If you thought getting up the hill was difficult, just you wait until you have to go down it again.
‘Jump man, jump! We need to shed some weight or we’ll never make it.’ He jumped. And at that moment, as time stood still and he found himself voluntarily throwing himself from a moving vehicle, he realised that he had made a terrible mistake. He hit the solid tarmac, legs giving way beneath him, and rolled into a ditch. Somehow he sprang to his feet, caught up with the car and pushed with all his remaining energy. But it was too late. The car shuddered to a halt and the embarrassingly long queue of traffic, who had all witnessed this feat of foolhardy heroism, slowly edged its way around the stricken Citroën. To this day there is some debate as to who should take the blame for this incident, and whether or not ‘Jump’ implies ‘Jump when ready.’
Had you been one of those lucky few who were witness to this comic spectacle, you may have asked yourself what on earth two men in their early twenties were doing jumping out of a nearly 100-year-old car, which couldn’t even pull itself up a standard Sussex hill. This, dear reader, is their story. A story of breakdowns, mishaps and bucketfuls of youthful optimism. Or, a list of everything that can go wrong when you enter your first competitive average-speed rally in a vintage car.
By this point, smoke was rising through the floorboards, thickening and billowing
Attempting any form of motorsport on a student budget means that there will be certain compromises. Ours started before we even set off from home, as I could just about afford the 1922 Citroën 5hp, but certainly couldn’t afford a tow car and trailer. This meant undertaking the perilous almost 100 mile journey from Oxfordshire to Goodwood under the car’s own steam. This is easier said than done, when you realise that the car has 11bhp (not a misprint) and a top speed of 37mph (again, not a misprint). Add to this a tendency to shed vital components while driving, including: the prop-shaft, cooling fan, gearstick, carburettor and a wheel nut, all before we reached the start of the rally.
So having retrieved and replaced most of these essential items, we boldly set forth into the rolling English countryside without a care in the world for our lack of front brakes, windscreen wiper, windows, indicators, 4th gear or any other modern niceties. Fortunately for us, the absence of a speedometer made the rally far simpler, as we had no way of tracking our average speed. So we decided that driving flat out would probably be our best bet in order to stand a chance of being anywhere near the required average. I can’t remember how well we did, but needless to say we didn’t win.
Second gear gave way to first, and still our speed would dwindle, until the car spluttered its way to a walking pace
We did, however, improve our hill-climbing technique: upon noticing a steep gradient in the distance, the navigator would stow his map and compass, open his [the only] door and step out onto the running board, clinging on to the windscreen frame for dear life. The hill would arrive and the driver would do his utmost to take it at full speed, admittedly this still wasn’t fast, and carry the car’s momentum as far as possible. Early gear changes helped keep the revs up to squeeze every last ounce of power from the wheezing and straining little motor, despite whines of protestation from the gearbox.
Third gear gave way to second, the hill would steepen and our speed would drop. Second gear gave way to first, and still our speed would dwindle, until once the car had spluttered its way to a walking pace, the navigator would be able to confidently step from the running board and push with all his might to crest the hill. If successful, the navigator would sprint to catch up with the car and jump on again to regain his breath, find the map again and direct us onwards to victory… probably.
Post rally, we still had the minor issue of driving back home before dark. Otherwise the car’s six-volt headlights would have to be relied upon, which is not a fate I would wish upon many. They can, however, be greatly improved by the addition of the navigator using his headtorch as a far superior headlight as well.
We knew that we were in for a ‘busy’ descent
We set off from Goodwood once more into the deceptively hilly Sussex countryside. Here laid one last challenge in our quest. Returning the way we came, we knew that there would be a particularly long descent to negotiate. This would go almost unnoticed in any vaguely modern car. Not so in the world of drum brakes, and even more so in the depths of prehistory when cars were built without front brakes.
Reaching the top of this innocent looking slope, we knew that we were in for a ‘busy’ descent. We pulled into a lay-by to ease the embarrassingly long queue of traffic that had formed behind us on our way up, threw caution to the wind, and plunged down the leafy country lane. As our speed slowly increased, I applied a touch of brakes and executed a quick double-declutch in order to select a lower gear. Onward we hurtled, faster and faster. Judicious use of the handbrake was required in order to keep the foot-operated brakes cool in case a hurried stop was required. My navigator’s knuckles were becoming increasingly white as he clung desperately to the car. No words passed between us. None were necessary. Another click of the handbrake, and a little assistance from the foot pedal. The end of the road was in sight. A T-junction. Another click of the handbrake. By this point, smoke was rising through the floorboards, thickening and billowing. The handbrake was on fire! Click. Mashing my right foot into the carpet as hard as I could, the car screeched to a stop, on top of the white lines of the junction. We had survived.
Despite (or perhaps because of) its shortcomings, this diminutive Citroën is utterly charming, if like me you can put up with its tendency to disintegrate during motion, and the brakes catching fire if you happen to be descending a hill that’s too long and steep.
An abridged version of this article was featured by Top Gear Magazine as one of the winners of their Journalism Competition in 2020