Went up to Edinburgh this weekend, partly for the rugby 
, partly to help a friend move in to her new flat.
The advance party had left many hours earlier with a van full of stuff. The mission for myself and another mate, which we must have been mad to accept, was to deliver our friends Corsa to her. Whilst my Dad always claimed second class riding was better than first class walking, I don't remember a Corsa 1.0 with a three cylinder Singer Special under the bonnet being factored into the equation. So Friday evening I scooted upto Sheffield to meet my mate and collect our drool inducing wheels.
Cruise control on the slog up the M1 and A1 to Newcastle was provided by a brick on the "loud" pedal. The fun started properly as we turned onto the A696 and are presented with a sign noting Edinburgh is a heady 98 miles away. Now, whilst my Ibiza TDI Sport and my mate's 147 JTD may not be the last word in hot hatches, they're both an enjoyable cross country punt IMHO. Oodles of torque mean hills and overtaking are effortless tasks. It appears however, that power was left un-ticked on the options list for this Corsa. The rev counter seemed to indicate noise levels rather than performance.
So, for the best part of 100 miles we gave the poor Corsa the drive of it's life. Momentum is everything when 0-60 is measured with a sun dial. Skinny tyres make handling interesting rather than assured. Still, given a long enough straight we did claim a few scalps whilst “charging” northwards. When we stopped at some temporary traffic lights somewhere near Jedburgh, the fine aroma of cooking brake pads wafted through the car, reminding me of the pit lane at Donnington during a track day.
When I've finished the course of Valium and seen the counsellor, I'll tell you about the ride back home in the Iveco van over the same route <gibbers>
, partly to help a friend move in to her new flat.The advance party had left many hours earlier with a van full of stuff. The mission for myself and another mate, which we must have been mad to accept, was to deliver our friends Corsa to her. Whilst my Dad always claimed second class riding was better than first class walking, I don't remember a Corsa 1.0 with a three cylinder Singer Special under the bonnet being factored into the equation. So Friday evening I scooted upto Sheffield to meet my mate and collect our drool inducing wheels.
Cruise control on the slog up the M1 and A1 to Newcastle was provided by a brick on the "loud" pedal. The fun started properly as we turned onto the A696 and are presented with a sign noting Edinburgh is a heady 98 miles away. Now, whilst my Ibiza TDI Sport and my mate's 147 JTD may not be the last word in hot hatches, they're both an enjoyable cross country punt IMHO. Oodles of torque mean hills and overtaking are effortless tasks. It appears however, that power was left un-ticked on the options list for this Corsa. The rev counter seemed to indicate noise levels rather than performance.
So, for the best part of 100 miles we gave the poor Corsa the drive of it's life. Momentum is everything when 0-60 is measured with a sun dial. Skinny tyres make handling interesting rather than assured. Still, given a long enough straight we did claim a few scalps whilst “charging” northwards. When we stopped at some temporary traffic lights somewhere near Jedburgh, the fine aroma of cooking brake pads wafted through the car, reminding me of the pit lane at Donnington during a track day.
When I've finished the course of Valium and seen the counsellor, I'll tell you about the ride back home in the Iveco van over the same route <gibbers>
