again.

A wee test drive confirns that it seems to be running better and starting better. It's also a lot quiter without any exhaust leaks!

There's another job - after our chippy run to Whitby last weekend, I'm convinced that the headlights are aimed too high - I just screwed them in when I rebuilt the front end, but didn't adjust them at all!

I remove the headlight rings and then park the car about 25 feet from the garage door. My drive slopes up from the road, then levels out past the house and then drops down slightly to the garage door. How tro make sure that I'm on a level bit?

Last Christmas, I got a builders laser level from Secret Santaa, so I set that up beside the car on a wee tripod, and then push the car backwards and forwards a wee bit until the green line is just above the front and back wheel rims. It's level AND it's around 25 feet from the garage! Perfect!

Then I lift the level up to the height of the centre of the headlight...

and project a level line on to the garage door. Then I mark that with tape, and then, using the lines of blocks in the drive, mark the centres of the headlights with 2 more bits of tape.

Then I have to wait until it gets dark enough to see the headlight aim... which here in sunny Scotland, even in October, is just after 6 pm.

Lights on, I adjust the dipped beam so that the beam pattern intersects just a couple of inches below those tape marks - which is indeed a good bit lower than they were. Main beam is centred dead on the marks. Should be perfect!

:: Friday, 17 October 2025 ::

I haven't done much with either TVR over the past week. I've started the process of closing down my wee consultancy company and finally retiring, so that has been occupying a lot of my time.

I did go out on Monday for a short drive in the Vixen, just to check that the engine was running better with the adjusted ignition timing, and that the exhaust wasn't leaking. When I got back, though, I could hear a wee "blow" which turned out to be the centre exhaust flange at the manifold / cylinder head joint. All it needed was a bit more tightening.

I tried it again today and it's brilliant! It's running much better, even when cold, and pulls away more smoothly from a stop.

There still seems to be a bit of diff backlash though, so I'll see to that over the winter.

In the meantime, I have decided to add some "how-to" articles on the Vixen, to add to the series of S3C articles on the website. So far, I've added "how to repair rear brakes" and "how to fart about with fuel gauges and senders and breather systems", with "how to replace the bonnet" currently under preparation.

:: Wednesday, 22 October 2025 ::

How can that be a year already since Jim's passing?

Yesterday was spent in contemplation, and a quiet toast later.

Tonight, we visited a local cafe for a wee dinner and then ice cream floats. Jim did love an ice cream float, so he did!

:: Friday, 24 October 2025 ::

I decided to check how the Vixen's heater works, and found the answer - it doesn't! The earlier Vixen's had a two-knob system - one for heat, one for distribution, using the same knobs (as far as I can see) from the early chome-bumper MGBs. The later Vixens (and MGBs) had a one-knob system. In mine, the knob doesn't seem to do very much... The markings on the knob have faded so badly that you can't see where "hot" and ~"~cold" are anyway.

The knob moves a cable that turns a water valve on the inlet manifold. The cable is out of adjustment, so the valve isn't opening fully, so I get that sorted. Then, once I have warmed up the engine, I can turn the knob until I can feel heat, then back to cold. I might change the knob for a new one (if I can get the old one off) but in the meantime, I mark it with wee blobs of paint - 1 blob for cold, 4 for hot.

:: Saturday, 25 October 2025 ::

I need to get something off my chest. It's a trivial thing, and not worth getting upset about, but somehow it really grinds my gears... English!

No, not "The English" (people) so despised by the blue-face-painted saltire-waving "freedum-fighter" brigade, but the use of the English language. Every day, my Facebook page is awash with random posts by people I don't even know, that I don't even understand. "Oo dis parked in ma street an ma gate blocked so I says to him he park sumware else but no he comes back agen u no and I cant get in I mean its no ard izzit?"

I know that the use of language evolves, but what has happened to us? William Shakespeare would be turning in his grave... So, in honour of old Bill, I have attempted to compose today's entry in his style.

This morning, afternoon and evening,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
Life is but a tale,
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

And yet, as this day dawns,
an early rainbow, signifying a moment's pleasure,
and promising a day of weather fair.
The wife with a lengthy morning appointment
so perchance a day to partake alone
in the Spirit of Driving.

From her garage lair the Vixen emerges,
red and low and quietly growling,
a few moments warming,
and then off into the bright crisp morning,
the neighbours in likelihood
disturb'd by her passing.

If this engine note be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that ear-bursting racket.
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
Sweeter now than it was before,
the exhaust hole plugged,
the timing of spark adjusted,
That it alone is high fantastical.

These violent delights too soon must end,
and soon homeward we must return,
both vehicle and driver in search of fuel,
to be consumed in prolonging these mortal pleasures.

But wait! What light through yonder windscreen breaks?
Beaming brightly red, it bids us wait,
our turn in the cycle of life,
and of traffic signals.
The queue is joined, only one precedes,
These moments pass in quiet reflection
upon the virtues and vicissitudes of life.

All too soon, the amber lamp of readiness shines,
to be replaced by the green light of progress,
and through delicate balance of feet and hand,
controls adjusted to perfection,
we may be off! But yet, be still awhile,
for the vehicle in front remains at ease,
its driver perhaps distracted by phone text,
or by the scanty-clad maiden on yon far corner,
or some other unworthy cause.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
All have their trials and their tribulations;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
for who among us hath not been so distracted,
that he has hesitated in driving off?

And so, absent of judgment, we wait with patience,
quietly ready in hand and foot,
Until from behind, we hear the sound,
of a horn of warning, used in frustration,
which tempers not the situation,
but merely inflames it, the driver ahead,
his eyes mirror'd, glares at me for this intrusion
and swiftly moves ahead.

Leaving it upon me to reflect,
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
As I complete the last few yards to the Vixen's den,
for the fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,
Who speaks an infinite deal of nothing.

There, now, isn't that much clearer?

---

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