From summer of 2004 I had substantially all of the parts ready and commenced the reassembly. When stuck, I would call a growing list of contacts for advice, and was encouraged by the occasional visitor (some in 12/50’s) to keep going. As with the major engineering previously described, I cannot claim it was all my own work – there are two exceptions: The original leatherwork had perished and been replaced, so I had no problem in replacing this with new leather with wider and more historically accurate fluting. A recommendation from another Register member came up trumps and someone who came down to Ross from Redditch every day for a week trimmed the car in situ. Similarly, first attempts at coachpainting exposed my limitations in this department and professional help was sought from a local firm in the Forest of Dean. (I have also toyed with the idea of painting the bonnet, as it was in 1923, and perhaps this is a future project.) The rest of the work I take the blame for.
If it doesn’t work, or you are tired, stop and go to sleep. I made more than one mistake, thankfully none serious and all reversible, but they were all made at the end of the day when I was tired or when I had been going for too long. Despite the fact that I recorded pretty much everything as I dismantled it, with hindsight I should have written, photographed and measured much more.
A nut and bolt rebuild requires, in my humble opinion, one quality above all; an ability to cope with despair, and there have been times during the last three years when I really have felt it was all too much. Learning (vintage) car restoration with little or no assistance on a car as historically significant as HP6161 was, with the benefit of hindsight, risky, if not foolhardy. Taking things apart is (mostly) common sense, Radford and a digital camera. Cleaning, polishing and, where necessary, having replacements made can be mundane. Reassembly demands patience, patience and patience. Never, ever rush things.