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March-April 1997: The East African TR Factory-or-TRiumph over TRibulation by Daffyd Edwards

This is the tale of mainly two-but sometimes four-TR enthusiasts who just happened to be in Kenya at the same time, met up by chance, and ended up rebuilding their TR’s side by side.

Dafydd Edwards is an electronic engineer by profession, and was the Managing Director of GPT Plessey in Nairobi. Willie Felger -that’s me- is a member of the Royal Air Force and I was stationed in Nairobi as the Naval and Air Attache.

We both happened to be at the same party where Dafydd - whom I hadn’t met - was chatting to my wife over a cooling drinky-poo. For some reason the conversation turned to cars, and on being told that he had an old Triumph sports car my wife asked: "Which one?" to which Dafydd replied: "A TR4". My wife Sue (bless her) promptly dropped me in it by saying: "Oh, my husband thinks that’s a hairdresser’s car- he likes TR3’s". As the numbers dwindled and the survivors gravitated ever nearer to the bar, Dafydd and I came to meet and must have decided that despite the thinly-veiled insults we could probably tolerate each other’s company if we tried.

Having set the scene, let’s go back to the beginning - so relax, preferably with a cooling tincture, sit yourself comfortably - and we’ll begin.

The VCCCK

I arrived in Nairobi a week or so before the 1991 Safari Rally, and started to settle in at the office, moved out of a superbly comfortable hotel into an empty house with a pile of boxes in the garage - you know the scene - and duly sent for the memsahib. By the time she arrived I had spotted an item in the paper announcing a forthcoming Concours d’ Elegance which was an annual event run jointly by Alfa Romeo Owners Club and the Vintage and Classic Car Club of Kenya. I went along - it was incidentally also my first visit to the very picturesque racecourse - and I was amazed at the incredible range of wonderful cars and the friendliness of the equally-varied owners. The cars ranged from a pristine V12 E-Type and a hand-painted Ford Prefect, to a wartime Jeep and Robert Redford’s safari truck from "Out of Africa", with a great variety of trucks, cars and motorbikes in between. Apart from the revelation of finding so many glorious cars in the middle of Africa, I was surprised at the friendliness of everyone I met, and impressed by the complete lack of snobbery involved. Among the interesting cars parked around the VCCCK tent was a white TR4 which turned out to belong to aforesaid Dafydd Edwards. I had no car - not apart from my trusty Land rover that is - but I found that I could join the VCCCK as an enthusiast and promptly signed up.

Driving in Kenya - the African FacToR

Kenya is a big place. The scenery can be breathtakingly spectacular and the flora and fauna almost unnaturally beautiful in their colours and variety. For such a big place there are remarkably few roads, and although there are plenty of unmade ones, only those connecting major towns have tarmac on them. There are even fewer good metalled roads, so the scope for driving in a classic car is somewhat limited. The condition of the roads is somewhat patchy (no pun intended) and their condition varies according to the subsoil, the rainfall and the state of the Council’s finances. The few tarmac roads are laid on top of the very fine red soil with the result that they suffer very badly during rains, and need major attention afterwards. The highway department does its best, but can’t really cope. Added to that is the alarming tendency for the public utilities to dig trenches across the road to lay cables or repair pipes, and to leave without properly filling them in. Their excuse is that it’s the road menders' job, and they can’t afford the tarmac and they don’t have the men or machines. You have to admit, you can’t fault their logic! The Nairobi-Mombasa road is not for the faint hearted. It’s no wider than a British B-road and it stretches as far as London to Edinburgh. There’s no centreline, the edges are indistinct and either badly broken up or adjoin a range of unpleasant hazards. The road itself is pockmarked with holes and splits according to the subsoil and the weather. As if that wasn’t dangerous enough, huge road trains of up to 80 tons ply the route day and night. Most have bald tyres and no lights and they frequently break down - often through overheating or suspension collapse. When they do, they are left where they are with nothing more than a few branches or stones on the road to warn of their presence.

In town the driving is utterly undisciplined and makes the BMW brigade on the M25 look like wimps. Worst are the local minibuses called Matatus. They are privately owned and compete for business by being the first at each bus stop. Most are customised and carry some very imaginative artwork. All have a name or a slogan as an identity. My favourite was called the "Father of All Sharks" and on the back was painted the slogan: "Fight With the Best - Die Like the Rest" They will stop three abreast blocking the whole road, whilst the "touts" do their best to persuade reluctant passengers to choose their Matatu in preference to the others. Now imagine yourself behind the wheel of a priceless 1934 Bentley Park Ward Sports saloon , or a concours-winning 1930 Ford Model A Tudor and you’ll appreciate that driving out there was not at all dull! Even for a tough car like a TR life could be quite exciting. Anyway, back to the point of this tale...

The Inimitable Johnny Wroe

As my VCCCK membership bumph arrived I noticed that the gathering of cars, an al-fresco lunch and the prize-giving for an earlier event were about to be held in the garden of a chap called Johnny Wroe. John just happened to own about 30 old cars and is the epitome of the East African settler. Big and jovial, ever helpful and extremely talented at fixing things, John has rebuilt all his cars and is a mine of useful information and hilarious stories. During a tour of his garage which house a Rolls, a Bentley, said International Harvester truck of Robert Redford / Meryl Streep fame and even a Lotus Seven, I espied a TR3A chassis semi-buried in the red soil and inhabited by termites.

"What are you planning to do with that, John?" -ask I.

"Please God, not again" mutters Sue.

"Haven’t thought about it, it’s been here for years" replies John.

"Just wondering..."

"Don’t you dare!" mutters Sue through clenched teeth(*)

(*Sue’s been here before, as I have owned two ‘56 TR3’s over the years -TS 12488 and TS 9859. I know that the latter is in Germany, but what about TS12488-RGG 569?)

John also has a yellow ‘62 TR4 (CT 6628) in very nice condition, but which was frustratingly unreliable because it suffered from persistent and totally illogical electrical problems. John had earlier bought a loom, but wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, so I offered to help and greatly enjoyed myself playing around in the innards of his TR for a couple of days rewiring and generally cleaning up the electrics. It had been "repaired" by an old but adventurous Indian gent who knew about as much about electrics as I do about nuclear physics, but that’s another story. Sadly, John didn’t want to sell it, but soon afterwards a very dusty chassis and a back axle arrived at my house on a truck as a thank-you, and I was hooked-again!

The Gymkhana

The Annual Gymkhana was not far off, and marshals and helpers were being requested in the club Newsletter. Notwithstanding the sound military principle that you never volunteer for anything, a telephone call was made in a weak moment and I duly found myself roped in to help. To cut a long story short, Sue and I ended up not marshaling, but driving Dafydd’s TR4. Despite the unnecessary weight of the windows it went like the proverbial greased weasel, and we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in second place. That did two things for us: it reminds us what fun it is to be actively involved in a club, and it renewed our long-standing affection for TR’s.

TRacing the rest

One of the good things about such a small old-car community is that everyone knows everybody and everything, and within a few weeks I found myself being shown the very battered remains of a white TR3A body tub bearing the commission number TS 82169. A price was eventually agreed with Don Smith the owner, who also had a ‘62 TR4 (CT 7918). A trace request was dully sent off to Bill Piggott, and my car turned out to have been a white hard top car with blue trim, steel wheels and no heater, which had been delivered new to Standard Triumph (Kenya) Ltd in September 1961. Unfortnately, there was no number plate attached to my car, and the pre-independence car registration records no longer existed at the Licensing Department, so I was sadly unable to trace its local history.

Not only did I have a chassis frame and body of sorts, but a search through Johnny Wroe’s many sheds revealed three TR engines, including the original one from my car. Some time later the gearbox turned up as well, so I now had a car with all its original major components! Because the chassis frame came with the correctly-numbered back axle, I felt pretty safe assuming that it too, was part of the original car. The down side was that it was all in very poor condition.

The Postman gets muscles

At first the list was modest enough: suspension bushes, trunnions, ball joints, brake pipes, slave cylinder and caliper repair kits from Messrs Cox and Buckles. But soon it was shock absorbers and springs, brake discs and wheel bearings. The steering box traveled both ways as I was warned off local "specialist" -shouldn’t parcels get air miles? The postie was curious, and getting fitter as the weeks passed and the parcels got bigger and heavier. A special offer from the TR Shop (too good to miss) saw the postman fitter still as pistons and liners, a wood rim steering wheel and wire wheel conversion kit joined the growing pile. A phone call to a slightly surprised chap called Chris Bull in the UK brought a chatty letter, two good doors, a gearbox tunnel and spare wheel cover. A working visit to the Farnborough Air Show some months later added some second-hand instruments and switches from a chap in Battersea. I made friends with the Northern TR Centre who were fantastic at mail order and many others who - apart from one or two sad exceptions - provided a very good service. Dafydd found the Belgian TR parts people very efficient, and he invested heavily in DHL.

TeRmite Fertiliser

Stripping down the chassis frame to bare metal revealed some previously little know facts. We all know that s..t sticks, but I bet you didn’t know that termite s..t sticks even better . So well in fact, that most of it is still there because it is as hard as hell to remove. It also seems to be a good preservative as it is quite waxy, and beneath it the inside of the frame was mostly clean as a whistle! After a bit of minor straightening and some masterly welding by Dafydd, the chassis was pronounced fit, primed and painted and put back together with all those shiny suspension and brake bits.

Piston Broke

Any hopes that the engine would give in easily quickly faded. It too, had collected its share of termite s..t, and despite boiling the liners, pistons and conrods in diesel oil leaving them to soak for two weeks, nothing moved. Eventually I had no choice but to smash the liners with a club hammer so that I could recover the conrods. They looked OK at first but it transpired that three matched, but one was different and was probably from a Standard Vanguard! Johnny Wroe’s place provided a set that did match, and these were straightened and crack- tested , cleaned and polished as per Mr. Kastner’s tuning book. The block was carefully cleaned, and the flywheel lightened, the crank micropolished and the whole lot balanced together with the clutch. One of Mr. Kent’s road cams was fitted and the engine carefully reassembled. The cylinder head was clearly going to be a problem, as the head face was pitted and the valves were quite badly pocketed. As I wanted it modified for sprinting and there was no local gas flowing expertise I took it with me on a trip back to the UK. Ever seen what a TR cylinder head looks like on an airline x-ray machine? It really grabs their attention!

A long chat with Terry Hurrell at Triumphtune resulted in a beautifully finished job a few weeks and much money later, (only kidding dear) and which was returned to Nairobi by a passing air force chum in time for the car’s first anniversary.

Enter Jehosaphat

Jehosaphat was my day guard, and a splendid fellow. To keep himself amused whilst doing an excruciatingly boring job he kept the garden spick and span, but he also developed a liking for scraping old paint and rust off bent metal. His enthusiasm quickly became a passion when he found that he could double his pay by doing so. I quickly had a gleaming, but still very bent shell, and Jehosaphat soon had a gleaming bike, which was his pride and joy. Whilst removing paint, gunge and termite fertiliser from the scuttle, he discovered that the floor of the battery box had a broad arrow and the number 1942 stamped in it. That must be the 1002nd use for an old ammo box!

Concours Time Again

By now Dafydd - ably assisted by Frederick, his swimming pool man - and I had been doing our respective "thing" for a year, and were about level-pegging on progress. The chassis frames were finished and looked superb with all their new bit and bobs, and my engine really looked smart with its fancy manifolds and lots of shiny bits. We were persuaded that our efforts would add a certain something to the club stand at the Concours, so we obediently trailered our partly-built cars to the racecourse. The locals were fascinated, but convinced that we were completely barmy. It made no sense to them that these " mzungus " (white faces) should work so hard on such awful old cars when they had enough money to buy new ones. Our wives are convinced that they are right, and that your average African has more sense than all old cars buffs put together. But then what do they know...

The TR Production Line

By now Dafydd and I were at the stage where we often needed each other’s help with lifting and aligning awkward pieces of metal, and Dafydd’s MlG welder was spending so much time in transit between our garages we decided to pool our resources at his place. He had a very large garage and - being a trained engineer unlike me - a much greater repertoire of skills, not to mention a compressor and a chain hoist! The search for small but essential bits was becoming increasingly time-consuming but it did not take us to some interesting places. One dark back-street compound housed an enterprise that rebuilt ex-army lorries. It yielded a great pile of brand-new spares for Standard Vanguards. These had been bought up as a job lot when the RAF left in the mid-sixties by the owner - who was a splendid old Indian gentleman - and carefully kept for more than 25 years. He was delighted to part with some of these including a new starter motor and all at 1966 prices. Would you believe one pound for a new TR3 rear lamp? The second great find - by Dafydd - was an old store at the local Land Rover agent, who had kept a huge stock of obsolete BMC, Lucas and Girling parts from his days as the Austin, Morris, Jaguar and Rover dealer. (sadly not Triumph as well) We got from him as much as we could carry in the way of bearings, seals, gaskets, light fittings, hoses and even a new wiper rack for around a tenner! My personal coup was a brand new Girling brake master cylinder for under three pounds. Poor old postie was feeling decidedly neglected by now.

Progress

After 18 months of steady work, the cars were beginning to take shape. Dafydd’s 4 had new sills and floors, but was found to have been crashed and badly repaired. So, a new front suspension tower was ordered from the UK. Disappointingly, it took many months to arrive and when it did it was nowhere near the right shape, and needed much fettling to fit. The front of the body shell was also found to be crooked and the front panel had to be replaced. However, thanks to careful measuring and patient fitting it all went together as it should and looked superb. As the rebuilt engines and gearboxes were fitted to the two chassis, new exhaust brackets were designed and made and various small but desirable mods were incorporated into my 3A. After a weekend of intensive welding and paint spraying I suddenly found myself bolting the body shell to the chassis. I could hardly believe it - I had a car! Although I had restored a TR3 from a wreck before it was almost complete, and the starting point of this one was much lower. In fact, had I been in the UK I would not have contemplated such a crazy undertaking, as it would have been easier, cheaper and a lot more sensible to buy a better car in the first place. Still, when you’ve got the only known one in Kenya, you can’t be choosy!

Mkokoteni into Gari

The local traders transport their produce piled high on home-made hand carts. These use old car axles and wheels as a basis, and are called ‘mkokoteni", and it wasn’t long before Jehosaphat likened the home-made device I pushed round the yard to a mkokoteni. OK, so what’s yours called? After the bodyshell was bolted to my chassis, rapid progress was made towards the stage where I planned to tow the TR behind my Land rover to circulate the oils and loosen it all up before trying to fire it up. Before doing that I thought I’d just crank it over on the starter to confirm that I had oil pressure. No - I didn’t bother to take the plugs out, and yes - I did turn the ignition key just in case, and guess what - yes - it fired first time! To Frederick’s delight I drove it a few yards whereupon he proclaimed that it wasn’t a mkokoteni any more, but was now a "gari m’zuri sana" - a very good car! I spent the rest of the evening with an ice-cold Tusker beer in my hand grinning like an idiot.

Other Kenyan TR’s

It would be churlish not to mention two other TR’s. Whilst Dafydd’s TR4 was off the road, he was lent Johnny Wroe’s yellow peril to drive on the annual run to Mount Kenya - no dear, not right to the top, only to a lodge at the bottom. Out of the blue came the offer of another VCCCK member’s TR for the weekend which I accepted with alacrity! This was a nicely restored red 67 4A (CTC 74765 O), which was extensively tuned and went like the wind, even at 9,000 feet and despite weight of the windows. It was my first experience of an IRS car, and I’m grateful to Ronnie Andrews for his kindness. Soon afterwards I heard of a TR6 for sale and went to investigate. It was a LHD car (CG270.72.L) with Stromberg carbs and its old Ontario number plates in the boot. I declined, but the indomitable Johnnie Wroe eventually added it to his collection, and will restore it in due course. I also got to know a chap called Robbie Taylor, who was the manager of Marshalls Motors (East Africa) Ltd. in Kampala, Uganda. They used to be the Triumph distributors and in the 50’s and 60’s he used to race TR2’s and 3’s at Embakasi racetrack - now sadly buried under Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, Nairobi. Robbie was an amusing and outgoing chap who loved to talk about cars, but he became strangely reticent when asked about the fate of the cars he used to race. I have a sneaking suspicion that he knows where they are, and that more than one will turn up soon. I also noticed an ad in a recent VCCCK magazine offering a white TR3 for sale, so there are obviously still a few about! Whilst corresponding with the old Register Office some time back, I got a note from a lady called Daph to say that her father had a white 3A when he worked in Nairobi for BOAC / British airways in the 60’s -could mine be the same one. I wonder?

Tempus Fugit

Sadly, my tour in Kenya was rapidly drawing to a close, and arrangements were made to store the unfinished car to await shipment back to the UK. I had collected together what little documentation I could, and after a very helpful exchange of letters with the DVLA I was reasonably confident that it could be re-imported without difficulty, and so it proved. Thirty-three years after leaving TS 82169 was back in England.

The KVG

During my year back in England I joined the Kennet Valley Group, and enjoyed a number of fun events in the company of some great people. I won’t forget sharing Andy Somerville’s beautiful red 3A to drive from Marlow up to Stafford for the International Weekend in company with Richard Owen’s equally rapid 3A. Andy generously let me drive back, which we did via Dafydd and Marion Edwards’ house at Leamington Spa for a cuppa and a look over his 4. There can’t be many enthusiasts like Andy who runs his car all year round, yet is brave enough to enter it in all the local shows as well as the Stafford International Concours. I personally thought it put the others in the shade, but then I’m slightly biased and no Concours judge. Dafydd got his own back with a vengeance when he told me that he now had a real hairdressers car to show me. Not only did this one have wind-up windows but they were electric, and to make matters worse it also had an automatic gearbox. OK, how was I to know he’d got a DB6! Anyway, it might be nice, but it still ain’t a real car. Notwithstanding this failed attempt at humiliation, I got home deaf, sunburned and with a grin from ear to ear. Thanks Andy!

Kuwait

One of the many good things about the RAF is its tendency (if you like that sort of thing) to send you to strange and exotic places. True to form, barely halfway through my new tour Sue and I found ourselves in Kuwait. Between us we had been to Aden and Bahrain, and we were expecting a noisy, dusty and rather tumble-down place. We were to be pleasantly surprised, as Kuwait is much bigger, cleaner and altogether more cosmopolitan than we were expecting. Its recovery from the savage vandalism it suffered during its invasion by Iraq is astonishing. Although much of the infrastructure was systematically wrecked, it has all been carefully restored and there is now little sign of the war around Kuwait city. The roads are wide and smooth, the cars are mostly modern and powerful, and the driving is er.. interesting. Most Kuwaitis would have no trouble at all qualifying for a starring role in one of those police videos. I have been issued a 5.7 litre Chevrolet which burns tyres at the slightest provocation - and I still feel intimidated. The ladies - who drive fully veiled - are usually engrossed in conversation on their mobile phones as they blast by in their large Mercedes. The fact that they can’t see doesn’t seem to be much of a handicap and doesn’t bother them in the slightest. Even from the comparative safety of my two tons of American gas-guzzler they are awesome and definitely not to be trifled with . There is of course, a positive side to driving out here as there’s no road tax and I just paid a fiver for 70 litres of super. Within two weeks of arriving here, I noticed an ad for a TR8 drophead in the paper, and went to investigate. It was a non-runner, and as I didn’t yet have a civilian driving licence I didn’t buy it for two reasons. First, only a fairy drives a car with less than 5-litres out here and second, having survived the Kenya old car scene by the skin of my teeth, I could sense a messy divorce staring me in the face so I chickened out. Sorry chaps!

In Conclusion

In concluding, perhaps I might be allowed to give the Register a pat on the back. Soon after arriving in High Wycombe from Kenya, I picked my nearest local group out of the WOHFTB section of TR Action, and set off alone to meet a bunch of complete strangers. Any trepidation I may have felt was completely unfounded. Not only were they very friendly; they didn’t mind in the slightest that I wasn’t in a TR. Even among such a friendly and enthusiastic group it’s curious that there are many members in the area who never turn up at a meeting. It really is a pity that you don’t, because you’ll enjoy it. My last meeting a few days before leaving to come out here was very enjoyable darts match against the Vale of the White Horse mob, which included Rosy Good, Bill Piggott and Glen Hewett - complete with his amazing replica TR3S. I suppose when you haven’t got beer, pubs or TR’s perhaps you appreciate such things more but, whatever the reason, I would like to thank Richard Roberts, Julian Taylor, Nick Battle, Richard Owen, and particularly Andy Somerville for all the fun, friendship and encouragement. Finally, I would like to congratulate our Chairman and his committee for their dedication in keeping the register so firmly on the rails. In my humble opinion it is going from strength to strength, and their business oriented approach can only augur well for the future. I wish you well, and will watch the continued growth of the club with great interest until I can return to take a more active part. Inshallah! With best wishes for many TRouble free TRips,

PS. If anyone knows where my old 1956 TR3 - RGG569 / TS 12488 - is, I’d love to know. Last I saw of it was in the Wembley area in 1969.