Team Suspect Device and Team Gammy Gecko signing out

Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been a blast.

To put it in as few words as possible, we covered 10,700kms in a 1964 Morris Minor we rebuilt from scrap in 4 months and on a 1991 Yamaha Super Tenere 750 we assembled in 36 hours straight including paint.

Our work here is done.

We’re off now to new adventures somewhere on this little planet, and as per usual we shall complete them in our own jaunty style. Probably in the most complex manner possible and always in or on vehicles that we have hand-built. It’s what we do.

In the words of the immortal song by An Emotional Fish:

“Celebrate, this party’s over, I’m going home”

We’re going when?

12 days till the big launch in Faugheen Co. Tipp, 9 days till the UK Craic Commandoes descend on Ireland and just about the perfect time to take Humphrey to bits. Yep, to bits. So at present the magnificent Humph is parked patiently, bonnet up in the bunker awaiting his new water pump. His halogen headlight conversion is complete and we’re taking the little time remaining to get everything just right for the off. Now sensible people would have said “you should have done this earlier”, but we reply “Like, earlier when?”

So for the last week he’s been getting the full prep, doing every little detail and making all the good stuff better. Only way to go, cos remember, it’s not what you’ve got, it’s what you’ve done to it. So in the next 5 days we hope to add a coilover booster spring setup to the front and rear axles, make an airbox, wire in a new relay for the spots, make new door/boot/bonnet seals, fit all the extra electrical stuff (radio/inverter/12Vsockets/CB/GPS/interior fans/fridge), wax oil underneath and make a cargo bed in the back for all our stuff. The roofrack needs a floor and we need to coat the jerrycans in our special tough paint, which we lovingly refer to as “Poo”.

Are we busy? Meh. Are we stressing? Nah.

Team Suspect Device - No Bullshit. No Drama. Just Contraptions.

On Show (again)

Last weekend (22nd June) Humphrey attended his second show. This time we aimed our lunacy at Mondello Park Racetrack in Naas, County Kildare for their Classic and Vintage show. As usual Humphrey tore up under his own steam and we made camp at Micks house in the Wicklow Mountains. Good old Humphrey is at the stage where he needed little more than a quick polish and off like stink for the show. We frightened the life out of the poor soul at the gate (who had seen Humphrey the day before to collect his stickers) with the klaxon. We have arrived.

We pootled into position in the Featured Cars section right in the heart of the show and locked up the beast. The weather was relatively malicious but the turn out was great. Lots of hardy souls who don’t mind taking out their expensive machines in all weathers to show the public. Proper order, we like their style. The day was mostly spent mooching around and generally getting our heads in, under and around the different types of machinery there.

The time then came for Humphrey to hit the track. Now we were aware of a slight water leak up front but we knew it was no biggy, just a water pump seal, we’ve a new one waiting in the bunker. So we topped up and got in the queue. 5 minutes of idling then flapflapflapflap charge light on. Bugger. Bob hopped out and pulled a snapped fan belt out of the engine. Bugger again. Still it could have happened on the track. Back to our spot and 10 mins later new fan belt in and we’re good to go.

Track Chance 2 was upon us and this time we took our place at the head of the field. Our mate John who looks after Operations in Mondello was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of our mighty contraption amidst the mega-bucks machines. Funnily enough they stayed away from our bullbars.

We pottered out onto the track and had great craic following the safety car and squirting and farting about the place. We ended up beside a lovely BMW 3.0 CSL and even managed to stay ahead of him on the start-finish straight as we gunned Humph before he knew what happened. Plenty of klaxon work for the crowd and daft cornering for the cameras. At one point a dickhead in an old Merc who was cutting everyone up tried his luck against us and almost met his maker. I don’t lift and we sure as hell weren’t letting him through. He got the message very quickly that you don’t mess with Team Suspect Device.

After the hilarity of the track we filed back into the paddock and had a good laugh and discussion about the few laps. In the interest of camaraderie we parked beside a pristine Morris Minor and took a few photos. Only for the owner to come along with a scowl and move his car to another spot. And people wonder why some classic car bods suffer from stereotyping???!! All through the day we had guys with seriously expensive machines having the laugh with us, enjoying the craic and wishing us well. Then this guy. We don’t offend easily though. We realise that this particular chap who looked to be in his 50’s probably still lives with his mother, keeps the car in a carpeted and heated garage, washes it with shampoo while wearing marigold gloves and can talk at length about production line statistics from the Morris factory over a glass of Guinness in his favourite anorak for hours. Fair play to you mate, you’re a credit. I bet you’re the life and soul, and nothing like the invalid specimen of a man first impressions would convey. You do Morris Minors your way and we’ll do them ours.

Team Suspect Device - always outnumbered, never outgunned.

The Trip to Tipp

Friday, Day 2 of Humphrey Rides Again saw us waking early to begin prepping for Humphreys first ever car show. We were heading to the prestigious Carrick-on-Suir Motor Club Festival of Motorsport. In order to have the mighty Morris in all his finery a trip to B&Q and Halfords was called for.

B&Q yielded the necessary drain pipe pieces to finish the snorkels and Halfords were done for some wiper blades, some blue leds, crimp on connections and an air freshener. Sorted, back to the Bunker.

After a morning of fixing and fitting we launched for Faugheen. We overnighted at Ruths, a friend of Bobs (whos Dad is also contraption mad and delighted to drive Humphrey about) and the following morning after a fantastic fryup we took off for the 6 miles trip to the show.

At the showgrounds officials promptly wet themselves at the site of Humphrey and he did us proud as he bolted across the grass and through gates like a demented gazelle. One official may have had a stroke when he was asked “Where’s the concours category?”. We spent the whole day chatting to people, frightening children with the klaxon and generally explaining the T2 rally and our mission. The car was a huge hit with everyone and we got the thumbs up from the classic car boys (I thought they’d linch us) for our work in such a small amount of time. Irelands (maybe the worlds) only Rally-Raid Morris Minor is a major talking point now and much as we’d wished myself and Bob are now infamous.

Day 2 of the show was spent in a heap on the stall, we had spent the whole night arsing about discussing everything from route plans to how much better tractor-fighting would be to bull-fighting that we literally found ourselves sitting in the carpark at dawn with no sleep. Genius. People didn’t mind, and we put in a heroic days advertising and chatting again. This being Sunday it was unbelievably busy, the weather was fantastic and we got a great shout out on the tannoy from Mad Dougie the Mikeman. That’ll do. That evening we collected our certificate, broke camp and headed along the long road back to the bunker. Suffice to say apart from the usual hallucinations it was a quiet night for us (we were knackered).

Mission accomplished, the T2 Rally is on everyones lips and Humphrey is a hit.

Switching to Manual

After some frantic welding/painting/wiring/plumbing etc etc the time had come to introduce Humphrey to the tarmac and at the same time introduce Tipperary to the notion of the T2 Rally. First stop was Bob’s Bunker in Wicklow.

Last thursday, after much work and tea, Humphrey made his way to the tax office for the last of his paperwork. He drew a fine crowd of bewidered onlookers and amused the lady from the tax office who came down to confirm his new paint scheme. Sadly “Cow” is on the system as a registered colour so he is now down as White/Blue. Good enough. Introducing flip choices onto tax discs would cause too much bother.

That night after fuelling and packing the beast we launched for Wicklow 200 yards down the road, splutter–fart–stop. Fuel line kinked and fuel pump upset. Never ones to panic we pushed Humphrey to safer ground and began the fixin’. Job done in 20 minutes, off like stink.

40 miles later approaching Roscrea, brrrrrrrmmm—-poot—-splutterfart—stop. This was going to be awkward. Here we were on the side of a busy road, in the approaching dark with no lights and timber trucks whizzing by inches from our heads as we tried to fix the pump points as our torch got dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer.

Luckily both Bob and myself have the night vision of cats due to years of doing this kind of thing with various contraptions, but after an hour and a half we were getting tired. No matter what we did the fuel pump would not switch off and kindly spat raw petrol all over the hot exhaust. Nice. Solution? In true Team Suspect Device style we jammed the fuel pump points closed to keep it running, pulled off it’s feed wire, attached the one from the wiper motor beside it and we took off for Wicklow with me simply turning on the wipers/fuelpump every 10 seconds or so. A sleeping bag on the passenger seat to rest my arm and it was quite manageable!

The next day we whacked in a rebuilt pump and got ready to show Humphrey off.

Bovine Bling

What do you get if you cross two less-than-sensible mentalists, 2.5 compressors, 10 litres of paint and flip lacquer, 8 miles of masking tape, 47 cups of tea, and six acres of old newspaper? The worlds first blue-flip friesian Morris Minor with teeth!!

After a mammoth 40 hour paint fume consumption session, Team Suspect Devices rallybeast Humphrey is now sporting his new look. One compression calved, thunder storms knocked off our electricity twice, we forgot to eat for an entire day and we have made up a new language. We ran out of paint twice and butchered 2 compressors to make bits for the third. Read more

Break Sump Thing

Todays shennanigans involves freeing out a rather uncooperative brake pedal. 3 in 1 oil and a large crowbar obviously scared it into submission because before I even got them into the car it gave a strange honk and geriatrically moved back to it’s rightful place. Leaving the crowbar aside I treated it to a good dose of oil and it’s working rather well now.

Also on the cards was the sump guard. Now I reckon there are some pretty big rocks in Africa so this thing has got to be tough. One fine rectangle of 4mm steel later and we have a candidate. Now to figure out how to bend it.

Finishing todays bodging was a crafty coating of filler onto all those little blemishes. I’ve cut out and rewelded in metal where needed so thankfully this icky goo is only required to get a nice surface for paint.

Maps, Radios and Chemicals

Todays panic revolved mostly around the arrival of a decent map. Actually two. Given the regularity with stuff bursting into flames around here we thought it only wise. So one is being examined while the other is kept in the freezer. The basic plan at the minute is to stay on the yellow stuff, avoid the blue stuff, keep going south till we cannot pronounce the town names, then turn left. Easy.

We got a CB working today, so we can pollute the African airwaves with profanities and generally listen for the Eastern Route loonies at night. It was a disturbing experience. Channel 14 had some mad woman praying to what sounded like Heaven’s Phonebook. Apparently she knows them all well enough to bother them. After trying to answer and tell her thanks but we’re doing fine up here we gave up. We reckon the FBI have wired a nun by mistake.

In a lightning attack Bob rolled in the heavy artillery in the form of some spectacular flip paint, which he duly applied to an unsuspecting Vespa in the Bunker. We’ve got a car show in Kilkenny on the 7th and 8th of June and as the car still looks destroyed we’re planning ahead. Still, the fumes were unusual and I swear I’m sitting here beside Elvis…….Over and Out.

Day of wReckoning

First of all Bob would like to say “Ow ow ow ow ow…..”, this is due to him practically removing a knuckle while performing yet another feat of automotive ninjitsu-surgery.

Right, what did we get done. Radiator and cooling system fully plumbed in. Fuel tank broken and fixed by us today (much swearing and petrol burps), fuel pump fitted and tweaked. New hyper-budget performance-loud-bugger exhaust crafted and installed from unconventionally borrowed (stolen) pipe and a single rather fruity silencer. New brakes lines everywhere, ran inside the car so no snakes in the arse for us! Brake lines by Leonardo de Bob because they are a work of art. All exhaust bracketery made from scratch. Fuel gauge fixed but not working. Starter removed, fopped, cleaned, reinstalled and working beautifully. Petrol cap lost. Oil light working. Oil tasted and confirmed. Engine test ran and admired. Some bodywork done too.

Team Suspect Device would like to apologise for the alarming daftness of this blog. The combination of bloodloss and petrol ingestion while fixing the fuel system means it’s another evening with the Pink Heffalumps down in Dingley Dell for us.

More dismantling.

Stripped some old stodgy brake lines away today, and located the kind of goo normally found in bad sci-fi movies. We kept it because it may work as fuel. Took measurements of the back spring hangers, there’ll be some new ones of those made soon. Looked and laughed at the wiring. Hoping for a full 5 day assault on Humphrey the mighty rally car starting tomorrow. 5 am coffee alarm set.

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