By Jim Stapleton
Installment 1, meeting and her drinking problem.
I think it never was over, so it can't be said that it started when I decided to buy the French blue 1974 Triumph TR-6. She would certainly not be my first, but she would be the first of her kind in more than 20 years.
My love affair with Little British Cars had begun when I was 19 years old and got my first, a 1967 MGB that survived being my daily driver when I was in the Marine Corps and was "swooping" home to the NC mountains from my duty station at MCAS Cherry Point NC every chance I got. After a tour of beautiful Southeast Asia, I got out and found my next LBC, a 1973 Sapphire TR-6. This car was my driver when I met and courted my beautiful wife of 42 years, Laura. The year was 1975, and you could still buy a brand new TR-6 or an MGB. From this point, I owned several TR-6's, a few other LBCs, and finally was lured over to the dark side by the first in a long series of that iconic American sports car, the Corvette. After I sold my last TR-6 in 1999, I had even hung on to several boxes of spare parts from the eight of her sisters I had previously owned. Almost like holding on to old love letters.
I think the itch was rekindled when, several years ago, we bought a 1997 Jag XK-8 for my wife to drive. It was just enough to get me thinking about finding another TR-6. I began to look, and for almost a year, I checked eBay and craigslist sporadically, thinking I could find a bargain. No surprises, they are giving none away. When I saw the little blue TR-6, I felt a tug as I realized I had never owned a French Blue example, but had always liked the color. Enough other boxes were checked off my list by the comprehensive photos posted online, so I made arrangements to visit the car in Mooresville, NC. I was assured the car was ready for the 100 mile or so trip to get it home.
Upon arrival, the salesman informed me that he had taken the car for a trip around the block just to be sure all was well, and, well, all was not OK. We pushed it on the lift and I was able to get a good inspection of the crucial bits and pieces, liking what I was seeing. Afterward, I asked to try the car again, and, surprise, she starts and backs out of the shop, feeling tight. I start around the parking lot heading for the street, but she sputters and dies. No amount of coaxing will get her started again, so we push her into the shop and the salesman says: “we don't know what the problem is, but we will get it taken care of". Right.
Two weeks later, they still had not gotten the car to run, and I offered to buy it "as is", and bring a trailer to pick it up. A quick round of negotiations, and I bought the car for a steeply discounted price. The day I picked the car up was my daughter's birthday, February 27th. Very fitting, as the last TR-6 I had owned was sold after my daughter turned down my offer of the Java 1975 TR-6 as her 18th birthday gift. (a decision she says she regrets, frequently.)
A new fuel pump and filter, plus fresh gas, got "Lil Darlin" running again, and I was able to clock about 70 miles before she "ran out of gas" once more. Another round of filter, fuel pump, fuel line and another can of fuel stabilizer got results, but by now my wife had lost all enthusiasm for the little blue car, and was afraid to ride in her for fear of being stranded on the side of the road. This incarnation of the TR-6 story was not going well at all, but still I felt the undeniable joy of the TR-6 experience. When she was running, of course.
I had owned "Lil Darlin" for about two months when it dawned on me what the problem was. I had deserted my first love for the glamour and comfort of those Corvette convertibles. I had been flagrantly unfaithful, and now I was back, begging to be taken back and given another chance. Just one solution: I must prove myself, once again, to be worthy of these magnificent machines. I must diagnose, and cure, her drinking problem once and for all. Not find a LBC mechanic, no way. I must prevail, alone.
Clearer thinking now got me in the proper frame of mind, and I determined that it must be a fuel problem. I had changed the coil; the points, the condenser, the plugs and wires, and the above mentioned fuel pump, twice. Don't forget three fuel filters. I now suspect the fuel tank, but I want proof, so I invest in one of the little cameras on a stalk, with the hand-held view screen. About 80 bucks, available at your local tool store. The view was incredible.
You have likely seen the underwater shipwreck pictures of the Titanic, with those rust barnacles growing on every surface, and those tentacles of stuff floating there, waving at you in the darkness. The view of the inside of "Lil Darlin"’s fuel tank looked exactly like that. This told the tale. There was so much rust in the tank that I decided on the spot to replace the tank instead of trying to clean, etch, and re-coat the tank. The new tank arrived in less than a week, delivered from one of our main suppliers, complete with a new sending unit, and was surprisingly easy to install. I had replaced most of the fuel line already, so I blew out the disconnected lines, replaced the fuel filter again, filled the tank about a third full with ethanol-free gasoline, hooked up the new sending unit, and re-connected the battery. It was time for a trial run. A bit of choke, hit the starter, listen to the engine turning for about 10 seconds, and then, the sweet sound of the little six cylinder roaring to life, spitting a little, then smoothing out and settling in to the old familiar purr. Blip the throttle a little, and she responds instantly, revving easily and letting me know it's time to go. A short ride of about 10 miles on this red-letter day, but since then we have logged nearly 750 miles, trouble free and always making it back home safely.
Laura has now been won over, and in fact, she is the one who named "Lil Darlin". After one of our first rides with the new fuel tank, I was putting her away in the garage, saying: “sleep tight, Lil Darlin, we'll ride again soon." Laura said she was named on the spot. I have a plan for the winter which includes new shocks at all four corners, new suspension bushings, and, hopefully, a new paint job. I also plan to document some of the adventures with “Lil Darlin”, and do some reminiscing about her sisters through the years.
I should also mention that the quest for some of the first parts I needed led me to the wonderful folks at Catawba Valley British Motor Club, a really great club that is very active in planning events for the members. A very friendly and welcoming atmosphere greets you at each and every meeting, and the officers are all about leading the way to lots of LBC fun. And hey, they even said I could bring my 1998 Corvette sometime. As long as I don't make it a habit. They were joking. I think.
Thanks for reading, Jim Stapleton November 8, 2019
