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JohnJo

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  1. JohnJo
    In the eight months since my last blog post I have entered my first winter as a Seven owner and come out of the other side. I was a bit worried going into the winter months mainly because I have an unpowered garage and the immobiliser on the Seven would eventually drain the battery if the car sat unused for long enough. Don’t get me wrong, I intended to use the car over winter as much as I could but only in the dry so there could be weeks at a time where she would be left to stand. Turns out about one month was the longest period.
    This meant removing the battery, bringing it into the house, and using a CTEK charger on it to keep it well conditioned and topped up. It was a real pain which often took away the spur of the moment drives but it had to be done. Me being me I decided that spring was the time to do something about it.
    As I saw it there were three approaches I could take to fix this problem. One, dig up the garden and concrete path so that power could be run to the garage. Two, move home to one with a powered garage. Three, fit a battery isolator switch to the Seven. I’m really lazy so I chose option three. I’m so lazy that I decided to pay someone else to do it. But who?
    This lead me onto my other winter dilemma. Who was going to service my Seven when the time came? Who could I rely on to fix her up when she eventually let me down? Who would take enough care when I want this or that other thing done? Not me. I’m lazy. Sure I could take her back to the excellent folks I bought her from but Kent is some considerable distance from the North of Hertfordshire. Even the fabled workshop near Ware was a fair distance from my village. I wanted the convenience of a local garage because, you know, I’m lazy.
    I discounted everyone I could find within a convenient distance from my home. Everyone except those exotic car guys in the next village over. These guys are all Ferrari, Lamborghini and the like and specialise in really early model cars. Big ticket ones. Tickets the size of the sun. Surely they know how to treat a car.
    --
    Dear all,
    I don’t suppose Caterhams are on your radar.
    Kind regards,
    John
    --
    Hi John,
    They most certainly are. Why don't you pop in and one of our engineers will sit and have a coffee with you while you discuss what you would like to have done?
    Regards,
    L
    --
    Sit and have coffee. Sounds super expensive already. I’m an idiot so I was in.
    A week later I was heading towards Big Ticket Autos (I made that up) in the Seven which I reached in about 7 minutes. I was confronted with imposing automatic wrought iron gates and a button on a pedestal. Attached was an intercom. Through the gates I could see approximately 8 million quids worth of old steel and new carbon fibre. It was all on wheels.
    I released the harness and swung open the door but it was prevented from opening fully by the pedestal. I drove forward so I could open the door fully but now I can't reach the intercom button. I drove backwards with the door open but even then I can't reach up to the height of the button. I move forward and get out. I hope no one saw that.
    "Hello, John here. You're expecting me."
    "Hi John, come through."
    The gates glide open and I park the Seven next to the cheapest looking thing I could see. Some kind of Porsche. They all look the same to me. (Ed: so do Sevens).
    Within one minute two well-dressed engineers are shaking me by the hand and showing me around the showrooms. I mean workshops but they could have been showrooms. I'm underneath a raised Enzo, I'm next to a 1960s racing Lancia, there's an E-Type over there with its engine out, here's a Dino and that looks like a Lamborghini monster truck. You can eat off the floors and there's not an oily rag in sight. The model boat in the window is designed and built by Ferrari. The guys talk like they're in love with the machines and I'm falling for it all hook, line and sinker.
    In truth I'm having a ball.
    You know that feeling you used to get as a kid when you went to a really good toy shop? You're kind of glazed over and all dreamy? Yeah, that was me.
    "So we've removed the engine from the Enzo and have found the oil leak. The replacement part will be here soon. We took the opportunity to check the clutch, given that the engine was out. That vintage Lancia was a bit tricky. We've had to remanufacture part of the <slips my mind> but it's all going back together now. It won a lot of races back in its time. It really is very rare. So the Caterham, what do you need doing?"
    Oh poop.
    "Ummm, mumble mumble"
    "Sorry Sir?"
    "Yes, I’d like a battery isolator switch fitted thank you very much"
    "Yes Sir, we'll come up with a plan for it. Absolutely no problem. We'd also like to book your car in for a two hour slot. We like to get to know our customer's cars personally. We'll give her a good checking over for you and then let you know about our plan for the switch. How does that sound?"
    "Take all my money. Here, just take it!"
    Engineer Dennis books me in and we walk outside. It's just the two of us and he seems nice.
    "Dennis, I know if I have to ask I can't afford it but how much do you guys charge?"
    Turns out it was £10 an hour more expensive than the guys who dealt with my old Audi. Not cheap, but I thought remarkably affordable given my expectations.
    I left Big Ticket Autos (I made that up) feeling that I'd just been to the theatre. It was just so utterly entertaining. I never did get a coffee, though one was offered, but I’m willing to bet it was made from some of the best coffee beans money could buy.
    Part 2 to follow (possibly). Dropping off the Seven, having her checked over and that isolator switch.
  2. JohnJo

    It's a Revelation

    By JohnJo,

    The last time I wrote on here was about two months ago. That is the length of my experience with a Caterham Seven so I thought it might be entertaining to share what I’ve discovered about Seven ownership from the perspective of a complete novice and by way of a journey home.
     
    When I say entertaining I probably mean “boring” but there’s an outside chance that veterans might find an opportunity to point and laugh at me and prospective owners might find solace in the fact that they’re not the only ones without a single solitary clue.
     
    When I sacrificed a new kitchen for my Seven it really was a leap into the dark and, rumour has it, a bit of an impulse purchase. Sure I’d coveted a Caterham. Sure I’d seen them from a distance … briefly … and sure I knew that some bloke called Colin once had one but that was about it.
     
    My experience in control of one extended to a five minute test drive and I would soon have to pick my car up and drive it home around the M25 motorway.
     
    The day before picking the car up was spent in mild preparation on YouTube where I tried to gain some insight into what my journey back home might be like (65 miles). Many videos about something called the Caterham Academy popped up. It all sounded very educational so I dove straight in. Horror crash after horror crash had me opening a bottle of wine.
     
    The next morning was a blur of nervousness and self-doubt from which I awoke standing beside an Azure Blue 140SV 6 Speed LSD with keys in hand and heart in mouth.
     
    Newbie Fact: Getting into a Caterham requires presence of mind and a clear well-rehearsed order in which things should be done. There is no point strapping yourself into your harness unless the keys are in the ignition, the side door is secured and the detachable steering wheel is in place. A number of very nice people didn’t laugh at me.
     
    Engine running, first gear, pull away and I was off.
     
    NOISE!
     
    But if I can be serious for a moment.
     
    NOISE!
     
    These things are loud, and I’m not just talking about engine noise. I can hear the differential, the road, the clanging and the clattering of that thing, the burble from the exhaust, the rattle from that other thing. The distinct impression was one of an imminent complete system failure.
     
    Newbie Fact: Caterhams make all kinds of weird noises. Yours is not the only one. You haven’t somehow accidentally bought the Lego kit.
     
    Minor roads, bigger roads, Dartford Tunnel (ON PURPOSE NOISE!), M25.
     
    Then a weird sort of comforting comparative silence. I hit the slow lane and poodled at 60mph. This soon changed after I decided it would be better to be ahead of the BIGGEST LORRIES IN THE WORLD rather than be overtaken by them …. slowly …. while looking at the fine detail in the tread of their tyres … their massive, heavily laden tyres.
     
    Newbie Fact: (Disclaimer: my experience only) Other road users will either love your Caterham or hate it. Lorry drivers are nervous around you because their wing mirrors don’t have the resolution to resolve down to a Caterham. Van drivers have taken it personally that you have a neat car. Kids in the back seat of their parent’s car think you are a God. Bikers will buzz you just to take a look. BMW drivers will try to race you and then pretend they weren’t really trying anyway. Other Caterham drivers will wave at you like excited schoolgirls. You will do the same.
     
    The journey on the M25 was not as bad as I expected. There’s a sort of vulnerability mixed with a feeling of invincibility when in a Caterham. It’s a very odd combination that stayed with me after I left the motorway and joined the A and B roads.
     
    Then I was on the home straight and back into my village, past the local pub (wave), left into my road and down the slope to my garage.
     
    What an utter revelation driving a Caterham is. I used to ride a motorbike, briefly. That was the only time I felt a similar feeling. Utterly connected and involved. Once out of the car the world felt like it had slowed down while I was like some kind of jacked up wasp.
     
    Newbie Fact: When you get back into your normal daily road car it will feel like a bag of sponges. This is normal. The feeling will pass.
     
    It struck me, standing outside my garage next to a burbling sports car, that I own a Caterham. What struck me even harder was that I have a very small garage and that I had not taken any measurements before deciding to own a Series 5 chassis car.
     
    Newbie Fact: It’ll fit. Don’t sweat it. But don’t be an Uber-Noob. Measure it.
     
    Since then I have commuted to work in the Seven at every opportunity. I bought the car at the perfect time … the hottest summer since 1976 and in two months I’ve put about 650 miles on the clock.
     
    Newbie Fact: When your oil pressure suddenly drops into the red it’s probably the electrical oil pressure sender which, I believe, were sourced from the actual Caterham Lego kit. Have it replaced with a mechanical oil pressure gauge.
     
    A final word. It is the dirty secret of the Caterham and is heralded in by the following words in the manual:
     
    “Engine oil levels. These cannot be checked too often”.
     
    It seems to me that checking the engine oil level in the Caterham is exquisitely tricky. The company must have put together some of its best minds to come up with such a testing regime. I have a 1.8 K series wet sump engine. The advice from Caterham is that the engine needs to be RUNNING and up to temperature before checking the oil. The dip stick is hard to read and way too similar a colour to that of engine oil. The difference between full and not very full is not that much oil at all. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it but honestly … if engine oil levels “cannot be checked too often” then surely there must be a better way. You know, one where two consecutive readings return the same result?
     
    Mind you, if I wanted normality, I would have bought a kitchen.
  3. JohnJo
    There comes a time in every man's life when he simply has to accept that he's not going to live forever and that he may as well do something about it. At such a time, things that were important become less so, things that seemed ridiculous become reasonable and things that were boring make way for things that are Interesting.

    That's what happened to my new kitchen. It made way for something interesting. So while I make a fresh pot of coffee in what I can only describe as squalor let me tell you about my recent trip to Brands Hatch which is just south of IKEA and to the left of B&Q.

    I’ve wanted a replacement "classic" ever since I started missing Natasha, the old Triumph I used to nurse along England's B roads, and what started with some idle Googling ended up with a relatively benign question.

    "I think I might go and look at a car this weekend. Do you fancy coming with me?"

    "Ok"

    "It's a sports car"

    "Ok"

    "A Caterham"

    "Ok"

    She had no idea and I knew it.

    So one Saturday morning we jumped into the Mazda and cruised down to Sevens & Classics via a significant portion of the worst motorway in the World. Arriving at what I can only describe as a very tidy industrial estate we randomly chose left at the entrance and stumbled upon ten or so gleaming Caterhams all parked up in neat rows.

    "Wow", she said.

    Wow indeed, but all was not well. After getting over the sheer shiny good looks consideration fell to the interiors, the foot wells, the "seating arrangements". She looked distracted, like something was playing on her mind.

    "We’re not getting in one of those", she said.

    "Ok"

    "There’s no room"

    "Ok"

    "Did you know they were this tiny inside?"

    "Ok"

    I had no idea and she knew it.

    It was very clear that I was not going to buy a Caterham, which is odd because I’m picking it up on Monday.

    There were two saving graces that morning. The extra room afforded by a series 5 chassis and Tim, one of the Sevens & Classics crew who insisted that he take my girlfriend "for a ride".

    She came back with an impossible smile on her face, messed up hair and trembling knees. Not the first time that sort of thing has happened to me.

    "I love it!", she said.

    "Are you ok?", I replied.

    I’d already had a ride along and a test drive myself and other than completely failing to get the hang of first gear I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The brutality of it. The noise. The excitement.

    Tim wandered off and returned with coffee and suggested that while he busied himself elsewhere my girlfriend and I should take ourselves off to the outdoor seating area for a private chat. I sparked up a rollup, she a readymade.

    I have to say I was totally taken aback by how keen she was on the whole idea. I wasn't convinced about the colour, she thought it was lovely. I wasn't convinced about the price, she said new kitchens are rubbish. I wasn't convinced about the K series engine, she looked at me oddly.

    "Buy it", she said.

    "Ok", I replied.
     
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