Re: Jeevan ke Safar mein Rahi. Travels and travails with Dev Yes MBZ, I don't believe in over-restoration. Amongst all the ways of destroying a car, perhaps the most common is to chrome plate parts that were not chromed in the original state. Of course, having said that, the hobby is individualistic and one should not impose ones standards on others.
All these thoughts were far from my mind 22 years back, after the Westend Rally in 1987. Just after the rally, I met Mr. K.C. Aswath, who lived on Lalbagh Fort Road. His cavernous workshop was a meeting place for many of the dyed in the wool car lovers of the time. There I met Mr. Ganesh Rao face to face, as also Mr. Balram Khandige. Both were fascinating story tellers. Mr. Ganesh Rao had the distinction of being the only individual who had taken delivery of a brand new TC in Bangalore, from their Agents, Addison and Company. Having had this first hand experience, Mr. Ganesh Rao was able to give an un-embellished view of driving the car. He was not too keen about the TC, and much preferred the TD, as a better handling vehicle. But for me, the TC was by far more stylish!
In Aswath's garage there was a bare chassis of a TC, Yet another TC stood in the open yard, a rough one, still running, painted red. Both belonged to Mr. Khandige. I would circle these cars, soaking in the sight of every detail. I daydreamed for hours of romantic drives in a TC with my wife. My car would be green, not red. It would always be raining. And I would sing to her too.
Alas, both cars were not for sale. I left my hopes with Mr. Ashwath, but really did not believe that I would be able to own a TC - I was convinced that these cars were beyond my reach. However, a few months later, I received a call from Mr. Khandige. There was a TC available, in fact two were for sale. Would I be interested in one? I jumped at the offer and was introduced to Mr. C. Ravikumar, the owner.
Ravikumar and Verena lived in Cambridge layout, alone, if you did not count twelve dogs and seventeen cars. A knock at their door triggered a paroxysm of fearful barking, but the dogs were friendly, when they got to know you. After the initial introductions, I went with Ravi to his garage in Lingarajapuram, and this is what I found!
There were two cars. One was a bare chassis, painted in red-oxide, with its body literally leaning against a wall. It was in bare metal, roughly painted over in red-oxide. However, the engine was still in one piece. The other car had its head off and its body, more complete than that of the first one, lying beside the chassis. It had been painted red. Both cars, I was told, had come from Bombay. Which would I pick? (there was no question that I would not pick one). I picked my car purely on the one criterion that its engine was still in one piece and not dismembered.
But where was the money? There was only one way to raise it, to sell our beloved Vauxhall. An acquaintance of a relative had shown interest and agreed on a price too, though we did not take him seriously. But when touched again, he agreed. So Aditi and I drove the Vauxhall to Hyderabad to deliver it to its new owner. I still remember the lump in my throat when he drove away. It was almost like betraying a lover to follow a new one. Even now I suffer pangs of guilt for having sold my first car. To all my Hyderabad friends, if ever you locate that Vauxhall, please let me know, I would love to have her back.
With money in hand, I went back to Ravi and in late 1987, I became the proud owner of TC 1009, manufactured in August 1946. Correction - I became the proud owner of a rusty pile of dented metal, some crumbling wooden body parts, a ladder like chassis with a silent engine mounted on it and four wobbly wheels with bald ADV tyres on them.
I will not forget the day we brought the car home. We pushed it from Lingarajpuram to Cooke Town, gathering a small crowd along the way. I ran alongside the chassis, kicking the tyres to change direction and jumping between the chassis members to yank the handbrake. My wife pushed too (she claims she had clocked more mileage pushing cars than riding in them). When we reached home, my father, stared mutely. His look said it all; You sold your running car, to buy THIS??? |