Christmas in the Village Nov.25/07

Our late fall tour to Christmas In The Village of Gagetown was very enjoyable. The town was filled with the Christmas spirit and a large turnout of people.
After our shopping and admiring all the beautiful Christmas trimmings and crafts some of our group had to leave early. The remainder ended up at the Creek View Restaurant where we enjoyed a nice country meal.
Missing from the pictures are the Strangs and their friend, and the Alders and their daughter-in-law with their new 5 week old grandson.
All in all it was a fun day with good friends.
Jim & Ellie B.
Click on beautiful Ellie for a few more photos.

An Open Letter to the Alders from Bob Earl

Dear Sherry and Curry,
I have to be honest, even though I made all the proper sounding polite noises, I never really trusted you two. After all, you said you were British car enthusiasts, but you drove a new one--a NEW one! You just can't be considered a true aficionado unless you have some weird old car in your garage. Even if it doesn't run (they usually don't), it's enough just to have it and slowly work on it. New cars don't deliver that same sense of adventure ("What's going to break this time?") or humbling experience when being passed by Hondas and Toyotas.
Had I only known that deep down you were lusting after a truly classic LBC. With the arrival of your new (old) Healy I humbly apologize, and in an attempt to make amends I offer the experiences of thirty one years of LBC ownership to help soften the blow.
Air conditioning, power seats, automatic tops and transmissions, large trunks and effective heaters get in the way of the pure driving experience and are, of course, lacking in the true LBC. In their wisdom, the British manufacturers purposely kept the cars free of such embellishments lest they spoil the joy of the open road. This means however, that you're going to suffer. Unless you stick to driving in perfect weather and you can arrange to have the temperature remain at 24C, you're going to get cold/hot. Some say that it's not really a desire by the engineers to get the driver more involved with nature, rather it's their total inability to understand the concept of a heat exchanger. Oh they certainly put radiators and heater cores in the cars since everybody else did, but their hearts weren't really in it. The original designers where content to dissipate excess engine heat by having it operate one degree below that at which major engine damage would occur and shed the heat via the engine block and exhaust pipe. If you want to be warm when the temperature drops, leave off one of the firewall blanking panels into the passenger compartment. Along with the heat, this will acquaint you with another interesting LBC trait.
LBCs leak stuff--always. Engine oil leaking from the head gasket and oil pan is flung backwards to lubricate the transmission, driveshaft and differential. It also serves to rustproof the centre of the car. Oil leaking from the cam or rocker covers drips onto the exhaust manifold creating that oh-so-familiar smell. Oil and most other leaks can be tolerated, brake fluid loss should be investigated. One old trick is to wrap each brake line union with some toilet paper then go for a drive, using the brakes hard. This will leave a trail of oily toilet paper on the road enabling you to find your way home when the lights fail.
Oh, did I forget to mention the electrical systems? Lucas has built world renowned electrical components for aircraft for decades. Quality and reliability are finite quantities (unlike Internet porn or spam) so they take them from their automotive division to make sure the aircraft stuff works reasonably well. The only reason it's been tolerated for so many decades is out of National pride. When Triumph threatened to use Bosch components in the 70's, the factory was barricaded by incensed drivers who pelted it with brussel sprouts and pots of steak and kidney pie until the Triumph management relented. Always carry a flashlight (with Bosch bulbs and EverReady batteries). Sherrie can alternately illuminate the road and gauges as you drive home in the dark. Of course if the lights go it, the ignition system will probably be dead too. You can illuminate the buttons on Sherrie's cell phone as she calls the tow truck. Learn to pack light on road trips. This will mean a lot less stuff to carry onto the tow truck when it comes.
Buy a grease gun. No, NOT to grease the grease fittings! (what where you thinking?!) It has two REALLY important functions. When a brake piston seizes and refuses to budge no matter what, buy a couple of inexpensive fittings to adapt the end of the gun to the brake fitting. A few pumps of the handle will generate tremendous pressure and gently push the piston out (along with a huge glorp of grease). This is not nearly as much fun as using high pressure air and firing the piston at high speed across the garage and through a window but as I get older my appetite for 'fun' has waned. It's other function is to sit on top of the box with the Christmas decorations all year. When you crawl into the attic to retrieve the decorations you'll find that the residual pressure from the brake episode has v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y oozed most of the grease out of the not-quite-tight-enough filler cap and it has seeped into the box during the year and ruined a pile of treasured Christmas keepsakes and family mementos. Okay, you're right, that's not really what a grease gun is for, I just didn't want to be the only one who'd done that.
Maintaining an LBC is not going to lessen your chances of breakdowns. There's some weird karma/higher order thing going on with them and working on the car is entirely for your benefit only. It makes no difference to the car. What DOES help is getting her nice presents. LBCs like it when you buy lots of tacky marque memorabilia. Healy pins, travel mugs, t-shirts, and golf towels will demonstrate your admiration for your baby and (hopefully) keep her a tad more reliable.
With all that being said, there is one huge benefit to your fine LBC--it will stroke your ego like nothing else. On the open road you get to enjoy the raspy throaty sound of the engine as it rises and falls. There is an immediacy to driving her unlike you get from a normal car. It's motoring at it's purest. In town you forget all that and get to show off! Pedestrians will ask about the car when you're stopped at lights. People on the sidewalks will whip out their cell phones as you drive by so that they can take a picture (...really!). Even as they pass you on the four lane they'll gawk and give you a thumbs up. You are so much cooler at 90KPH than they are (in their normal boring car) at 120. And THAT is probably the best reason to have an LBC, Ferraris or Vettes might be faster and flashier, but an MG, TR-6 or Healy is just so much cooler. People will hate a Porsche driver as he passes, but everyone will grin and wave when your LBC rolls by.
Happy motoring and may all your breakdowns happen within pushing distance of Ian's place!
Bob

Report on FABAC meeting Wednesday Nov. 21st

Report On Nov. 21st Meeting at Dimitri's

27 Fellow FABACians turned out last evening for dinner and socializing.

Jim and Lorraine Woodford have graciously offered to host our FABAC Christmas party on Sunday Dec. 16th at 6:00 PM at their home at 159 Mactaquac Heights, Keswick Ridge.
This will be pot luck fare and the ladies put together a dish list to help Lorraine prepare for the feast.
We will hold a Yankee Swap with a gift limit of $10.00 for those who wish to participate.
Rules for the game may be viewed at http://www.weeno.com/art

Ho Ho Ho

Jim B.

An Interesting Invitation

A short time ago, I was asked if our club would like to participate in "a British Car Show August 8, 9, 10, 2008, on the site of the Bonar Law Historic Farm(Village of Rexton, NB). Andrew Bonar Law was the Prime Minister of Great Britain in 1922, the only person born outside the United Kingdom to achieve this distinction, so the British connection is very strong we feel this site will be an ideal location for a car show featuring British automobiles."

Check out their temporary site at http://www.michaeldunn.ca/NBBCS2008/
We can discuss this at our next meeting (Nov.21 at Dimitri's)

Adventures with Bob

Chapter 3, in which the Jag barely escapes getting gassed.

In the aerospace industry we are repeatedly reminded how seemingly unconnected events can gang up and together have dire consequences. My particular consequences hit this Saturday as storm clouds from the hurricane gathered over the river valley. They started, however, many weeks ago on the Trans Canada Trail in Burton.
It was a typical dark fall morning as I bumped and bounced over the trail heading to work.
My headlight made a skittering spot of light ahead which allowed me to avoid the rocks and puddles. One spot had been repaired over the summer but the passage of ATVs had torn it up leaving sharp edged, fist sized stones strewn about. I normally walked my bike the few metres over this spot since the sharp rocks had already slit two tires. Almost completely stopped, I swung my leg up to get off. The front wheel hit a low spot and jerked to a halt; my groin hit the can of bear spray mounted just behind the handlebars. It made only a brief "Phfsst!" but that was enough to create a small red cloud immediately in front of me. Still moving under my own momentum, I passed through it. I knew from many trips to the military gas hut to hold my breath and close my eyes. I'd never experienced the effects of bear spray and certainly didn't want to do so now. I walked forward a few metres until I felt that I was through it. Cautiously I opened my eyes and took a shallow breath.
The technique seemed to have work as I was able to breath. Even though I could smell the rancid cayenne, it wasn't strong enough to cause any distress so I got back on the bike and peddled the rest of the way to work. In the lights of the parking lot at the hanger I could see some liquid spray on the front of my bike. I figured that the rain would would eventually wash it off and thought no more of it. That evening I carefully washed everything I'd been wearing and perfunctorily hosed off the bike. It was quite oily and didn't really wash off. The next day I'd all but forgotten about the incident until I stepped into the shower after riding to work in the morning. My entire groin and upper thighs where covered in hives! I monitored the situation during the day and was relieved as they slowing subsided over the course of the day. I kept wondering what I'd eaten that would cause such a reaction. The next morning they where back. That's when I connected the bear spray incident! The damp air in the morning was picking up enough fumes from the oily spray residue on the bike to cause a reaction on my skin. That evening I vigorously scrubbed the entire bike with Castrol brand degreaser and (again) washed all my biking gear. This time it worked. The hives never re-occurred.
A few days later found the wife and myself getting the yard ready for winter. Over the past few years I've taken an interest in plants and enjoyed 'doing' gardening (under the wife's watchful eye of course). My set of (heavy!) metal car ramps were still sitting in the driveway and I'd decided to take them apart and use the metal to make a BIG set of axle stands. With Wife's able assistance, we lugged two of them into the garage and stacked them beside the Jag where I could start unbolting them at my leisure.
A week later and the ramps are still sitting beside the Jag, untouched. My good intentions
had been put on hold by the release of the next installment of my favourite computer game. Those darned alien brain sucking monsters where back and needed wiping out! It was getting a bit crowded in the garage and I was forced to lean my bike up against the ramps in order to get the Jag in and out. The can of bear spray was laying on top of the ramps where I'd left it after washing the bike and accessories (light, flasher, bear bell, bear spray holder).
Saturday was overcast and dreary but still warm enough that the salt trucks hadn't been out. I pushed my baby out, closed up the garage and headed out (via the scenic route) to the Freddy market for breakfast and shopping. Uncharacteristically, I left the top up. The combination of +4C temps, a brisk wind, and heavy clouds killed my usual enthusiasm for top down driving. Having the roof in place allowed me to hear all the buzzes and rattles that I'd never noticed when the top was down. Darn!, another item to add to my list of winter car projects, ..."item 56- find and eliminate many, many rattles from under bonnet."
I was a good two hours earlier than I normally am at the market and ran into a different set of folks than I usually do. The Russels where having their pick of fresh goods, and I stopped to chat with a few other friends who I rarely see at the market.
Arriving home, I tucked 'baby' away in the garage and moved my bike to lean against the stacked ramps in order to allow use of the side door. The weather had improved a bit and I ran a power cord out to the fountain to run it one last time before winter. As the day wore on and it warmed up, Wife came home early and we set about stacking pots and raking leaves. Even under the gathering storm clouds, the trickling water fountain made a nice sound. Soon, a few drops where felt and I knew it wouldn't be long before the sky opened up. I unplugged the fountain and rolled up the extension cord.
Leaning around the half open side door into the garage, I tossed the coiled cord and saw it land on top of bike accessories I'd neglected to re-install which where still piled on top of the car ramps which where STILL awaiting disassemble. The stage was now set. The bike leaned against the ramp and touched the coiled cord which lay across the trigger of the bear spray which was prevented from moving by the bike light battery bag which all lay on top of the car ramps. Walking towards the door with an armload of carwash buckets I pushed it a bit further open. The door hit the rear tire of the bike which rolled forward a couple of inches and pushed the coiled extension cord into the trigger on the can of bear spray which went PHFFFSSSFFFSSSSFFT!!!!", and kept going "PHFSSST!!" I suddenly realized what I'd just done. I dropped everything as the overpowering sensation sent me reeling backwards out of the garage! Through the window I could see a red spray impinging the large garage door. It lasted scant seconds but seemed like forever before the can issued it's last "Pfst!"! As thoughts of sleeping in a hotel for the next two years went through my head, I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath and headed in. Dancing over the now slippery cement floor and feeling my way around the Jag "No No, not my baby!" I went straight to the shelf in the far corner and opened one eye just enough to see where my painting respirator was hanging. Military training took hold and I slipped my chin into it, pulled the straps over my head, breathed out with everything I had and tentatively took a shallow breath. It could definitely smell the damn stuff and my eyes burned a little but it was bearable. I flipped on the lights and surveyed the damage. One side of the large garage door was covered in orangy-red spray and the mist was expanding as I watched. I quickly closed the door into the rest of the house and rolled open the car door. The wind cleared the mist quickly but I was now stuck with the task of cleaning a full can of sticky oily cayenne pepper spray off of the door, walls and floor of my garage. The spray had also hit my bike, the ramps, the pile of bike accessories, and my creeper hanging beside
the garage door. Mercifully, the Jag appeared to be unscathed. As I stood there cursing and swearing at my stupidity (and still wearing a full face respirator), I then noticed Wife standing a safe distance away laughing herself hoarse. Oh she'd pay for that...one of these days!
In between fits of giggling, Wife was kind enough to bring me every cleaning product we owned along with a couple pails of hot water. Bear spray is incredibly oily, gets everywhere, and is a bear to clean up. I scrubbed, hosed and washed for a good two hours before I could finally risk taking the mask off. My arms where a bright red from being in the contaminated wash water and I could feel the welt on my face from the mask. Thankfully the smell had not gone into the house. Dumping all my clothes and cleaning rags into the washing machine along with a half jug of detergent, I headed upstairs to the shower, ignoring the chuckling issuing from the kitchen where *someone* was making supper. The shower was a mixed blessing. Water seems to activate the pepper spray residue and I had to scrub myself with my eyes clamped tightly closed and breath through a wet face cloth. The shower has one of those single handle controls which has never worked properly. Going from scalding to freezing takes less than a millimetre of movement and it normally takes a few minutes of fiddling with the stupid thing to get the water temperature 'just so'. Explosive coughing fits made me bang into the knob with my flailing arms causing the water to go from scalding to freezing.
Like a warrior limping home from a lost battle I dragged myself into the dining room just in time for supper. I was lobster red from a combination of exposure to the spray and a vigorous scrubbing in scalding/freezing water. Wife made soothing and sympathetic noises as served me supper and a steaming cup of Earl Grey, but I could see the merriment in her eyes. This would make a great story at her work the following day.
...and the Jag you ask? Despite being right in the midst of the fun, she escaped with nary a drop on her scarlet paint. It seems that God not only protects drunks and small children, but old British roadsters as well.
...and me?...I just can't wait for the hives!

- Bob

And I thought Halloween was over!


Actually, this photo goes back two or three years to our regular PEI event. Mike Drury and James B. are in disguise as they have just presented a prize to a certain owner of a BMW. The prize (Triumph mudflaps) was from the awards dinner at the PEI car show. Good looking chaps aren't they.
(Thanks to Margot for "digging up" this item. ;-)