Is it the last Caterham? We’ll soon find out

Saturday will see me ferrying my farmer friend Henry down to Heybridge to look at a Lotus Caterham 7 40th anniversary model, with a twist. It was possibly the last one ever made. Now, call me an old cynic, but I don’t think there is a chance in hell that this is true, but I will be taking him down there nonetheless  to check it out, ascertain vin numbers etc etc and other boring car nerd stuff, and then head on home for lunch and investigative stuff.

Unfortunately, due to a computer blow up at rally decal headquarters in Peldon, no more graphics will be added on saturday or sunday, so, alas, they will have to wait. I have had a great but equally tiring week at work, so I’m not overly fussed. Suffice it to say that if it is true, and it is the last Caterham ever  built, Henry will jolly well owe me a drink. Which he never finds difficult, as he has a dedicated fridge full of the stuff. In the meantime, here’s a pic of what we’re going to see.

Caterham 7 £14k and it’s yours sir.

 

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Sunglasses for winter….

You know that winter sun is evil, so I bought some new sunshades for me. Well, not for me exactly, but the last time I went to work I almost had my retinas burnt out by the lowering autumn sun at 7.15am, so sunstrips went on the car today, to avoid driving straight into a ditch fifty yards from home. The two-piece fitting started with the base blue layer, then the logos were added afterwards, white on the back, yellow on the front.

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Sunstrip front

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Next week the final touches will make the car complete with the addition of all the necessary rally add-ons from the 2003 Monte Carlo rally, with Makinen and Lindstrom in the number 8 Impreza, following their win the previous year. So, if all goes according to plan, next week the car should be looking a little like this……

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The fat lady isn’t in the dressing room yet…….

I know. It should be over by now. But it’s not. A day off  last friday, during which I ran out of time to complete, with Paul at 64 Deluxe, the side graphics for the car, meant that the extra stuff had to be done by yours truly if the weather ever relented on sunday, which it did. Eventually. After an inflamed gum which means that I haven’t eaten since friday night, chloroseptic was administered and I felt slightly better in the mouth department, so once it had stopped raining I set about finishing some bits off which Paul had left me to do. and the potted version is here..

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Burghley. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again……

International, 5 star, three day event competitions have suddenly made me realise something I didn’t know about people before I went today. Their look.

Yes, the way people look was crystallised into full focus for all to see today at the 2nd of the UK’s big 3 day International Horse Show events (Badminton being the first) for jolly good and honest, and, (let’s not deny it), talented horses. But horses, lest we not forget it, play a rather tiny and inconsequential second violin to the leaders of this extraordinary human orchestra, led by the never-aging, marvellously Burberry, Dubarry, and pink-corduroys-for men clad human beings who are collectively known as ‘The Haves’, who used to be from a place called the ‘nice bits’ of England, and still are. However, their nice saturday afternoons have been hijacked  by ‘others‘.

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Now the ‘haves‘ do not recognise the rest of the population in the way that the ‘have nots‘ recognise them; indeed, the have nots don’t even exist, not worthy of their focus they are so lofty in their position. Loud and assertive, the Range-Rovered inheritant-ees lord it seamlessly in their back yard, like sprawling packs of wildebeest on the South African velte. Sitting atop their magnificent vehicles gazing at their be-Barboured offspring and correct surroundings which befit their presence on their saturday ‘off’ from the city, they neither judge nor jape. They simply ‘look good’. And this is the point I’m making. The reason these people look good is because, in part, to do with breeding, in part, to do with money, and in part to do with luck. All the ‘grandmothers of 80 look 50, all the kids don’t care, but are sort of bored because being at ‘Burlers’ takes away from their time with Estoufade’, their spanish pony just bought for their birthday, and all the young guns have bought ‘Jonesy’ or some other delightfully named polo-shirt be-decked girl with a tan which didn’t start indoors and who actually really can afford the LUDICROUS fashion items which she wears. Which, although the rest of his don’t know it, actually are in fashion.

But the fact remains; we need the ‘haves’. Without them, we’d lose half of the comedy routines this country’s have-nots currently base their set lists on.

Just saying’…………

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The Goodwood Revival, and why you must go.

Simple. If you like fashion from the fifties  to the ‘now-ies’, and cars in general, but more specifically, up to 1970-ish, then you have to go. ‘Tis the law. It celebrates everything that was good about the old days; when decent beer would cost 1/6d, petrol didn’t prevent the mortgage from being paid that month, and decent English toffs married child-bearing hip owning ‘gels’ who ‘came-out‘ and did the season in London after returning from finishing school in Switzerland.   It’ll cost you, or somebody you know, a fortune, so make sure you don’t take any form of English money, or any other sort, frankly. Go to the Goodwood shop and buy a raffishly marvellous hat, or anything with ‘Goodwood’ written on it, add 500% mark up, spot the merchandise bags flowing leaf-like in autumn around the paddock, and you’ve got an idea of how rich Lord March actually is, apart from the fact that he owns most of Sussex. Hurrah! And it’s awfully bad form to actually buy tickets for the Revival. If you’re going to go, you must, simply MUST, be invited. If you are properly invited, you’ll get to see the pre-Revival cricket match, see around the Rolls-Royce factory just down the road, and go to parts of the paddock which the cattle class simply aren’t let in to.

This is what happened when I was invited in 2009. It wasn’t typical, either.
Taken from the inside of my Police Mini Cooper S, I was given the hilarious task of chasing Rowan Atkinson in his one and only live appearance as Mr Bean, after having led 50 of the most famous minis in the world ever assembled in the same place around the Goodwood track.For three days(not non-stop you buffoon). And the Veuve Cliquot just kept coming.

Go, get the other half to spend their savings, and have the most colourful day of your life. Forget everything and drink it all in, it’s over in a flash.

 

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