Diesel is for tractors

A friend, who happens to be my neighbour, my landlord and a work colleague has inherited something.

It was made in 1948, in England. Coventry to be precise. If it was the following year, it would have been Abingdon.

It has an engine, a petrol one. Its 1.5 (1496cc) makes an interesting noise and has character in abundance. I love the thing.

This is where things get interesting. Aforementioned friend wants to sell it. So, I thought, maybe someone here may be interested? At the very least, perhaps some of you reading this have never seen one before, so even that makes all this typing worthwhile I think.

The car was purchased from an enthuasiast in the UK. It had been restored there, which was undoubtedly a large factor in its purchase. The car was brought back to Ireland and brought a lot of smiles to the faces of all who saw her.  The car was garaged and well cared for up until the passing of the owner. Since, its been kept locked away, but thankfully, my love of all things automotive meant I was asked to help sell her.

First order of business was cleaning. Anyone who knows me, will attest to the fact that I spend longer cleaning a car than I would the entire house…..  well its more fun!? Then came the polishing. Following that, she was serviced by a local classic & vintage fanatic. Shortly afterward, I drove her to a local charity motoring event. Nobody bothered to tell me that the brakes worked in a glacial manner… After learning this, while simultaneously scaring the bejaysus out of another driver at the first roundabout, I realised that I would need to start braking about half a kilometer before some junctions. Thats not a joke. Nothing clinches the butt cheeks tighter than the possibility of becoming the hood ornament for a truck at a junction. After what was the slowest drive to Galway city, I arrived at the event and you know what… I loved the drive. Too often in modern cars a journey is a blur. No, I don’t mean that I’m travelling beyond the speed limit, but that things happen quick enough that you need to focus more. This journey allowed me time, time to enjoy the car. The smell, the noise, the smiles and waves from those who encountered us. Little design features, such as the winder on the dash that opens the drivers half of the windscreen, allowing some air in. The tidy side vents on the front wings that can be opened from within the car, letting air at ones feet. Yes I know these are tasks made much easier on modern cars, but here those tasks are special. Its more of an interaction, and thus more pleasing, more fun. When was the last time you adjusted the aircon in your car and it brought a smile to your face? Exactly.

But we got there, and it was a fantastic event. Vehicles travelled from not just the various counties of Ireland, but from across the UK. Things like MASSIVE steam engines, tiny steam engines, vans, sports cars, trucks, motorbikes and of all vintages. There were stands selling everything from fizzy drinks to replacement panels for a mk1 Escort.

Thanks to the car, I met so many interesting people and heard some wonderful stories. I couldn’t see that happening with the majority of new cars. At the end of the day, I took some time to walk around the venue, Ballybrit racecourse, to browse the stalls in peace. One such stall had what seemed like the entire contents of an old garage, spread across a huge number of tables. Something caught my eye, something shiny, red, plastic. Could it be? Having spent so long cleaning and polishing the car, I reckoned I was right. “How much for these” I asked the friendly looking old guy behind the stall. “They’ve been there for a long time, used to be 20 each. Give me a tenner for a pair”. I couldn’t get the cash out of my pocket fast enough. “What are they for?” he asked, “a 48 Riley RMA” I replied. “They are the right ones, a nice car the RMA” he said with an even greater smile.

Back to the car I went, avoiding the other stalls, even though there were things at them I’d have liked to see. Why, well like a kid racing down the stairs on the morning of December 25th, I couldn’t get there quick enough. True to the old mans word, and with pride that I had correctly identified them, I was now holding 2 genuine replacement rear brake lights for my new friend.

The journey back was even more fun, I felt like I had proven to the car that I really cared. It seemed like it drove more smoothly, and the brakes had more bite. Maybe I should buy it myself?

So, that was  a few weeks ago. Since then, I’ve advertised her on a few forums and specialist sites. Interest has come from various parts of Europe, a vintage dealer and some very clued in Riley fans.

The other day my Dad visited. He saw the car, and like so many others, it brought a smile to his face. He remembered seeing one as a kid, a rare sight apparently, even back then. I showed him some of the features I liked about it and asked if he’d like to go for a spin. On returning back to the house, he noticed the license plate – 48 G. “The car is the same age as me” he proclaimed. It was the first time he had sat in any car from 1948 and it was a special treat he thought.

Its a lovely thing this car. It may not be mint, but that just adds to the appeal I think. I know many people would never consider buying her, but all it takes is the right person, at the right time, and she’ll start a whole new chapter, making the lives of more people happier along the way.

I know I’ll miss her, so I hope she finds a home in Ireland, or at least in a place I can go visit. Enjoy the pics.