I will resist the temptation to fit stops on the basis that the extra headroom above the UJ created by the new tank shape should prevent a reoccurrence, and try and anticipate things in future.  On this subject (anticipation, that is) it is a skill that generally I do need to hone.  I have already indicated that velocity can be built remarkably quickly and, given the lack of speedometer, without one’s awareness.  Wish that it were so that the reverse were true.  Braking efficiency is best measured with a sundial.  The handbrake helps, but when used in extremis only serves to lock up the back brakes.  I will have the pads relined during the winter but doubt that significant progress will be made.  Oncoming drivers beware, and Oily Tics who cut in before me when slowing for roundabouts should be prepared to have their boot punctured by two extremely robust dumbirons. Anyhow, there is little point complaining about the braking of a sprint car, and Robert Wicksteed’s eventual decision, after much deliberation, to eschew front anchors was probably made with this in mind.  I concur, but there are times when it don’t half worry me.

 

Around town this isn’t too bad; as your writer, being a self-confessed peacock, is driving slowly enough to get himself noticed.  People wave to you, let you out into traffic and are generally sympathetic to the point of condescension, not knowing that it is really Toad behind those Mk. 9’s.  I am still developing my petrol station etiquette, but have waited patiently for other customers to finish their transactions (at their request) so that they can come out and watch me start it.  I should have been on the stage.  Nonchalance is easier, I find, behind sunglasses rather than goggles, and I do (rather guiltily, it has to be said) wave back.  As one passes the last 30 m.p.h. sign and the road opens up, it is truly impossible to resist the request from the engine to press the centre pedal.  With 20 mph coming from just 1000 rpm in top, running in at 3000 rpm is a joy.  There is, it has to be said, a period of vibration at about 55 mph which I had put down to the usual Alvis reasons, but am now advised is actually due to wear in the splines in the sliding joint in the propshaft.  This is on the list of jobs for winter, but in the meantime is easily solved by a little more speed (shame).  I am pretty diligent in keeping the revs down, despite regular invitations from the exhaust note, as on the few occasions when I have exceeded this limit one can tell that the engine is doing it reluctantly.

 

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Alvis Racing Car No. 1