Bertie ended up spending the rest of 2023 – even over Christmas – and well into February 2024 being wheeled in and out of mechanics’ garages around Sussex. At one point I even had free storage when the mechanic went on a five week sabbatical!?!?
During this time there was a lot of teeth sucking and sighing and comments like ‘it’s going to cost you a fair bit love‘. I was very patient with the casual misogyny – the barely veiled implication that I could not possibly have my own means, skills and/or intellect. Smile and wave, smile and wave with (or without) a range of choice hand gestures.
I then had what appeared to be a genius idea – for all of 5 minutes. I would tow her to Essex, move back home and work on Bertie with my Dad. Then I came back to my senses. What on earth did me and my Dad know about turboed cars with ECUs? Just enough to know we should get someone else to look at it. Plus he had just acquired some custard yellow Triumph shitfire that he was determined to rebuild, for some unknown reason.
Then I had a properly genius idea to ask someone who had built their own Type R V Limited track car what to do. He had given me his number just in case I ever needed parts – knowing the location of an veritable Aladin’s Cave of Subaru spares. Having seen his work on the Revs Restore project Land Rover at Bicester Heritage, I knew he had some proper skills and knowledge.
So off she headed to be looked at properly by someone who would have a proper little look and a think before making shit up… I was dead chuffed, a proper Subaru enthusiast with the biggest hands I could find. I always find massive hands an incredibly reliable indication of the need for massive gloves, ability to open jars and classic car repair capabilities (I probably only believe this because my Dad has massive hands).
The event that made it clear it was more than just the engine that needed some work, was revealed by the ashen face of banana fingers on a video call shortly after the car was delivered to his workshop.
Having removed the dashboard and released the wiring looms down – as they fell down two wires that had previously been sitting side-by-side in close proximity – probably for years – dropped to embrace each other. There was a deep orange glow and a whistle of the fire whipping up a cable. Luckily the isolation switch was close by and was reached before the spark could spread. The fire safety stick, always on hand, was mercifully not needed.
Investigations behind the dashboard revealed a beautiful knitted tapestry of redundant and “what the hell does that do” wires. It was all woven together with 16 million cable ties, gaffer tape and chocolate block connectors.
There is no doubt as to how this happened. The guy who originally built Bertie, on finding what magic he had achieved in breeding a Subaru WR X and a Mark I Escort, shoved all of the wires together (with his best crochet skills) and got out on the road to enjoy the best car in the world. I suspect most of us would’ve done the same. And I was tempted, using the isolation switch as backup, to do exactly the same again. However, the fear of burning down my best friend was too much.
So it was agreed, regardless of what else might be wrong the wiring would require some tidying up too.