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A TVR Vixen has many characteristic traits; a beautifully arched rear window, parts from all manner of weird cars and an elegantly crafted body form, however the most aggrieving trait of all is its ability to continually and mockingly absorb money.
I own a 1970 Vixen Series 2. It did itself have many individual quantnesses as are the delight of any classic car owner. These included the use of a scaffolding pole butchered in to the chassis to act, in conjunction with its array of welding blobs, as a structural member. The delicate curves in the passengers sill where some large and immovable object has been used to 'guide' the car in the desired direction and of course, the old gem, rust, which looking at the extent of it can only be from numerous salt water dunkings.
My interest in Vixens was fed by a friend who had just spent the last few years and a not inconsiderable amount of money restoring one to a fine and moderately tuned condition. The respectable power to weight ratio, individual looks and rarity appealed to my young and blinkered mind which could only see a picture of an exotic, powerful sports car sweeping though the country side.
I launched in to my search for a Vixen suitable for restoration with gusto and quickly hit a brick wall. There were barely any Vixens for sale, never mind ones that hadn't had time and money lavished on them by caring owners. I joined the TVRCC to increase my exposure to the marque and met Tim Harrison, the owner of a red series 3 Vixen, wise to all the quirks of the model and a wealth of useful information and Matt Feasey, a veritable (and seemingly endless) fountain of knowledge.
Six months later I heard of a Series 2 Vixen for sale with smashed dials and in a generally poor state, but after emailing the owner was told that someone was looking at it that weekend. I heard no more until I was simultaneously being offered a car by a dealer and was emailed by the owner of the series 2 who had moved house and was now looking for a buyer again. Both cars were white, had smashed dials and were in need of a lot of attention and it didn't take a genius to work out that they were the same car (but at different prices!) I went up to the Manchester area to look at the Vixen and found it in a sorry state blocked in by another Vixen, against the wall. After reassurance of its fine condition on the side I couldn't see I agreed a price and the deal was done.
A couple of weeks later a flat bed lorry rolled down my road with the Vixen strapped on top. The height of the flat bed allowed a much more detailed inspection than was achievable at the cars last home and it was in these few minutes that the magnitude of the task in front of me was revealed. The 'wall' side of the car had a badly bodged patch attempting to restructure the sill of the car that had been smashed in from a side impact.
Once in the garage a further inspection revealed that the main aspects of the car were original. This, to many, would be a great find, however it meant, quite simply, it was knackered. The carpets and headlining had an ancient Egypt quality to them in that they disintegrated to the touch. The engine couldn't turn over fast enough for it to start (after further engine out inspection this was found to be from a rusted solid water pump) and the chassis was as holy as the pope.
"I had learnt that the inability to undo a seized bolt, rather than being yet another kick in the teeth, was in fact standard."
The first task was to remove the body from the chassis by the simple removal of 10 bolts. From the previous restoration of a Triumph GT6 I had learnt that the inability to undo a seized bolt, rather than being yet another kick in the teeth, was in fact standard. If however a bolt were to come undone without a fight, this was a cause for celebration. No celebration was to be had from the Vixen. The bolts had to be removed with a grinding disk to the joy of the neighbours who owned the sitting room attached to my single garage.
Seats, ugly brown things from an MG or the like, were removed, as was anything attaching the fibreglass body to the chassis. The bonnet was removed and I noted at this point that the bonnet frame has exploded out of the fibreglass holding it to the bonnet - a problem for the future, the bonnet was quickly stored under a tarpaulin. One of the main benefits of a fibreglass body then became evident, it only needed two people to lift it. This I did with a friend and the body was shipped off to my parents house to await its turn for restoration.
The fundamental plan was to strip chassis to component parts and rebuild, as new (or better) from scratch. The main aspect of the chassis that was noticeable, excluding lack of it in some critical areas, was the large quantity of oil that had been blasted out by the differential and now coated a lot of the rear chassis members. This was a blessing in disguise as it meant that the chassis at the rear has not been touched by the rust monkey and so needed little further attention.
Engine ancillaries were removed with only minor annoyance when the whole inlet manifold (and carb.) had to be unscrewed from the head due to a stubborn and un relenting stud having bonded itself in to the aluminium component. The radiator, emanating the integrity of frozen cobwebs, was removed and stored and a plate welded between chassis tubes to support a tiny fan ground from its position.
"Axle stands were used to support the whole structure (although the word structure does imply levels of integrity that perhaps weren't obviously present)"
The gearbox and engine were then lifted out separately by myself and someone, who can quite frankly only be classed as the weakest person in the world, and the engine mounted on an engine stand. Oily differential, prop shaft and half shafts were then removed leaving a rolling chassis. This was a state that would not be seen again for a considerable time.
Axle stands were used to support the whole structure (although the word structure does imply levels of integrity that perhaps weren't obviously present) and the 'corners' started to be disassembled. Due to the time dependant bonding that had occurred between the bolts and the steel sleeves of the wishbone bushes most wishbone removal was performed by cutting of said bolt with careful hacksaw movements. On one wishbone, that had had some steel angle welded to it (???) the only method or removal was to actually cut the wishbone itself. One of the many low points in the re-build.
The corners were removed with upright and wishbones all together and these were then disassembled away from the chassis. This process followed the well worn path of hammer, hacksaw and spanner until the removal of the steel shaft from the bottom of the rear aluminium upright was attempted. The bar has the dampers and wishbones mounting to it and is, theoretically, only held in with the use of two notched cotter bolts. The slight rotation of both of these then leaves the lower bar free to slide out of the upright.
Cutting a long long story short the removal of these un moving bolts by drilling them out didn't even warrant slight movement from the well wedged steel shaft. The use of copious heat and the grinding of flats on the bar to allow a good vice grip resulted in nothing at all even vaigly comparable to movement. The only way that these little beauts could be removed was by the precise drilling of the shafts out of the aluminium. Not the easiest of tasks and made even harder by knowing the cost of a new upright.
The chassis was measured in all directions and to my great relief found not only to be without twist but also to be remarkably parallel / symmetrical etc. compared to some of the horror stories I has heard. This was then sent off for blasting as were all of the salvageable suspension components (It was quite a small box). The aluminium uprights were crack tested and professionally mended in the small area that actually needed looking at and new bearing races put in with a combination of heat and liquid nitrogen.
The chassis was returned sparkling white and, to my ecstatic pleasure, with all tubes getting a clean bill of health except the quite obviously knackered outriggers. These were mended with 16 gauge tube and the whole chassis coated with Acid Etch Primer and then numerous coats of Epoxy Mastic. I had heard many bad things about powder coating and knew that after it was chipped it looked terrible so after reading a fellow Vixenites website decided to give the Epoxy Mastic a try.
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