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After 25 members signed up on the website and three had to drop out—two bad colds and a last-minute change in plans—30 members actually showed up for luncheon at the Sea Dog brewpub in Camden on Pearl Harbor Day. (I say this because it turns out Millennials have no idea what once happened on December 7.) Kudos to the pub, which accommodated our happy and chatty group so well. The hostess sent us upstairs to the spacious and semi-private second floor, where we could be as noisy as we wanted, and our waitress Jen did an amazing job. She juggled all our orders, kept us primed with frequent beverage deliveries, and was completely unfazed by so many separate checks. (I believe she was well looked after in the gratuity department.) The weather was far too chilly for dining al fresco, but—and this is a hint to the Events Committee—the pub has a wonderful deck overlooking Camden Harbor that could serve us nicely in the summer months.

 

We delivered four new name tags and took orders for two more plus one re-do for bad spelling. Thanks to everyone who attended—you know who you were: Chet, Vicki, Chris, David, Donna, John, Laura, Gene, Sarah, Paul, Mark, Sandy, Pete, Paul, Katharina, Ed, Cheryl, Julie, Kelly, Nancy, the talented young Amelia, Cathleen, Ricardo, Brent, Anne, Gage, Greg, Patsy, Jeff and me, Sam Surprise.  

 

 






By Bob McKay

Each October a special event takes place on the lawn of the Breakers Mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. The Audrain Newport Concours & Motor Week has become a premier East Coast motoring event, and my Lotus Eleven Le Mans racer, a Lotus Team car that competed in the legendary 1957 Mille Miglia, was invited to the October 2024 Concours.


Three days before, we had loaded my green racer into a borrowed enclosed trailer and then the next morning my wife Jean and I drove to Newport from our home in Boothbay Harbor. The staging area in Newport was a huge parking lot about two miles from the Breakers. At 6:00 the following morning, my son Rob met me there. It was still dark with just a hint of the dawn to come. We looked at each other and said, “Let’s fire it up and head to the Breakers.” I think we hit every red light along the route. Being a race car, the Lotus is not meant to stop and go easily. We had to pop the clutch twice to re-start it, so we decided to ignore the red lights.


The loud exhaust alerted everyone at the huge iron gates of the Breakers that we were approaching. We were greeted by the orange glow of the rising sun and a number of staffers dressed in yellow jackets and hats. They escorted us to our assigned place on the expansive lawn that overlooks Narragansett Bay. To my surprise, we were positioned in the very first row of cars and centered on the steps of the beautiful mansion.


All the cars were in position by 8:30 and we were told to stand by because the judges would begin their inspections. Four judges from Sotheby’s Vintage Car group—armed with clipboards, asking questions, poking around the car and taking notes—surrounded us. There were 60 judges in total, all experts in their fields, to examine more than 170 cars.


At 10:30, it was announced that the judges were finished and that the awards were to be presented. An official approached me with a card that indicated the Lotus had won an award and asked me to stand by. I can’t describe my feelings other than WOW!


The awards in each class were given out in reverse order—third place, second and then first. The presentations started with the classes in the back of the field and worked their way to the front row, where I was. Each winning car drove through the crowd of spectators to get to the reviewing stand where all the dignitaries and trophies were waiting. It took about 45 minutes before it was our time to learn which cars in our group would receive awards. An official approached the car alongside me and said, ”Start your car.” That must be third place? He then walked past me and stopped four cars farther down the line. Second place? Then he came back in my direction and asked the driver next to me on the other side to start his engine, so that evidently was first place. Then he moved on to last group of cars, leaving me wondering what had happened. Was there a mistake when I was told that I had won an award?


Finally, when the final group of cars had been recognized, an official came to me and said, “Start your car and drive to the reviewing platform.” With a loud blast of the exhaust and a cloud of smoke, I drove through the crowd to the reviewing stand. After the president of the Audrain Concours gave a talk about preserving historic vehicles, a very dignified gentleman presented me a very special trophy: The Simeone Award For Historic Presence. It’s a beautiful bronze sculpture of an early race car, with driver and mechanic aboard, speeding through a turn with dirt and gravel kicking up.


Our drive back through the crowds and the streets of Newport was uneventful except for the big grin on my face and the trophy held tightly in my son Rob’s hands. It was a beautiful and rewarding day!


This Lotus Eleven, Chassis No. 308, has a great history as a team car for the Lotus works. It competed in the grueling 1,000-mile race in Italy known as the Mille Miglia and then went on to race in a number of Grand Prix with drivers Colin Chapman, Cliff Alison and Innes Ireland. The Lotus then came to the US to race for the Madison Avenue Sports Car Driving & Chowder Society, also known as Lotus Team USA. There is no record of the car being raced after 1962, since no alterations were made to meet the SCCA’s new safety requirements. Chassis No. 308 is in remarkable original condition. I acquired it in 1977 and have made minor safety additions so that I could race it in Vintage Sports Car Club of America events. I take special pride in keeping the car as original as when it was part of Team Lotus in 1957.


Bob McKay is a member of the MMSCC Board of Directors. He and Jean, his wife, host an annual club picnic at their home on Boothbay Harbor, where the storied Lotus is always a prime attraction.






Part 1: Re-Veneering the Wood

By John Brock

An aging Triumph can become like an elderly but spry Las Vegas lounge lizard—still serviceable internally, but shopworn and sun-damaged on the outside. Casinos have low lighting, but on a sunny day at a car show, dull paint and a cracked and peeling dashboard are very visible, and a played-out dashboard can be particularly disheartening. Although vestiges of its former glory remained, the dash on my ‘72 GT6 project was marred by flaws; both the wood and vinyl sections needed renewal, but I was budget-conscious and so this would be a DIY project. First I would redo the vertical wood section, and then the black vinyl horizontal piece.

 

The wooden dash is made up of three sections, each with a thin veneer covering. In my case, the right-hand section was cracked and needed replacement. Using it as a template, I cut a new one, and then used an adjustable hole-cutter and a drill press to create the circular opening for the passenger air vent.

 

Figure 1. Constructing a new section of the wooden dashboard.

 

Next, I glued a thin oak veneer to the three dash sections, using a special adhesive and a homebuilt press of plywood and C-clamps (Figure 2). Note the adhesive and roller applicator in the background in the picture on the right. When positioning the veneer, be sure to match up the grain pattern across the section borders.

 

Figure 2. New veneer positioned on the remade dash section, and the DIY veneer press in operation.

Once applied as a continuous sheet, the replacement veneer must be trimmed away at all openings (Figure 3), a step that is fraught with opportunities to slip or snag and ruin the new surface. Some folks may rely on an X-acto knife for delicate trimming, but I suggest a small handheld trim router. A complication here is that the instrument holes are stepped, with a shoulder, and thus a greater diameter on the outer side (see the leftmost Figure 3). The solution is to use a carefully selected offset trim router bit; note that I had to use tape to calibrate the depth of the “step” within tolerances. Using a patient and steady hand (skip the espresso!), trim the excess veneer out of each opening. Note that not all of them require a stepped cut.

 

Figure 3. Original dash section on a sheet of new veneer, showing the “stepped” instrument hole, the offset trim router and the partially trimmed left dash section.

 

Given the simplicity of ‘70s Triumph controls and gauges, I decided to skip labeling the switches (with its possibility of uneven lettering). Also as a matter of personal preference, rather than thick shellack I finished the new veneer with several light coats of clear polyurethane from a spray can (Figure 4).

 

Figure 4. The restored wooden dashboard for my 1972 Triumph GT6.

 

Next will be Part II, restoration of the black upper surface of the dash.

 





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