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The World. As seen by Ceri.


worldofceri

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On 6/19/2020 at 8:56 PM, somewhatfoolish said:

@Inspector MoroseWhat flavour of P4 is it? Duo-tone is for winners.

'The Sideboard' is probably the sole remaining 1956 Rover 60, with the 2-litre inlet-over-exhaust Land-Rover engine.  Same power (60bhp) as my old 205 diesel, amusingly.

Lovely old thing.  WOULD.  But can't ☹️

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Nice diary.

I'm glad you've managed to get your business of the ground from first principles, very well done.

I'm sorry the quotes I asked from you came to nothing in the end, but if I ever need anything shifting I know where I'm going to ask first!

To be honest, I've heard all good things in terms of value proposition of the Kia Sorento. And it looks badass in black with that fuck-off big trailer, especially with the Cab Star on it!

Keep it coming!

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  • 2 weeks later...
6 hours ago, 808 Estate said:

I presume the tacho is needed because of the all up train weight?

Yes, the Sorento is plated at 6.1t train weight!  You're supposed to have a tacho for commercial use over 3.5t but checks are rare and many don't bother.  There are lots of exemptions however.

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2 hours ago, worldofceri said:

You're supposed to have a tacho for commercial use over 3.5t but checks are rare and many don't bother.

I've never understood why the need for a tacho depends on mgw/train weight.  The chap who picked up the 1800 I've just sold with a 3.5t truck said he'd have done nearly 600 miles that day by the time he dropped it off, with four stops around the country to load/unload but probably no decent stop for rest.

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  • 4 months later...

July 2018.

My friend, ‘Lightning’ McNedin, has a 1967 Austin Healey Sprite, which she occasionally uses for classic regularity rallies.  In fact, I popped my navigator’s cherry the previous year when we competed in the HERO Challenge.  We had entered the same event for 2018, but first ‘Suzy’ Sprite needed a new clutch.  Lightning’s garage of choice is a well known rally prep specialist in Bedfordshire, but the problem is she lives in Neath and Suzy wasn’t really up to the 180 mile trip  I’d said I’d take Suzy over for the price of diesel if I picked up a job taking me within striking distance of South Wales.

So, three Shiply jobs got strung together, and while I still wasn’t in Wales, it’d be close enough.

First was a load of thirteen pallet racking uprights.  Picked them up early doors from a farm unit near Market Bosworth and took them over to Walsall.

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A couple of lads had loaded their van up with the cross members for the racking and were going to follow me down and assemble the racking for their customer.  Turned out to be a back street manufacturing enterprise specialising in tartan doggy beds and sundry other chintzy poochy paraphernalia. 

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I was there in good time and I helped the owner carry the uprights into his storeroom, piled high as it was with upholstery stuffing.  For a moment, I wondered if I’d been stitched up, as I’d unloaded the goods but the lads who were supposed to be paying me were still nowhere to be seen.  But I was wrong to be concerned as they turned up shortly; All was well and I was away to the next job in good time.

Job number two was just down the road in Sutton Coldfield.  A 1946 Rover P2.  It was an old chap’s project but he’d sadly passed away well before seeing it completed.  His widow showed me to the car, which was on hardstanding behind their ‘30s semi and accessible via a narrow access road.  Bless her, she gamely assisted me push it out into the entry, as I wouldn’t have been able to manage it on my own, especially as the car had no brakes.  Luckily the tyres held air, so it was no drama to winch on to the trailer.  Next problem was that none of the doors, bootlid or bonnet had any latches on them, so they all had to be secured individually with straps.  There was also a spare gearbox that had to be strapped to the trailer.  I was there well over an hour making sure everything was secure, with the seller providing moral support and glasses of water, as it was sweaty work on a warm July morning.

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Presently I set off for the car’s destination in the Cotswolds.  I pulled up before reaching the M6 at junction 5 to check the integrity of my strapping.  A car pulled alongside as I was getting out:  Hey mate, do you know you lost something back there off the roof?  The roof? What!?! No, I didn’t, but err… thanks.  On inspection, it appeared that the car had a canvas roof insert that had seemingly flipped right out.  FFS!  I’d spent ages tying every conceivable part of the car together but never thought to check the roof.  I had no choice but to retrace my journey and see it I could find it.  I had to go back a reasonable way, perhaps a couple of miles, but it was easy to spot, at the side of the road, and thankfully didn’t appear to have been run over.  It went in the back of the Sorento for the rest of the journey.  I’m indebted to the people who took the trouble to stop and let me know!

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The rest of the trip went without incident and there was plenty of space to roll the car off outside the new owner’s workshop.  His intention was to restore the car and I reckon me may have done so;  As I write, the DVLA data suggests the car is taxed rather than sorned, and has changed hands earlier this year.  No mot like, of course.

Departing Oxfordshire, I headed for the third job of the day down in the Forest of Dean. 

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A chap was evicting his son’s dead Toyota MR2 from his garage.  His son had only moved round the corner in the same town but they didn’t want to risk trying to drive it, and anyway, it had been refusing to start.  However, to the chap’s surprise it did fire up when he tried it, so I was able to drive it onto the trailer under it’s own power.  To be honest, if I was them, I’d have probably just driven it up the road at a quiet time of day like early Sunday morning or whatever, but I was happy to take their cash and do it the legal way for them!

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All of which left me within spitting distance of South Wales, so by early evening I’d made it to Lightning’s parents’ house near Neath.  Managed – just – to back the trailer onto the drive for security.  Her dad insisted on taking us out for dinner, and I spent a comfortable night on their settee.

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July 2018.

Early the following morning I loaded up ‘Suzy’ Sprite for her trip over to Bedfordshire.  Battery was flat and getting jump leads to her was going to be a faff, so the winch was employed.  Forgot to take a photo until I stopped for fuel just prior to joining the M4.

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Suzy is unusual as she’s fitted with a period Lenham flip-front conversion.  Gives her rather a manic grin but it’s quite endearing, I suppose. She doesn’t weigh a lot and I hardly knew the trailer was there; our destination was quickly achieved.

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With Suzy Sprite in safe hands I headed off to the next Shiply job:  A decrepit vintage caravan in Southam.  The seller, Pete, was a very helpful chap and turned out to be another transporter owner-driver, running a single 3.5t truck.  We swapped business cards, thinking we might be able to help each other out in future.

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He roped in his wisecracking mate to help get the caravan on the trailer.  Wasn’t quite as straightforward as I’d hoped, but the banter made it enjoyable work, and once on, the weight distribution was OK.  The ‘van really was falling to pieces but Pete pulled out a massive roll of gaffer tape and went round sticking copious amounts over all the loose doors and windows.  One thing I’d never before noticed about old caravans is that, like this one, they often have a door on both sides.

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Although Southam is only a few miles from home, I’d decided to turn around and head straight for the caravan’s destination on the south coast, near Bognor Regis.

This meant having a night out in the car.  I had in mind a Shell garage down on the A27 as a potential place to stop; if I remembered rightly from doing a run down that way for DHL, there was plenty of parking, but no charge for overnight stays.  I reached it by early evening and was pleased to nab the last space alongside a row of lorries.  This was a bit of a result as I wouldn’t be too worried about security with the trailer hemmed in overnight by artics.  Unfortunately, said trucks were mostly foreign and about five drivers came along and played cards noisily in the empty trailer next to me until the early hours.

First thing the following morning I delivered the caravan to a farm unit near Bognor.  A couple had an apparently thriving business renovating vintage caravans – all gingham curtains and Kath Kidston cushions and what not.  Not everyone’s taste but they were very well done from what I could see, and they had loads kicking about in various stages of restoration.  I asked if this one was earmarked for spares, given the state of it but, apparently, it was to be restored. Not a task for the feint at heart, but they obviously had the experience and skills to do it.

On the way home I had another Shiply job to collect.  This time a VW bay window camper, from just north of Swindon.  The buyer had been told it ran, but it did not, so it had to be pushed out onto the road from where I could winch it onto the trailer. 

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I took this one home overnight and delivered to Sheffield the following day.  The guy was a bit nonplussed to discover it did not run, as his drive was up a steep slope.  But he was happy for me to leave it on the road as he was confident he’d be able to get it going.

The final job of the week was collecting this early V6 Rover 75. 

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Had been stood for a couple of years but understandably desirable to a serious Rover licker. 

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Happily it seems to be on the road now as it was mot’d in May this year, albeit with hardly any mileage added since 2015.

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47 minutes ago, Jamie said:

kin ell a mk2 MR2 cab! Rare indeed, 

bet @Out Run will have the horn

The Spider isn’t for me. But they are a very rare thing and have always been strong money.

I did read the thread with interest, when I saw it was a non-runner and had been kicked out of a garage, mind. 
 

I like mine with forced induction and strong Widow Maker tendencies.

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July 2018.

So, I had a couple of bites on Shiply, but the customers were prevaricating about the bush a bit.  Stringing a couple of jobs together enabled me to drop the prices a touch to get them to commit.

First was a trip to a plant auction in Barnsley to collect a little all-terrain forklift.  Took it down to the buyers in Harefield, Middlesex. 

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From there I headed over to Farnborough. Another caravan that couldn’t be towed.  It was described as an Eriba lightweight caravan so I thought it would be pretty small but it turned out to be the largest model that Eriba make.  The couple were despatching the ‘van all the way up to Norfolk to be repaired.  It clearly had a twisted a-frame but other than that looked more or less OK. 

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I didn’t find out until I delivered it the following day that it had actually been flipped on it’s side.  So that explained why the owners were so nervy when I got there.  They were friendly enough, and helpful, but rather overbearing as I worked.  Perhaps understandable as they’d been in what must have been a pretty scary incident.  But it was bloody awkward getting it on the trailer to be honest and their demeanour did not help.  They were basically obsessed with the prospect of it falling off the trailer.  You are going to tie it on aren’t you? What are you going to tie it down with?  Are you sure you’ve used enough straps?  Do you want me to engage the motor-mover to stop it moving around? 

No, it’s absolutely fine as it is;  The wheel straps will prevent it moving fore and aft and it’s cross strapped over the a-frame to stop it twisting.  But with the motor mover engaged it can’t move at all.  It’s not moving at all as it is, sir. But are you sure…?  OK.  Fine!  And we fucked about for another fifteen minutes while he described how the bloody motor mover worked.

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Eventually, feeling very hot and bothered, I got on my way.  The handling was far from ideal as I hadn’t really been able to draw the ‘van far enough forward to get the weight distribution right.  It felt bloody heavy for a ‘lightweight’ caravan with a lot of weight behind the axle.  Not really surprised it ended up on it’s side.

I was not going to reach Norfolk by the close of business so another night out was on the cards.  I decided to aim for Red Lodge Truck Stop on the A11.  Never actually stopped there before but it’s well known so I figured worth a shot.  It was shit.  The lorry park has two foot deep pot holes and the café was gross.  I sat and nursed a coffee with bluebottles buzzing round my ears.  I didn’t bother paying for my parking

The following morning I headed off early intending to get to the delivery address as they opened.

Barrelling up the A11 I happened to glance in the nearside mirror to see what looked like a tyre cartwheeling off towards the verge. It looked like it came from the trailer, but it was still handling fine…  Perhaps I’d run over something; but I hadn’t seen anything.  Perhaps I’d better pull over and have a quick check.

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Oh. Bugger.

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With uncharacteristic forethought, I had actually made sure that I was carrying a wheel wrench that would fit the trailer wheel nuts.  And the Sorento comes with a fairly nifty bottle jack as standard.

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Thus, the wheel was swiftly changed at the side of the road.

With disaster averted, I delivered the ‘van to an engineering company somewhere near Norwich.  They didn’t seem to have any speciality in repairing caravans so why it had been shipped all the way up to them I don’t know.  But at least they were much more easy going than the owners;  Just roll it off over there mate. 

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I was glad to get rid of it and the experience certainly put me off taking on similar jobs in future.

The next collection just down the road in Beccles.  This time much more straightforward.  A tidy BMW E30 – a 325 in fact. 

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It was low mileage but had been off the road for a number of years. The seller had sadly resigned to the fact that ill health was going to prevent him doing anything with it.

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I brought it back to Coventry for the new owner, a young Romanian chap.

One final quick job for the week was this 1966 Mustang. 

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Looked mega smart; I was bloody terrified of damaging that paintwork, especially as we had to push it out of one narrow garage and into another.  It’s currently showing as taxed so hopefully another one that’s made it back to the road.

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I recently did a few weeks for a company here in Rainham pulling cable winches and cable drum frame trailers. I had an Isuzu 4x4 pickup truck - an 18 plate - to do the pulling with. However, I went in one day to be presented with a trailer identical to yours, but not the same make, with 2 - 30 ton cable drum frames on it with associated gubbins. The gubbins were bottle jacks, levers etc etc. But there were also 2 spindles that go through the drum. They looked like torpedos but were probably heavier. The frames were huge and made of solid iron (I think). I had to take them to Willenhall in the West Midlands. To cut a long story short, what followed was the scariest journey I've ever driven, and prior to that I'd been driving artics for 43 years. I didn't think anything would faze me.  As soon as I approached anything like 50 mph, the bugger started fishtailing, so the journey was sedate to say the least. I think every HGV in the UK and beyond overtook me. The whole thing scared the shite out of me. Coming back with the empty trailer was a different story.

When I got back I told the lads how scared shitless I'd been, but they told me I wouldn't see them again for a good while. Bollocks, one week later, I was presented with the trailer again, and asked to go and get the frames back. I think the return journey was scarier than the first. I never, ever want to do that again.

So, the moral of the story WoC, is, if ever you're offered the job of transporting these cable drum frames, give them a big FRO.

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August 2018.

One of the motivators for going self employed was the opportunity to take control of my time off.

In my previous job I’d had to book all my annual leave in September for the following calendar year:  Up to fifteen months in advance.  And even then, I was wasn’t guaranteed to get it all approved.  Absolutely unacceptable.  Might be understandable in, say, the military or the fire service or something, but I was a class 2 lorry driver for goodness sake, with no particularly uncommon experience or skills.  A global, multinational company were basically saying they couldn’t effectively plan for, or maintain enough spare personnel capacity to allow more than ten per cent of their drivers to have any one day off.  Pathetic. 

A camping holiday in Cornwall had been booked since before I’d even started this escapade, so I was determined to take the time off.  Problem was, I no longer had any paid holiday, and I hadn’t exactly flat out in my first seven week’s trading , so it was a bit of a struggle.  Over the fortnight I managed to book in a handful of jobs so at least I had something to go back to.

The first was this Freelander from Silverlake Salvage near Southampton.  This was my inaugural visit to one of these salvage places.  I was unaware that everything is lifted by forklift even if the auction description says ‘starts and drives for loading’.  But it does at least make loading quicker and easier, with no messing about with jump packs and what not.

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The customer was the chap from whom I collected the Discovery from last month, way up in the Peak District.  Remember I met an artic lorry on one of the single track lanes and had to reverse about 500 yards?  Yeah, my reversing abilities got tested again!  I don’t think the Freelander went back on the road, the chap wanted it for some apparently rare interior trim or something.

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***

I got a call from Raz the Fireman: Could I recover a Chevrolet Cruze with a borked auto box?

At the unlucky Chevy owner’s house near Luton, I had a bit of a game actually getting the thing off his drive.  It ran OK but had no drive, and the two of us pushing could only rock it back and forth a bit.  For a while I was convinced it was not shifting out of park.  Bit of inexperience here, as I would now know (at least in theory) how to release an automatic that was stuck in park, but at the time I didn’t.  I considered dragging the car out onto the road with the Kia, but I was worried about ending up with it sideways across the pavement or something, with no way to either get it on the trailer or get it back onto the drive.

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After faffing about for a bit I found that it did in fact have just enough torque going to the wheels to get it moving;  Once it had cleared the first little bump over the threshold, it drove onto the trailer with no issue.  Delivered it to Raz’s garage in Birmingham and that was it for the day.

***

The following day was a Shiply job, commencing in Banbury.  Triumph Spitfire with suspected head gasket failure was to be taken to a specialist for repair.

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Moments after taking this photo I noticed a massive – and I mean massive – dog shit on the grass verge near the trailer.  Lucky I didn’t tread in that, I thought.  Wait a minute...  Of course I’d trodden in it.  And worse than that I had it literally half way up my leg.

Fortunately, I had a spare pair of trainers in the car, but no other change of clothes.  I had to drive to the nearby Tesco and, looking like a complete lunatic with my jeans rolled up to the knees to hide the excrement, purchased a new pair of shorts.  I changed in the toilets and delivered the Triumph to the Buckinghamshire-based garage without further incident.

***

On the way back I had a short job up in Hinckley.  Audi A4 Allroad with some sort of gearbox malady to be recovered from the owner’s house to a nearby garage.

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  • 8 months later...
1 hour ago, 808 Estate said:

This thread needs a bump start. :D

True.  Herewith, further tales from the past:

August 2018.

Another week, another bunch of bids entered on Shiply.  I picked up a job to collect a Range Rover Sport from a dealer in Nelson, Lancs, to be brought down to Leicestershire.  The delivery address was on an ordinary modern estate of small and medium sized houses but, incongruously, the car was a five year old top of the range supercharged V8.

Waiting at the dealership for the salesman to shuffle the paperwork, he commented: Apparently he’s a film director, the chap that’s buying this car.  Is he?  I’d no idea, I’d never heard the name.  Had to have a quick Google before hitting the road, and it seems it was true.  Three or four films to his credit and a whole bunch of commercials.  Fair play.

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He’d sent the dealer a pair of number plates with his private reg on, to put on the car.  But they wouldn’t because they hadn’t seen the registration document.  The salesman explained he’d stuck the old plates on loosely, and would I be able to swap them over on the way down?  Err, I suppose so…  The private reg was a good one, incidentally, and probably worth as much as the car, perhaps more! But, sadly, I promised not to divulge it on the interweb.

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The RR Sport is a flippin’ heavy thing and plummeting down the M65 was a mite hair raising, inexperienced such as I still was.  But the Sorento took it in it’s stride, as ever, and I soon relaxed as I got used to the dynamics of the extra weight.

***

The following day, I headed over to Anglesey for another big-engined car.  This one a 1987 Bentley Eight.  This was going to be my longest trip to date, as it was headed for Colchester, Essex.

The seller of the car was a charming gentleman and retired hotelier.  He invited me in while he sorted out the paperwork.  His wife plied me with coffee and biscuits whilst I marvelled at the fantastic view across the Menai Strait from his conservatory.  Very civilised.

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Slightly less civilised was the car, which began to deposit coolant on the trailer as I loaded up.  Probably just a split hose, we surmised.  I’m sure the buyer will be philosophical about such a minor unexpected issue, I said.

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The Bentley is a big car, but still more stable on the trailer than the Range Rover.  I took it home overnight and down to Colchester the following morning.

 

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August 2018.

The next two jobs were a lesson in why not to offer ‘backload’ prices on Shiply.  I had a Citroen Picasso to take up to Oldham, which I planned to do on the way to pick up the Range Rover, and a Skoda to take over to West Wales, planned as an outbound job when picking up the Bentley.   For various reasons dates couldn’t be aligned, so to make the best of the situation, I headed out to do the Picasso and the Skoda on the same (long) day.

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An early start saw me collect the Octavia from a main dealer near Cannock and a pleasant drive over to the west coast, to an independent garage near Caernarfon.

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Heading back towards England, I the Citroen was to be collected from a private address in Mold.  The guy had bought the car a couple of weeks prior, from a bomb-site car dealer in Oldham.  Due to developing sundry electrical problems the dealer had agreed to accept the car back. 

Regrettably, in my haste to reach the pick-up point, I managed to run into the back of someone entering a roundabout.  Classic case of three lanes of traffic going for a gap, except the one ditherer in front of me who hits the brakes.  Flippin’ facepalm. 

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There didn’t seem to be a lot of damage from the Sorento-Polo interface, so I didn’t expect any comeback.  Unfortunately the older lady in the (leased) VW was on first name terms with the staff at the main dealer’s bodyshop, and she took it straight round for a quote.  Turned out there was genuinely a bit of damage to the bumper (of the sort that an ASer would not even notice in ten years of ownership). 

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Following a week or so of wrangling, I persuaded her to let me send round a smart-repair chap who halved the cost of the fix.  I wasn’t going to involve my insurance at this point in my career, but it certainly wiped out my profit for the week.

Anyway, back to the Picasso, which I was warned may be a non starter.  Luckily it did start, but I made sure to leave the (auto) gearbox in neutral and the (electric) handbrake off when on the trailer – I wasn’t about to risk not being able to roll it off again.  Four 5 ton straps will hold a car solid on the bed, no bother!  Not many photos of this one due to my flusterment following the preceding rta.

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When I eventually reached Oldham, the car started fine and everything worked perfectly, so I beat a hasty retreat whilst the lads scratched their heads over why the vehicle had been sent back to them.

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