Just a coupla shots of me Pop – I never took any of it really, I was a glued-up punk rocker most of the time I had it, so these are just what I have what other people took. I’d had fun with me Yanks, but like everything in life, you always want to take it one step further – it’s the curse of boundless imagination and unfettered curiosity, combined with an ostentatious egomaniacal tendency (wow, a sentence full of big words and concepts and I ain’t even had me breakfast yet…).
I picked it up as a part finished project. In truth, it was pretty much complete, it ran and everythin, but it was the Twonky Pop style of the era (mid Seventies), with full fenders, slot mags all round (don’t you just hate it when they stick little miniscule 13 inchers on the front?), and painted the most disgustin pale Piss Yellow, with Shit Brown panel foggin (Christ, I was full of Evo-Stick and even I knew it looked shite). But it had independent Jag front and rear (must have been one of the first ever uses of a Jag front clip, so the dude must have known something), and a low slung but ever so quick Boss 302 ‘Stang motor in it. Instead of normal motor mounts, the motor was mounted from the exhaust manifold studs, so it was sat way down between the chassis rails. And with that slick suspension, it handled like it was on rails an all.
We picked it from Morecambe an I even drove it back. We did the old ‘broken rope’ trick, cos it weren’t MOT’d or insured or anything, so Smax was in front in the XL, with a tow rope trailin from hi
s back bumper, an I followed close behind in Pop. The plan is, if you spot a cop you pull over and say the rope’s just snapped. Anyway, we’re cruisin down the M6 about 70ish, and sure enough there’s a motorway patrol, so Smax anchors on, a bit too sharpish really and I can’t brake very well cos I’m sat on a box (there was no interior). So although I don’t hit him, I run me front wheels over the trailin tow rope, so there’s a bit of a twang and everythin gets sideways for a while. But we makes it to hard shoulder and puts on our innocent faces and starts tyin up tow rope to Pop. Cop swallows the tale and we get away with bein told to mind how we go – he doesn’t even notice Pop motor is red hot.
I liked the car as a base, but it couldn’t stay so twonky lookin, so I tore all the front end off it (and not just because one day when I was revving it up settin timing sat on 
front wings, the bloody auto box dropped into gear and it shot through end of garage, across yard, and through a wall into me dad’s field, with me still on it, although that didn’t do the front wings any favours anyway). I wanted a Fifties look – but who the hell was doing that in 1976, retro and ‘old skool’ was about 25 years off being invented. But I’ve always had a fetish for that era, so I just did it anyway. Chrome smoothies, wide whites, red mechanicals… There was no interior, so I sorted all that out (seats from a Vauxhall Viva – they even reclined), and there was just a bunch of wires hangin out dash, so I sorted some neat push-button switchgear – a whole row with an identical switch for everythin but no labels, so that was fun. I was better at sprayin by this time and shot it in an antique gold with green candy flames an yellow foggin (still from those ace Candy Apple spray cans – I told you I used them on everythin). With the bonnet junked the motor sat a bit low for looks tho, so I made an air-cleaner extension out of a BSA Goldie silencer (cos it had a nice taper on it) and got the whole thing chromed, which contrived to minimise the aesthetic gap for a mere modicum of effort and expense (hell, lots more big words, and still I’ve not had me flippin toast).
That’s it, I haven’t swallowed a dictionary, an I’m off to eat toast with lashings of ‘It Isn’t Butter But We’ll Make You Think It Is’ and Morrison’s blackcurrant jam. Yummie!