Lea-Francis

I notice that the new Nissan electric vehicle is being called the 'Leaf' which sounds all nice and tree-huggy green. This new car will be built in Nissan's Smyrna, Tennessee assembly plant. What's that got to with a blog about the British car scene? Not much, actually, but the Leaf name reminded me of the British Lea-Francis marque, affectionately referred to as 'LeaF' by its enthusiasts.

The Lea-Francis marque is one of the many that didn't stand the test of time. The firm came out of the partnership of Richard Henry Lea and Graham Ingoldsby Francis in 1895 and was based in Coventry. Lea-Francis was known for some pretty hot cars in the prewar era, carrying model names such as Hyper (Britain's first supercharged production car) and Ace of Spades.

Lea-Francis was a respectable competitor to the likes of Jaguar especially in the post war period when they produced a range of upscale sports cars and fine saloons.

The Lea-Francis automotive concern ceased trading in 1963.

1929 Austin Parked Since 1961 - Starts on the First Crank!

The Daily Telegraph is reporting that an Austin 12/4 fabric bodied saloon was started for the first time in five decades on one turn of the crank handle:

The fabric-bodied motor was owned by Mr Bulled’s late father, Leslie, who had been given it by his parents when it was brand new and straight off the forecourt.

Mr Bulled, 63, said he discovered the old car whilst going through his father’s possessions shortly after his death in 2008.

He was too frightened to start the engine up fully in case it ruined the car, but is now putting it up for sale to allow an expert to restore it fully and hopefully get it onto the road.

He said: “I pumped up the tyres and they stayed up. The rubber is cracked but the inner tubes are obviously still intact, which is remarkable really.

"And the engine turned over when we tried it with the starter handle, but I didn't try to start her up in case I did any damage but I'm sure it would go.

Link to the rest of the article

BBC Photo

The View from Within

I haven't put up a YouTube video in sometime, but this one is worth watching. It's the view from inside a four stroke engine cylinder during operation. Enjoy!

The Official SABCC Mugs & Motors Coffee Mug

OK, SABCC'ers - you said that you enjoyed our infrequent Mugs & Motors sessions so we'll be planning a few more in the near future.

In the meantime, why don't you head over to the SABCC Swag site and order one of the new 15 ounce ceramic mugs with the official Mugs & Motors logo? Your coffee will taste much better and you'll be twice as cool as you were before you bought your mug!

A Stag Joins the Party

SABCC member Stuart Waddington announced at the last club meeting that he was the successful bidder for a 1972 Triumph Stag. This 73,000 mile car spent its life in the western US. I had the opportunity to see the car this evening - just a few hours after it was dropped off by the car hauler.

It appears to be a solid, honest car - one that Stuart should be able to renovate easily and make a fine stablemate to his award-winning MGB. The Triumph V8 sounds awesome.

Look for it at an event near you!

Another Great New Orleans British Car Day

Once again, the more intrepid members of the South Alabama British Car Club made the trek to New Orleans to attend the British Car Day sponsored by British Motoring Club New Orleans.

For me, the day began early. The club was meeting at the I10- Government Street interchange to assemble our little caravan for the trip over. Since I was riding shotgun with Mike Darby in his Jaguar 240, he dropped by my house at 5:45 to pick me up. Richard Cunningham decided that he would leave his Jaguar XJS at home this year, it being a victim of an undiagnosed transmission fluid leak. He accepted Mike's invitation to ride with us. We met the rest of the gang at gathering spot and set out before sunrise.

The British car contingent included Stewart Waddington (MGB), Chris Cronk (MGB) and Michael King (Jaguar XJS). We had several escorts in non-British iron, they bringing things like the new club shelter, banners, tables, chairs, etc. Along the way, we picked up our club president, Noel Eagleson, since he struck out on his from his home in the western part of Mobile county.

The group made great progress and soon we were in Louisiana, taking advantage of the newly renovated welcome center just across the state line. We saddled up and steeled ourselves for the New Orleans traffic that lay ahead. Thankfully, the group kept up a quick pace and was able to stay together for the trip to Delgado Community College.

A certain three SABCC'ers in a Jaguar 240 decided that we should have some morning nourishment and peeled off at a McDonald's in Slidell for biscuits and coffee. Once we had our fill of caffeine and carbs we, too headed off towards the Big Easy. We arrived at the show site and found that the new pop up shelter had already been popped up and the members were staking out places under it. Mike got his photo made and took his place on the field with only one other Jaguar saloon.

I took the opportunity to browse the show field and was impressed with the quality and variety of the cars present. The organizers welcomed three Deloreans, a handful of Rolls Royces and Bentleys, along with a very large field of MGBs, TR6s and MG T-Series cars. We also met SABCC'ers Ken McElhaney (MGB) and Bill Silhan (Aston Martin DB6) who came separately to the event.

As always, the folks of BMCNO ran a tight ship. Organization was top-notch and the show site was perfect.

As the day wore on, it became apparent that the we would be lucky if we managed to dodge rain in the afternoon. We had several periods of sprinkles during the prize giving ceremony but it didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the attendees.

SABCC once again made out well with trophies going to every SABCC car registered with the notable exception of our steed. It seems that BMCNO decided that classes with only two cars would have one trophy awarded. Too bad for Mike Darby, but then he's not given to arm-twisting for votes. He's content to let his cars speak for themselves.

With clouds gathering, we bid our New Orleans friends adieu and headed for Alabama. Several SABCC members elected to take advantage of some of the fine eateries in New Orleans and delayed their return home. Our car pointed its nose towards the Portable City and home.

Outside New Orleans, Mike asked if I would help with the driving chores. Has a toad got warts? Are flounders flat? Do wild bears - -oh, never mind. I gathered up all the cool I could muster and tried to keep from snatching the keys from Mike's hand.

I settled into the right hand seat and immediately enjoyed the smooth, torquey XK power. The 43-year old car pulled strongly and kept up with the east New Orleans traffic with grace and style. I maintained a 70MPH cruise (with occasional forays into the low 80s) and soon found us in Mississippi.

And a rain shower.

The old Jag's windscreen wipers were well up to the task and we didn't slow our pace. While cruising the left lane, we came upon Ron Wolverton and Becky Kramer following Noel Ealgeson. We gave them a pip on the hooter and passed them by.

We passed through the rain and found ourselves hungry (again) so we stopped in Gulfport at a chain eatery. Don Pritchett joined our group for dinner and we enjoyed a good meal and fine conversation.

And the rain caught up to us.

Mike wrestled the keys from me and drove back into Mobile. I enjoyed the ride in the left hand seat, secretly thankful that I wasn't driving this very special car in the downpour. We pressed on to my house in Spanish Fort where I was deposited. I had to watch as the fine Jaguar drove away in the rain, lit by the street lights in my neighborhood.

Thanks BMCNO for a great day!

The 'B Lives!

I couldn't make the Charity Classic Car Show at Christ United Methodist Church in Mobile as I had promised myself that I was going to find out what ailed the MGB. It would start and run but it would not idle - black smoke from rich running would pour from the hooligan exhaust and it would die. I ran the ailment past Mike Darby who suggested that I look at the carburetor needles and floats to see if a) a float wasn't floating or b) a needle was in the permanently open position.

I gang-pressed the ever helpful Richard Cunningham into helping me look over the old girl one more time. When he came by I had the K&N's off the carbs and was ready to open the float chambers. We opened the rear one and found everything as expected. We drank coffee and discussed the issue. Richard suggested that we re-assemble the carburetors and start it.

We did and it ran poorly. While I kept the throttle open Richard pulled off spark plug leads and discovered #3 was dead. He found that he could hold the lead slightly away from the missing plug and it would hit. The plug would fire when the spark jumped a gap from the lead to the plug.

A bad plug. A bad BRAND NEW plug. A bad BRAND NEW AC DELCO plug. I asked for Champion N9Ys and the store did not have them. They crossed it over to the AC Delco 'equivalent'. Mike asked us to let him know what we found, so Richard called him. Mike asked what brand spark plug was in the car and replied 'Well there you go", when he was told AC Delco.

Richard and I dropped in to the local O'Reilly auto parts store and got the real deal: Champion N9Ys. Upon installation the old girl repaid our kindness by running like a fine British sewing machine. Mike suggested that I put some miles on it just to make sure all was well.

I drove to Silverhill and dropped in on the Wizard himself. Mike gave it a quick look and pronounced it fit for duty. I came back home proud of the old girl and enjoying a beautiful day on the road.

Sunday dawned bright and clear and I took the 'B to Fairhope. I enjoyed the company of some friends there (where I was offered a chance to purchase a '67 MG Midget) and came back to Spanish Fort. My long-suffering wife was home after running errands and suggested that we take the car out again so she could enjoy the day, too. Back down to Fairhope for a walk and a cup of coffee. We made a couple of stops to pick up a few odds and ends on the way home with nary a hesitation out of the 'B (You will note that while the missus is in the car, I DO NOT use the term 'old girl' to refer to ANYTHING. Right).

All in all, there's about 100 miles on the car that it didn't have Saturday morning.

And I think I burned my bald spot in the sun today...

Talking to Computers

Unless you've been living under a rock, you will have heard about the woes of Toyota and complaints of 'unintended acceleration'. Tearful Toyota executives bow and apologize (sincerely, I believe) and work to repair the problem with accelerator pedals.

Essentially, what Toyota (and other automakers) have done is remove the direct connection between the driver's right foot and the throttle body (I almost said carburetor) and installed what might rightly be called a foot controlled mouse. You see, instead of directly opening or closing a throttle butterfly, modern gas pedals are wired to a computer that controls nearly every aspect of the car's operation. What the driver is doing is telling the computer to 'go faster' or 'slow down' based on the input of the accelerator.

My long-suffering spouse's MINI Cooper is built this way. In fact, even the power windows and headlights are routed through something called the body control module. There is a slightly-perceptible lag between the time the headlight switch is turned off and the headlights actually go out.

When I have the pleasure of driving my MGB or classic Mini I am assured that there is a real honest-to-God link between my right foot and the throttle of the engine (yep, a carburetor). If I have an 'unintended acceleration' event in one of them, I can pretty well bet that it is a broken return spring - not a computer that has decided to become HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey and take over control of my car.

But I imagine that there were articles written by grouchy old men decrying the advent of hydraulic brakes and the loss of directly-connected-to-the-pedal mechanical brakes.

Maybe I've become a grouchy old man.