Volume 1 Issue 1 Month 1993

The trip down

Chairman breaks down on Paris Peripherique

t all seemed to good to be true. The traffic on the eastbound peripherique was flowing steadily. Carefully the six cylinder traction was hopping from lane to lane to get in the right position for exiting at the "Porte de Lyon" exit to catch the N10 south. A n eighteen tons juggernaut had the same idea and thundered along in the fast lane. Just when we entered the vaguely lit tunnel a row of brake lights ignited in front of us. The brakes felt spongy. Frantic pumping brought the car to a standstill. Just then, the engine, which had been purring along the peerage from Bowline decided that it too had had enough and started sputtering and boiling. A vapor lock was instantly produced and the battery started to loose confidence. Could it really turn over this massive crankshaft and compress six cylinders with every turn? Don't panic these continental truckers have eyes like hawks and never veer off to the right in a hazy Calvados induced doze. Take a deep breath, pretend everything is under control. Get the Tesco's 4 litre milk container out, which you had filled with water just for this event. Top up the radiator. Prime the petrol pump like mad and push the starter button again. Putt Putt putt.........with excruciating hesitation the engine comes back to life. Don't worry dear. The traction's hand brakes are designed to function as an emergency stopping aid in cars of this age. None of this dual braking circuit nonsense. At the next exit, the BP service station attendant, warns that we should "bleed" the system. You just can't top it up and hope that it will work! Oui, oui Je le sais. I just want to get to my friends house and have a stiff Calvados myself! I still had no idea where the brake fluid went so quickly.

The next morning we sat in a charming little garden sipping our café au lait and pigging on chocolate croissants. It was getting near eleven when Diane suggested I should have a look at the car if we planned to get to my brother's in the Ardeche that night. The culprit was found at the joint of the rear flexy rubber pipe and the brand new copper section that went to the off side rear wheel. Jean, who worked in pneumatics, had the perfect explanation. You should have put copper-ease around the flange before you tightened the nut! When tightened too much, copper will grip on copper, and you almost certainly sheered of the collar of the flange that way. L'attelier de freinage nearby soon made a new flange on my pipe. This time I applied lubricant using a bit of grease from the rear wheel bearing. Diane did her pump , hold and release bit like an expert and after a quick lunch we were on our way. I won't bore you with the entire voyage, but let me suffice to say, that when a hairline crack appeared for the third time at exactly the same spot in the brand-new copper tubing, I started to get a wee bit suspicious.

How not to mount copper brake pipes

he very helpful manager of the Quick Fit establishment insisted, that the pipes were mounted in their original fittings, but I had the distinct impression, that when I made the car bounce up and down, (waking up Diane who was fast asleep on top of the hydraulic ramp, bored of the inside of yet another French garage), I could see the copper pipe bend, rather than the rubber section. I didn't want to offend the man who as so many before him charged little or nothing for his efforts, but as soon as I got to the next parking place outside of town, I undid all the pipe fixings, so that it sort of dangled in position., letting the too short rubber flex take the strain. Back home of course John Gillard confirmed my suspicion and supplied me with a rubber brake pipe of the correct length which bypassed the first eye on the torsion arm and joined a copper pipe equally reduced in length. Another one down too experience, but I would hate to imagine what would have happened if the pipe had snapped coming down from that huge mountain just outside of Clermont Ferrant. Did you see the dead end sections they have created at the end of some nasty hairpins in the peage, where you can deliberately crash your car in a series of buffers ?

The rally site in Auvergne

he Pui the Dome welcomed us as we approached Clermont Ferrant from the direction of the Rhone valley and offered us some spectacular views. At the last toll booth there was a delightful queue of all sorts of Citroens , whose owners were probably getting just as excited as I was. Registration on the Friday evening was short and sweet. The directions to the campsite abysmal and no signposting worth mentioning. The problem was that every Citroen followed others that were equally lost. Eventually we pitched our tent in Nirvana and found ourselves next to some of my old mates from Section South in the Dutch TAN. The facilities were pretty basic, but the atmosphere was like on all ICCCR's. Fantastic!

The next morning the traffic jam of Cabriolets, sixes and immaculate DS's was unimaginable. I must say the worst queue jumpers are the Swiss, not the Dutch! Driving onto the Michelin test tracks, was like entering another world. Is was big, bigger biggest. Any aspiration to proudly show off my newly restored Six could be instantly forgotten. It was a case of not seeing the wood for the trees. Where on previous meetings the odd Six is bound to be the center of attention, there now was Mammoth parking lot full of them. The next day I decided to make my pitch by the entrance of the huge spare parts marquee. The display of Floating Power magazines lasted the day and I chatted to several of our members from South Africa to Australia, which was a nice surprise.

Diane took care of the stand and signed up several potential new members while I attended the "Amicale" meeting held on site, to discuss where the next ICCCR was to take place. I am afraid we bullied our Belgium friends into starting a peace process between the French and Dutch speaking part of that country, because we all felt that their little hospitable country is conveniently centrally located in Europe and has a great gastronomic and beer brewing tradition.

So in three years time it will be the Ardennes offensive all over again. Start planning the next invasion!

Some might say the 10th ICCCR was a bit impersonal and too big. Personally I enjoyed every minute of it, even waiting till past midnight for my dessert at the gala dinner. You will never see such a concentration of cabriolets, Rosengarths, Liberation army vehicles or fire engines again, all bearing our famous marque.

The long road back

fter yet another pitstop, this time in the "remorque" of a local traction enthusiast who got his Dad out of bed to do a bit of copper soldering on my brake pipe, we headed for the vallee of the Loire on our way back. This is when I noticed my oil level was going up rather than down, and I wished I had tightened that cylinder head one more time before I set out. I clearly recognized the whoosh of water leaving the sump at the local Citroen dealer, who skipped lunch to help me out. Can you imagine that ? Inspecting the inside of the rocker cover, I discovered Charlie's secret milk chocolate factory and could well imagine how pumping that sludge around the engine made the oil pressure seem higher than before. Also the engine started making clonking noises and wondered if I was ever GOING TO MAKE IT HOME!

The engine in bits again

ell I did , but it was a bit nerve wrecking, was I slowly grinding up my precious bearings ? I had let the water out of the radiator overnight, to stop it leaking down the sump, but there were definitely noises there, that were never there before and sounded to me like clanking conrods on knackered white metal bearings. Back home Roger Williams could not believe that damage could be done so quickly. Apparently water can be an excellent lubricant. (Think of Steam Car Developments! Get it ?) Also John Gillard came and visited the patient in hospital and said; " It doesn't sound like bearing trouble to me" Steve Southgate gave me the courage to whip the mass of steel out and assess the damage. I bet you its the rear flywheel. They are for ever coming off the back of six cylinder engines. One darned nearly took my foot off!!

(to be continued)