B-Turbo cabriolet

When I say it would never start in the morning, I do mean NEVER!

I wanted this car more than I wanted the twin blond nymphomaniacs that in those youthful days I often thought of.
I made a mistake. I did not test drive it. Why would I? In dark blue metallic paint with a matching electric hood and a camel coloured leather interior it was the most beautiful car I had ever seen and I traded in my lovely black Porsche 944 without regret.
It was two minutes after leaving the supplying garage, TVR Central in Birmingham, that I became rather less keen.
The air-con did not work and the heater fan so feeble it was almost but not quite working. The driving position was 'Italian', and that explains it. There was a squeak from the closed roof every time I went over the slightest bump that was akin to nails sc***ing down a blackboard.
On the first stretch of open road the car had the performance of a Ford Escort van, and a diesel van at that..
It was dreadful.
Back to the garage with a list of faults, including that the electric radio ariel would not retract so that the boot spoiler fouled it and the boot therefore could not be opened.
They had it three weeks and claimed to have fixed everything and it would be delivered at midday to my wife's workplace. It was not, it was 'in error' delivered to our home address and the car keys pushed through the letter box. Upon us returning home, we realised why. Apart from the horrible squeak and it running slightly better, nothing else had been fixed including the still half erect radio ariel.
It was a bitter cold Lincolnshire night with white frost already everywhere at 8pm on the November night.
We took the car for a 25 mile drive with the roof down. What can I say? we were young and foolish, but we enjoyed the drive despite the non-working heater.
I cut the ariel off with a hacksaw to be able to open the boot.
The next morning the car would not start. The AA arrived and after almost an hour the engine fired up on three cylinders, then four, then........all of them. My how we cheered.
Sadly it was to be the same EVERY morning. I would get up at 5.30am to go outside to try to start the car. It would not (ever). Then I would call out the AA. Within a month we knew all the AA team by name, how many sugars they took and how much milk.
Don't get me wrong, it was an absolutely stunning looking car but the dog- leg gearbox was difficult to use rapidly and I once had a standard Golf GTI hang onto my rear end despite doing all I could to lose him. In the end I put my arm on the door, and pretended I was not trying.
I loved and loathed the beast. It was surprisingly slow, being very short it did not handle too well as I found out upon spinning it 180degrees on a roundabout on the A1 on a Friday rush hour. The lorry driver who pulled up about an inch from my now, rear facing bonnet, merely moved his fist up and down in an all too clear opinion of my driving.
It was the most lovely and at the same time, the very worst car that I have ever owned.
Paulus

Report as offensive