All I want for Christmas is - a Triumph TR6

FATHER CHRISTMAS will be cursing my dad this year. It’s always a squeeze getting every last present onto that sleigh – so there’s no way there’s room for a Triumph TR6 too.

All twelve reindeer will be gasping for breath as they struggle to pull 1,100kg of beefy British sports car through the sky behind them on their big festive delivery, and chances are the bearded wonder himself will be reported for breaching the Health and Safety at Work Act for making his flying companions haul unreasonably heavy loads. Then there are the logistics of getting a two-seater roadster down a chimney successfully. It’s all that fault of that man who wrote in asking for a TR6 rather than a festive jumper – and that pesky Champion car bloke who encouraged him!

Luckily I don’t think my dad’s expecting the elves to do all the hard work for him – but he has been worryingly thorough in his plans to pick up a bit of classic car heritage to enjoy his retirement in. He’s already worked out, for instance, that plenty of TR6s the Americans bought new are now being repatriated - and that it’s potentially cheaper to buy one of these and have it converted to right-hand-drive than it is to pay a small fortune for a Blighty-spec original.

The thought of a TR6 is an exciting one. Most importantly, he hasn’t done the thing I dread most of all whenever I hear someone thinking about buying an old car – the idea of buying it as an investment.

Classic cars as investments belong in a sad world that forever seems to appear in the glossy supplements you get with Sunday broadsheets. The one where bottles of expensive wine and whiskey gather dust in basements full of delicious liquids destined never to be drunk, toys are unplayed with and carefully tucked away in their boxes and holiday cottages sit unoccupied for months at a time, pricing the locals out of the market. Their owners have no intention of using them for anything other than to make money – and they put the prices up for people who truly enjoy them.

There’s nothing wrong with being clever with your motoring purchases – I know one tale of a chap who bought an E-type when they cheap, enjoyed it until it outvalued his house and then used the proceeds to pay off his mortgage. Smart move, but the word ‘enjoyed’ is the most important word in that sentence. Old cars thrive on being used and enjoyed – there’s nothing sadder than seeing one carted from show to show in a trailer when you know it never does any meaningful miles.

That’s why if a Triumph TR6 does show up anytime soon I’ll insist it gets used on country lanes on sunny afternoons and appears at car shows. Otherwise I’ll have to give Lapland’s finest a ring – they’ll have to come out and take it back. Merry Christmas!

The Triumph Stag needs its own adjective

THE OTHER week I mentioned one of my petrolhead pals was threatening to blow five thousand of his carefully earned pounds on a Triumph Stag.

Luckily, he saw sense at the last minute and decided not to; he decided to chuck seven and a half bags of sand at one instead. That’s £7,500 on a 1970s convertible best known – unfairly or not - for its penchant for rotting and munching through head gaskets at the first hint of overheating. To make matters worse, even if you bag a really good one it’ll still struggle – and I’ve seen the fuel bills to prove it – to top 25 to the gallon. 

However, all of this pales into comparision with the really unhinged bit – almost immediately after doing the deal, the mate in question lobbed the keys in my direction and insisted I had a go. I returned half an hour later with an enormous grin on my face – and not even remotely envious! 

The tricky thing with the Stag is that while not being superlative or extraordinary in any one particular field, it covers all the bases with a caddish charm that’s surprisingly hard to pin down in print. It’s so difficult to define what underpins the Stag’s essence that it’s actually easier to associate it with things which have the same delightfully dated and yet somehow cool sense of aspiration. Things which are, in other words, a bit stagulent. 

Roger Moore, for instance, is stagulent, as were his attempts to charm Britt Ekland in The Man With The Golden Gun. Velour jackets and polka dot shirts (especially worn together) are stagulent, as is playing golf. Flying on Concorde was always a bit stagulent, as are Joanna Lumley, Directors Bitter, the whole of Harrogate, and reruns of The Persuaders!. Cars other than the Triumph Stag can be stagulent too; try the Jaguar XJ-S, or today’s BMW 6-Series Convertible and the Jaguar F-type. 

That’s why you’ll either ‘get’ Triumph’s V8-engined, Italian-styled, leatherette-lined cruiser or you won’t. It’s not the fastest, the nimblest, or best-built car you’ll ever drive but the looks, the rumble of the 3.0 litre engine when you shove the automatic gearbox into kickdown and the way it just lollops along effortlessly acts an automotive passport to some parallel world where everything is a bit more stylish, albeit in an irredeemably gaudy sort of way.

In short the Triumph Stag is thirsty, badly-made, not especially fast and looks like it’s escaped from a casino in 1970s Monte Carlo. I love it.

Image courtesy of Classic Car Weekly and Sam Skelton

Tatton Park gets set for classic car spectacular

CAR lovers from across the North West will be converging on a stately home in Cheshire for one of the region’s biggest car shows next weekend.

The Classic and Performance Car Spectacular, which takes place at Tatton Park, is set to attract more than 2,000 classic cars, and this year features a special celebration of Triumph’s sports cars, particularly the TR7 and TR8 models.

The show, which is now is in its 28th year, will feature displays from more than 90 car clubs and individual entrants, and a well-established autojumble will give showgoers the chance to pick up a bargain from hundreds of parts and accessories on offer.

For more information about the show, which takes place on 31 May and 1 June, visit www.cheshireautopromotions.co.uk

Car park at Donington proves an unlikely haven for classic spotters

ONE of the great things about going to a car show is that the automotive exotica isn't always limited to the exhibits inside the gates.

A lot of petrolheads enjoy taking their pride and joy to the event with them, which is why I've always reckoned it's worth having a nose around the car park before you head home to see if there's anything special hiding among the Astras and Qashqais.

In the case of this year's Donington Historic Festival the public car park proved to be particularly prolific, with the fantastically rare Porsche 911 Speedster you see above giving an idea of just some of the surprises in store.

Here's just a few of the automotive treats that were in store...

Traditionalist Morgan or exuberant Ferrari F355 - which would you pick for a blast through the countryside?

A sports car classic in Italian racing red takes centre stage in Donington's car park. Oh, and there's a Ferrari Dino too.

No prizes for guessing which one I'd pick...

Rover 214SEi owned by Yours Truly, Lotus Elise and Austin Healey Sprite pose for the camera.

How many car parks have you spotted an Alfa Romeo SZ in lately? Liking the Astra GTE alongside it too - a surprisingly rare sight on British roads these days!

Two very different Sixties classics - a Citroen DS21 and an MGB Roadster - add a touch of style to the car park.

Oh-so-Seventies shade of gold seems to suit this Series 3 Jaguar XJ6 perfectly.

Porsche 911 GT3 wins our approval. Questionable registration plate doesn't.

Ford Fiesta RS Turbo - when was the last time you saw one?

Check out Life On Cars later this week for some of the highlights from inside this year's Donington Historic Festival.

Don't get stung by one of driving's biggest distractions

IT WAS on a fine summer’s afternoon I discovered perhaps the most dangerous driving distraction known to man.

The Government’s answered calls – although not on a mobile phone while at the wheel, obviously – to up the penalty for those caught texting while driving to ninety quid. Rightly so, I reckon, because trying to spk 2 ur m8 abt 2nite while at the helm of an Audi A4 in the outside lane is, in anyone’s book, a recipe for disaster.

Unfortunately, the Ministry of Transport hasn’t yet found ways to legislate against some equally attention-grabbing, but rather less avoidable, motoring distractions. Nanny State could, for example, do something about those lorries you always find conveniently parked up in fields alongside motorways and dual carriageways, but of far more pressing concern are the appalling spelling, grammatical and punctual errors on an alarming number of them. One, at the side of the A1, reads “Believe ON the Lord Jesus Christ”*, which constantly provokes in-car debate about whether it’s best to believe while standing, quite literally, on the son of God. Another, plugging a car care specialist, proclaims “Diesel’s repaired”. Is it? Trust me, there are few things more dangerous while driving on a dual carriageway than being forced to consult my imaginary copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves.

There’s also the unavoidable motoring horror of the sneeze, which not only blinds you entirely for half a second or so but, if it catches you off-guard, leaves the inside of your windscreen covered in snot (interior windscreen wipers, by the way, could be a great suggestion for anyone thinking of entering Dragons’ Den). Driving while preoccupied by a recent bereavement is a no-no too, and if you’re a man, there’s the added distraction of billboards with pictures of Keira Knightley on them.

All of these however, pale into comparision with the distraction I encountered on that gloriously sunny afternoon in the North Yorkshire countryside. I was driving a bright yellow Triumph Spitfire – read badly built Mazda MX-5 if you haven’t done your GCSEs yet – down the country lanes, lapping up the rays, when a bee landed on the inside of the windscreen. Seconds later, it flew off and landed straight on my chest. All the advanced driving lessons in the world can’t help prepare you for a spot of motoring melissophobia. How I didn’t crash someone else’s prized classic sports car, I will never know!

What’s more, while bees are fairly benign creatures which only sting when they’re threatened, I dread the day when a wasp – a useless species which stings small children just for fun – decides to join me for the drive.

The Government don’t just need to clamp down on texting drivers. They need to ban wasps as well.

*I am aware that 'on' and 'in' are both, for historical reasons, considered acceptable, but it still draws up interesting debates about the evolution of the English language. Just one I'd prefer not to have while driving along the A1.

Tatton Park Classic & Performance Car Spectacular 2012

DAMP weather hasn't done anything to dampen the spirits of the hundreds of classic car fans who've been visiting Tatton Park this weekend, to visit one of the biggest shows and autojumbles in the north of England.

Tatton Park has long been a petrolhead favourite but this year showgoers are being treated to three days rather than the usual two, on account of the show being held on the Diamond Jubilee weekend. Street party or the chance to check out millions of pounds worth of stunning old cars - which would you rather take up?

Because journalists still have to work on the Bank Holiday Monday, Life On Cars went up earlier today to check out some of the best automotive attractions, and took these pictures:

 

The Classic & Performance Car Spectacular is also on tomorrow and Monday at the Tatton Park estate, near Knutsford, and is open between 10am and 4pm. Tickets cost £7.50 for adults, and car parking costs £5. For more information click here.

Life On Cars has had a whopping 4,000 online visits over the past month and to celebrate has something a little special on the way. Keep an eye on here over the next few days...

An apology to the creators of the Triumph Stag

I'VE just realised I've made a cataclysmic cock-up.

Don't worry, Life On Cars service will continue as normal and I'm not about to see the inside of a libel court, but I realised today that I'd made a horrendous mistake with my list of the ten best looking cars of all time.

I'd forgotten about the Triumph Stag.

Regular readers might have already noticed I've got a bit of penchant for traditional British sports cars - I do, after all, own one - but despite my dreams of driving a TVR Griffith when the Champion Euromillions syndicate finally comes good the one model I have on my mantlepiece isn't one of those. It is, of course, a bright red example of Triumph's V8 roadster.

As a car it's always had a bit of a troubled history, which has a little bit to do with being built by British Leyland and a lot to do with the horror stories surrounding its 3.0 litre V8, which Triumph went to lots of expense and trouble just for that one car. The obvious choice would have been the freely-available 3.5 litre V8 available just down the road from their colleagues at Rover, but that's hardly the Triumph way.

If ever I were to buy a Stag I'd almost certainly go for one of the many that's been converted to run the Rover V8, not because it's any more reliable but because it just sounds a lot hornier. As these soundbites, I reckon, prove:

A Triumph Stag with the Triumph V8 fitted from new:

And a Triumph Stag with the meatier Rover V8 it should have been given:

But forget the much-maligned mechanicals and just take in those neat proportions, the Rostyle wheels and the Michelotti styling, which is the reason why it's one of the few 1:18 scale models I have that isn't packed into a box in my loft. It is a stunning, delicately-crafted and timelessly styled sports car, as good looking now as it was 40 years ago.

Anyway, that's my homage to one of the great British sports cars, and my way of making up for a mistake on my part. Won't happen again...