These days nostalgia is old-fashioned. I can't imagine grandchildren getting excited when my sons dig out their 50 yr old ZX80 Spectrums from my loft.
I well remember the pressure on a Sunday with bits of car or m/bike on the pavement and needing it to be finished to go to work. It was a bit easier then as the technology enabled temp repairs and bodges and garages had proper stores with parts, but nowadays apart from some oil and a few fan belts they rely on 4 deliveries a day from motor factors.
I started a 5 yr indentured apprenticeship in 1962 (my father had to sign the indenture papers) at a large R/R, Bentley and Jag main dealer with day release once a week at tech where we learnt to strip, repair and rebuild dynamos, starter motors, brake cylinders, distributors, fuel pumps, in fact anything that could be taken apart. Our engine overhaul training was done on a 750cc side valve Austin Seven engine that had been stripped and rebuilt so many times it could probably have done it by itself. It was quite normal when back at the bench to spend a day diagnosing, stripping and rebuilding almost any item on a vehicle, but with today's replacement exchange services and labour rates at from £60 to £140 an hour it just wouldn't be economic. That's the main reason I got out of being a mechanic as we had become parts fitters, spending a large part of each day at the Stores getting exchange units. Most R/R and Bentley parts had a serial number on them and we had to log the old and new numbers to be sent to R/R or Bentley. We had a range of tailor made quilted fitted covers to put over the outside and inside panels of each vehicle.
Being located in the centre of Brighton almost all owners were film or radio celebrities of the day; Gracie Fields, Sir Laurence Olivier, Gilbert Harding, Cliff Michelmore, Vivian Leigh, Vera Lynn......
I still cringe when I remember a rush job to replace the oil pressure gauge in Michelmore's Jag. It was fed with oil via a small dia copper pipe and just carefully removing the entire walnut dashboard took a couple of hours. Shortly after driving it away he returned with black oil drips down his white trousers from the pipe to the new gauge that I hadn't tightened sufficiently. He wasn't happy and our Works Manager (permanently on the verge of a nervous breakdown) threatened me with the sack but my foreman dissuaded him. 35 years later when working with him at the London Boat Show, demonstrating yacht 'Man Overboard' equipment in the pool he remembered the oil gauge event and hoped my skills had improved.
The entire site was demolished 15 years ago and is now luxury apartments so there's progress for you.
However, I ramble, and the lovely young lady next door has just given me some of her blueberry crumble and custard
so must eat it while it's still hot.
