F690 OTF - Maestro 1.3 Special

My first memories of Michael, a 1988 1275cc Maestro Special, hark back to the occasion when my father returned from work driving, instead of our 1979 Allegro 1500, a new car with no shiny bits on it. I was only 6 at the time, and so I imagine I was disappointed at the lack of chrome. Such thoughts were soon banished when he took us for a drive up the road, and I was immediately enamoured with the number of coloured lights (well, I thought there were a lot at the time!). As one does at that age, I soon got bored with my new toy, and it just became "the car" (although we also had a red 1986 Mini Chelsea). As my brother, who was (and still is, strangely enough) two years younger than me, and I grew up, Michael faithfully took us on holiday to Wales eight years on the trot. As these years passed, we each occupied more room, and each took more paraphernalia with which to weigh down Michael's aching suspension. Nonetheless, he remained faithful to the task, with the only notable problems being the problem with the boot catch which temporarily made it impossible to open the boot from the inside, and the loss of a wheel trim. We rapidly gained interest on our holidays in reaching places further and further removed from civilisation along steep and winding Welsh lanes, but Michael continued to excel. By now it was about 1996, and we had gone to the trouble of purchasing from Halfords roof bars and a roof box, to contain all the luggage we added to every year. In 1997 and 1998 we deserted Wales for two years and spent a few weeks in the Lake District, the only significant difference from Michael's point of view being much more motorway to get there, but the distance was virtually identical to that required to get to North Wales. In 1999, we returned to Wales again. If anyone is wondering whether we spend all our time on holiday, the answer is no, but the annual family holiday was always Michael's hardest, and most faithful, work.

In 2000, my 17th birthday came, and I learned to drive in Michael, under my Dad's instruction. Michael endured the inevitable quantity of kerb-touchings, gear-grindings and other such erratic behaviour, but continued to be reliable. We were unable to take a holiday that year, which was, I think, a source of relief in certain quarters; the idea of me driving round Welsh or Cumbrian lanes, mere inches from dry stone walls, on L plates, struck fear into the hearts of certain family members. In October, a massive (I felt) six months after my birthday, I took my test in Michael and passed (OK, so it was the second time...). If anything, passing my test increased the number of near misses we encountered together; the opportunity to drive on my own allowing me to get to know Michael and his behaviour more intimately. Strangely enough, now that we had more people driving the car, the annual mileage went up from about 10000 to nearer 12000. It was whilst I was still on L plates that I had the opportunity of driving the car over the 100000 mile mark.

In 2001, I drove some church friends up to Leicester for the Banner of Truth Youth Conference. It was my first long distance motorway driving on my own on unknown territory, and we had absolutely torrential rain on the M1. Michael, as ever, plodded on as reliable as ever. The alternator belt continued to slip (and thus squeal) when it got wet, but there were otherwise no problems. In between my tests, we had experienced a problem with the cooling system; a spot weld on the pipes just inside the cabin area leading to the heater matrix caused a leak, and we ended up with cooling water soaking the passenger footwell. Once we had eventually identified the problem, it was fairly easily fixed, but the identification itself was a task and a half.

In the summer of 2001, I finished school early after A-Levels, and my brother did the same after GCSEs, so we took the opportunity to holiday in Scotland before the grouse shooting started. Several family members and friends expressed concern at us covering twice our normal distance (still in one day, due to the extortionate prices of overnight accommodation en route) in such an aged car with what they perceived to be a small engine. As was to be expected, we took more luggage than ever before, but Michael continued to provide a plethora of nooks and crannies in which we were able to stuff everything we needed (and lots we didn't, of course!). Through 70mph motorway driving, 5mph motorway driving, sidewinds, lashing rain and bright sunshine, we made it. 540 miles in 13 hours (we're all fairly tall, and thus have to take fairly regular breaks to stretch our legs, so that wasn't 13 hours of constant driving). Whilst there were less single track roads in Scotland than Wales or the Lake District, we had to cover a lot more distance to find anything interesting, and covered between six and eight hundred further miles in the two weeks. When the time came to leave, we gave Michael a quick check over, and started on our way. We zig-zagged across country to get to the A9, and it was practically 70mph from here to Reading. Probably the hardest work Michael's ever done; 10-11 hours at high revs (only a 4 speed gearbox, of course). The temperature gauge was just above half way practically all the time, so the cooling fan was always on, but Michael got us home as reliably as ever, to the relief and amazement of all those who had previously prophesied doom!

Once we had got back from Scotland, it was sadly time to scrap the Mini, Myrtle, who had failed her MoT before we went, with the old terminal rust problem. It was a sad occasion, but having never driven her, I didn't miss her too much. She was replaced with a Nissan Micra, about which I was somewhat disappointed, being, as I am, a great believer in buying British. However, our requirements had outgrown a Mini and, bizarrely I found it practically impossible to get into the driving seat of a Metro whilst still allowing the person behind me some room for their lower limbs. In addition, there were very few Metros of the appropriate age and cost available at the time. Still, the Micra has done very well for us so far. We continued to use Michael week-in, week-out for the rest of the year, and he successfully transported all my stuff to and from Southampton for university three times. Inevitably, everything fitted exactly. Michael's loadspace seems to be perfectly suited to us in almost every way! In May 2002, my brother started to learn to drive. The clutch was beginning to suffer by this time, and the abuse of a novice only served to increase the rate of wear. He successfully passed his test the first time, in mid August, but not before we had taken Michael on yet another of our intrepid adventures. This time it was the Yorkshire Dales, with the usual quantity of long motorway drives to get there, and harsh country driving during the two weeks. We even made it up to Newcastle to meet family, and the engine nearly stalled through alternator overload in driving rain on the way back. Nonetheless, Michael was still in one piece when we arrived back in Reading.

We were, however, all painfully aware of the fact that many parts of the car were on their last legs, and the rust appearing round the glass fibre of my Dad's repair to the famous Maestro wheelarches was clearly symptomatic of severe rust problems down below. During September, Michael developed some funny noises, which we attributed to worn driveshafts. Had we anticipated being able to save the bodywork (and underlying structural components) cheaply, we probably would have replaced them, but we left them. At the very beginning of October, before I went back to Southampton to start my second year, it became apparent that it was going to take either a miracle, a lot of money, or a corrupt inspector for Michael to pass his MoT in early November. We started looking around at replacements, but ended up rejecting most options for one of three reasons: 1) We couldn't all fit in the car at once, due to our combinations of leg lengths. 2) The particular model had not been on the market for long enough, and we couldn't afford it. 3) The insurance was too high. This last point was, in some ways, the particularly significant one. At approximately £350, Michael provided us with just about the cheapest insurance for a family car with high risk drivers of anyone we knew. Additionally, no new cars could match Michael's visibility levels by a long way. We ended up with two options remaining: 1) Repair Michael 2) Find a newer Maestro. By this time, I had gone back to Southampton, and before long my Dad found a K Reg Maestro Clubman in Swindon. At £295, it was at least worth a try. When I went home for the weekend in early November, ostensibly for the church bonfire, I was able to see the "new" car, and to drive it. Despite my initial abhorrence of anything that should attempt to oust Michael from his well-earned position as the family vehicle, I quickly felt at home in the new car, and thankfully the encroaching on headroom of the sunroof was minimal. During the weekend, I was able to give Michael a bit of a goodbye party (from me at least), by finding out exactly what you can do with a Maestro in a wet field. The answer makes you dizzy! By now the radiator had sprung a leak, and at this stage a temporary repair was all that made sense, so we applied some Aluminium tape and ran the system unpressurised by taking the sealing washer off the cap on the header tank. This meant that an over-zealous driver could easily bring the water to boiling point, but as long as you stopped and allowed it to cool (and replaced the water you'd boiled off), it didn't do any damage.

Surprisingly enough, I am writing this because I received news a week or so ago that the deed had been done. Michael has gone to the car park in the sky, as they say. In fact, he's in the local scrapyard, but there we are. Many items, such as my cigarette lighter socket on a flying lead, and wheels with fresh tyres, were swapped between the two cars, and the professionally reupholstered roofliner, previously salvaged from a friend's Maestro, was also removed. It won't fit the new one, because of the sunroof, but it will doubtless be of use to someone, knowing the propensity of Maestro headliners to disintigrate in the way they do. I, for one, will miss Michael terribly, but he will always be remembered (not least because we salvaged the number plates!), especially as the car in which I learned to drive, both before and after my test. The new Maestro, Murray, has a lot to live up to, but I trust that, in the inimitable style of British engineering, he will succeed.

Peter Haskew (email)