by Clive Bates (published in the Isetta Gazette October 1978)
Rumblegutz, alias 9477 TE, first made my acquaintance in the autumn of 1976 when, after responding to an advertisement for an 'Isetta motorbike' in the Macclesfield Express, I found it lurking in a collapsed shed in the village of Rushton Spencer. The car itself was being used as the shed since the collapse of its fore-runner. Eventually a price was agreed, the magnificent show of Rosebay willow herb growing from the interior being included in the deal. The wheel bearings were seized up, so cans of penetrating oil were poured in before the tow home could commence. My school caretaker, Fred, had been roped in as pilot for the occasion.
By the time we left the remote house on the banks of the lake an early dusk had descended. The first part of the journey was over one and a half miles of farm track - so far so good - then across a flooded ex-railway track, where the inside of the Isetta also became flooded. The absence of brakes soon became apparent as we sailed down the main road at a steady pace. Steady, that is, until we came down the hill into Macclesfield! 10mph at the top, 30mph half way down, 45mph at the bottom with Fred praying for divine intervention. At last the Isetta was brought home, where it was greeted with reactions varying from incredulity and hostility to sympathy and comments like, "Do you drive it, or take it with water?" Only Fred and myself showed any real enthusiasm. Little did we know! Just why Fred was so enthusiastic after a drive through a dark, wet evening, travelling at 30-40mph just five feet behind an Austin 1800, I don't know. He just tried to keep the wandering steering between the two red lights in front, and hoped that brakes and lights weren't needed.
Restoration started the very next day. On closer examination we discovered that the wiring loom was non existent, the battery had fallen out, the silencer had gone, and the wheel bearings were either seized or very stiff. There was a large black lump of grease and slime which showed some promise of being an engine, and numerous other encouraging facets were eventually discovered. At last, after stripping down, a list was started of jobs to be done. The best idea would have been to have written it down on a toilet roll, the list was that long! Then came the first bit of good luck (other than finding the Isetta, that is) A letter from someone called Tony Marshall appeared in the 'Motor' following an earlier article on micro cars. This letter was quickly replied to, and a start was made.
Then Fred came into the school one day (remember Fred, intrepid tow pilot?). Apparently he had been recounting his experiences in a pub and some chap's eyes lit up. He had had such a device many years back, and felt sure that he still had a service manual in his loft. Result was that I gained a service manual - very wet as his roof leaked and the manual had been used to stop the water coming in - but still useful.
Eventually, the wiring loom was replaced, new points put in, the oil pump re-machined, and a new control box installed, after purchase from a company in Manchester. Initially there was a problem in that every time the indicators were used, the fuse blew! This was traced to a bare wire in the switch. Things progressed well until the day when an attempted engine start produced melted wires, clouds of smoke, a horrible 'thunk' and a near asphyxiated Isetta restorer. This meant more letters to and from Malcolm Thomas and a Mr Glover of Coventry, which eventually revealed a faulty control box and ignition switch. This repaired the next job was the brakes.
The brakes were interesting. Those in my Isetta were of the all metal variety - no linings! However, a day spent sifting through catalogues showed that the shoes are from a Standard Eight, and what is more, they are easily obtainable (in Macclesfield anyway - but then so are hula-hoops!).
New slave cylinders, master cylinder and brake pipes followed. Then a brake adjuster snapped! More grovelling around underneath. The silencer I obtained whilst on holiday in Scarborough. I spotted an Isetta lurking at a house, and so I spent an evening chatting, later returning to our Hotel with a silencer. On returning home, the next job was to rebuild the wiper motor, which was seized, and fit an external switch and windscreen washers. Then a wiper cam broke. At this time the hulk of a four wheeled Isetta was found at Wilmslow - sans engine, wheels, glass, etc. The body was severely crushed, but it had a wiper cam. First, the good news, it fitted! Then the bad - the arm nipple faced the wrong way. Solution was to cut the actuating arm, insert a length of 6" nail, and reverse the second half of the arm - Success! The car was painted a temporary green and presented for MOT. It failed after the indicator arm "came away in the tester's hand." Quick repairs were affected, and Rumblegutz was on the road!
The next milestone was a trip to Burford and the 1977 Micro-car rally, where the presence of five other Isetta's spurred us to greater restoration standards. Over the winter 9477 TE did yeoman service commuting around Macclesfield and Wilmslow. Then came the spring, and with it, disaster! Entering the Close where I live, there was a loud bang, and the Close suddenly resembled the scene of the Torry Canyon disaster! A barrel securing stud had sheared at crank case level. The piston had smashed inside the oscillating barrel, and the result was oily depression. With the use of a scissor jack, a liberal scattering of swear words, brute force and ignorance, the engine was removed and stripped down, and a rebuild commenced using new piston, rings, valves, etc from Sanders Brothers of Cycle Corner, Newcastle, a most useful source of spares since the demise of Glanfield Lawrence. With the engine rebuilt and new barrel studs tapped in, Runmblegutz once again took to the road, appearing at the Congleton Carnival, and then the North-west Motor Show, in which two other Isetta's also appeared. Last week it sailed through its MOT. That was Friday. On the following Monday, an ominous knocking on a trailing throttle heralded a broken drive coupling, so yesterday was spent grovelling in Rumblegutz's innards, struggling with seized bolts and decayed rubber. And that's where the story rests at the moment. 9477 TE stands immobile, and grinning, but I'm sure will soon be back on the road again. Anyone got a spare coupling?
The car has now been accepted into the family, particularly the boys, and threats of selling in dark moments of mechanical failure have met with vociferous objections. I have learnt a lot about Isetta's, and about myself - how to skin knuckles, how to slash arms on bodywork, which swear words work when spanners don't, how to use feet, hands, and mole grips to remove stubborn bolts, and especially the camaraderie of other Isetta owners, who have always rallied round to give me all the advice I've needed in times of ignorance and doubt (the usual situation). In particular, I should mention Vic Locke, Malcolm Thomas and Tony Marshall, without whom this epic would not have been possible.
Postscript
Rumblegutz soon took to the road again, complete with drive couplings, and was in fact present at the 1978 Burford rally. This moving story of one man's battle against the elements, and more to the point, a stubborn Isetta, must surely give immense encouragement to other members striving to rebuild what can only be described as derelict Isetta's, and we should, perhaps, either salute their courage and tenacity, or recommend a good psychiatrist