I have just read the letter written by Mr. B. Campbell Kemp in which he refers to his 1954 Consul.
This was of great interest to me as I am, among other things, responsible for the maintenance of a fleet used for self-drive hire.
These cars cover approximately 20,000 miles per year and yet, in the few years we have used them, no major troubles have been encountered.
When one considers the varying types of drivers who use these cars isn’t it surprising that I have not encountered all Mr. Kernp’s troubles and a few more besides ?
Brake judder at low speeds is noticeable on a few cars, but only a few. Regarding the paint, I have nothing against this at all; it is quite within keeping with the type and price of the vehicle and anyway I have not experienced “peeling” inside or out.
I am not a modern car enthusiast, my own car being an Alvis 12/50, but the Ford range is my choice among mass-produced cars. Maintenance of these vehicles is simplicity itself and I am quite safe in stating that the majority of work can be carried out by the owner-driver, even to relining a clutch or reconditioning a front suspension, it is all done in a matter of hours. How many other vehicles of the same class are as easy ? NONE!
Regarding comments on roadholding, etc., all I have to say is, that like any car, they all entail using a little common sense.
Many thanks for a wonderful journal.
I am, Yours, etc.,
London, S.E.9. E.C. Leal.
In relevance to the Ford controversy raging at the moment, may I quote from my Mum’s autograph album, at March 29th, 1925, when people weren’t in the habit of carrying 1cwt. weights in their hoots ?
THE FORD CAR
The Ford is my automobile, I shall not want—another.
It maketh me to lie down in wet places ;
It soileth my soul,
It leadeth me into deep waters ;
It leadeth me into the paths of ridicule for its name’s sake ;
It prepareth a breakdown for me in the presence of mine enemies.
Yea, though I run through the valleys,
I am towed up the hills.
I fear much evil while it is with me,
Its rod and its engine discomfort me.
It anointeth my face with oil.
Its tank runneth over.
Surely to goodness the darned thing won’t follow me all the days of my life,
or I shall dwell in the house of the insane for ever.
I am, Yours, etc.,
Whetstone, N. Neil Dunlop (13 1/2 years of age).
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