Responding to the Chairman's raging curiosity here's a story! Many years ago, approx 40 or thereabouts, I was a youthful apprentice electrician with O'Shea's in Cork I was like probably a lot of the people in this hobby spending far too much time on a very all consuming car hobby, building them, crashing them, repairing them, rallying them and very occasionaly on a lucky day having a lie down in them ......., we'll thats another story perhaps. There was no internet then so you learned by trial and error, rumours, guesswork and a lot of what "another lad" told you worked, an accurate self description then might be an experienced amateur! Cork at that point was in the throes of a long standing love affair with all things Ford, the plant in Cork City was still going and the blue Oval was uber cool along De Banks 
. O'Sheas were industrial contractors so you moved from job to job and plant to plant, one of the newly qualified sparks on this particular site I was on was intent on buying a car. Like a lot of apprentices I used to do a lot of "nixers" to supplement the often crappy wages, a lot on cars and often for the lads at work so some of them suggesed to this chap, Brendan was his name, that he should ask Niall to look at this car that he had in mind. I dont know if this fulsome recommendation was naive or a manifestation of the world renowned Cork humour at work but it got interesting for everyone quickly and was the subject of heated wind ups at the morning "tea" for weeks, cos as it turned out the bauld Brendan was a lunatic, I use the term unreservedly, Brendan was nuts, it wasn't obvious to me, naive as I was but the other sparks who had worked with him for 4 years, hmmmm? A lunatic in what way you may ask? Well Brendan was a wild wild boy from the north side of Cork city, a big raw brawling party animal, one of the early adopters of the new to that Parish grass variants as well as the more traditional "drink". This was to be Brendan's first car, clue #1 there if I was a bit sharper, what was a young boyo who had been earning for 4 years in the 80s doing with himself and his money to say he never had a car? We'll I'll tell you what he was doing, he was setting the town on fire, every night, mostly figuratively but you get the point, when he wasn't riding he was fighting, when he wasn't drunk he was stoned, no man or woman had ever accused Brendan of being boring 
. So you have the back drop now, read on for the message.
Brendan wanted to buy a hot Ford Escort, it was cool anywhere and in Cork it was the coolest, I had a hot Escort myself so you can see where the Bren lad thought this has to be a winner, I knew the car he wanted to buy as well, it was a relatively small community. I went to see the car with the love stuck buyer, having driven and examined it I advised Brendan to jog on and find something more suitable, "what do you mean more suitable" says he? Being a young and stupid f**kwit I didnt detect the warning klaxon at this point and went on to elaborate, as requested, WELL says I, with great certainty, thats a great car but its not going to be the easiest drive, it has a high lift cam, a quick shift, a quick rack, side draught webers and a lot of power, too much of a handful for an inexperienced driver! "Do you think I cant drive that f**king car" says Big Bad Bren, I went on to very kindly and as it turns out prophetically explain that for the inexperienced it would even be an aquired skill to start it, prone to stalling etc let alone drive it. With every word Brendan got bigger and badder and more determined, he was going to have that car and remove this slur on his manhood, he bought it. The lads at work were rubbing their hands with glee, now for a right bit of crack seemed to be the general sentiment.
No honeymoon at all, first day at work with the new car, I was changing my clothes down in the cabin, on arrives very very red faced Brendan, "WHERE'S Niall, that f**king c**t of a car wont start in the car park", the tone here is getting through the fog and I'm getting an inkling now that this association might not be great for me. Did I mention that this was a big angry young man with many issues that would have names today but then went under the general term "mad"? Anyway, up to the car, I could smell the fuel 10 yards away (there were yards then), it didnt take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was flooded, "let me try" I say, a glare from the bauld Bren but gave me the keys, I sat into the car and floored the go pedal and kept it there, 2 or 3 minutes of cranking and of course she fires up. If I was expecting the thanks of a grateful nation or maybe some mild applause for my ingenuity and experience I would have been sorely disappointed, this man is suspiciously glaring around the car mark to see who has witnessed this little apprentice b***ix trying to make him look stupid. The whole week is Groundhog Day but without the fun, when its not in the carpark of the job its at Brendan's place where the car has been left that morning after another non start, I travel almost daily between the two, he's permanently angry and somehow I have assumed the mantle of representing the car enthusiast world in general and this car in particular, a heavy sense of foreboding prevails. On the positive side he's getting slightly more adept at starting it as time passes and he's afraid of it so once he gets going he isn't gving it the beans, maybe it'll be OK?
Will it hell be OK! The weekend rolls around, Brendan has big plans, he's going to unveil his new toy to all the hot chicks at Chandras on South Main Street after an evening melting his own brain in Sir Henry's around the corner, that was his MO he wouldn't waste the whole evening chasing the talent when he could be getting pissed and high in Henry's and then cruise into Chandras at the end and pick one off so to speak. I'm guessing that strategy had a less than 100% success rate but with the new hot car, surely it would be a surefire winner? I wasn't there but witnesses told me it worked to some extent, step 1 (pissed and high) worked like a treat, step 2 worked up to a point in that Brendan managed to get the attention of a group of little birdies and enticed them back to the car, step 3 is where the wheels came off, quite dramatically. Brendan goes to start the car, over the noise of the several nubiles chatting and giggling away in the car, it was a lottery to start with but what with the self inflicted mental impairment, the distraction and background noise, no, Ari Vatanen himself would not get that hot Pinto to start, definitley Brendan wasnt going to. God bless him, he tried and he tried and tried but the giggles got louder and louder and the face got redder and redder and redder (again eye witness reports), it was heading for an embarassing flat battery leave it there scenario, the lovelies were already looking around the car park for their next lift, as they do, when through the red mist of Brendan's temper floated a tiny tiny voice, "floor the pedal and keep it there until it starts", in desperation he tries, usually he fails at this point because he just has no patience and reverts to vigorous pumping all too soon. But this time no, miraculously he waits, it fires, it roars into life, Brendan is on the cusp of learning a fullsome life lesson, getting laid and being the envy of his peers all in one go, he's there, how can he fail? The aftermath of the red mist is still there, he decides to teach this car a lesson (his own words) and keeps the pedal on the floor, those Pintos were a lovely torquey engine, reliable and very tunable but they had a weak bottom end and didnt really rev, max torgue at about 5500rpm but you'd die of cringe with the racket before you even got to 5.5K in reality, Brendan sat there for I'm told an impressively long time with his great big lug of a boot planted on the floor and ultimately the poor ole crank had its say and boom she went. Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory, nubiles gone to wherever was convenient for a lie down after the trauma with lads in Renault 10s or worse and for the Bren lad the long lonely walk home, alone.
I was in work on the Monday, Brendan was not, he was at that point embarked apparently on the bender to end all benders, it lasted several days during the course of which the scuttlebut at the "tea" was that word around the town was Brendan when he got his breath back was going to kill that f**king apprentice. Thats enough for now, maybe after a few pints at the Christmas party I'll remember the next bit. 
In fairness to the chap who sold the car, he bought it back and treated Brendan right even though it was no fault of his. I can't say I never looked at a car for anyone again but I was a lot more bloody selective for sure, its a potential minefield. I enjoyed that bit of reminiscing, brought back a lot of memories, great fun these cars!
Photo is not the actual, its a representative approximation but close enough, the one in question had Minilites if I recall.
Replies
Great Story . Enjoyed the read . Cheers
Haha deadly story😁 i have a vision of that brendan chap and he looks like jaws from james bond!
Niall: hold the boot down and count to 20
Brendan: and you can count....on me waiting for you in the car park 😄
To be continued. Is he still doing the rounds in cork do ya know?
Well paraphrasing Cousin Vinny, one day when I feel I could use a good ass whipping I'll search ole Bren out and see if he is still knocking around!
Lol😄
Great story, well told.
Jaysus you remembered everything else but forgot about the Wheels😜