Looking out via a hotel window onto a car-park would usually be reason for me to change rooms. However, being able to keep an eye on TS2 and see her in the morning was reassuring. Rob’s TR6 left just after seven. We were on the road at eight. I was nervous about driving TS2 again with the whole brake debacle, but Beanie assured me that the brakes were fine, if a little spongy, and so what was planned to be a few turns of the car-park resulted in half a turn and yep, feels good and away we go.
Through the village and out, I drove my first hairpin, although after discovering what was to come, it was in actuality more of a headband.
Motorway and a stop for fuel (Why?! I know motorway fuel costs more than good fizz) but we wanted to get going. Met some more Club Triumph participants and had a good chat then on our way again.
After 2 hours, we heard a faint but insistent fluttering squeak, seeming to be coming from the steering column. When these cars rattle usually, I ignore it. Being closer to home, I don’t really think about it, unless it is something very crunchy, same with burning rubber and fuel type smells. For some reason, I notice this kind of smell more here, and it probably doesn’t even exist!
A rolldown test in neutral showed it wasn’t brakes. Beanie thought it may be a wheel bearing. WhatsApp sent to our support crew. Could it be the gearbox? Bloody hope not! I started to get a bit nervous. Beanie said as long as I didn’t drive too fast we would be fine (I had been caning it a bit on the motorway, by that I mean nearly 70mph! In TS2 it feels v v fast). Recording the noise, the consensus was that it was the speedometer cable. After checking a few things, yep, that seemed to be it.
Swap over saw Beanie drive through Germany into Austria and the best day so far in terms of being vaguely rested, very excited, with beautiful weather and jaw dropping scenery.
We also finally felt like part of the pack, seeing numerous Triumphs along the way, going in our direction or another (were WE going the right way??) And I thought, these cars really are Triumphs. Triumph over adversity, Triumphs of engineering and an encapsulation of British endeavour, fettling and tinkering, knowledge passed on and expertise of invention.
Cowbells clanged in mournful Doppler, and houses and ski chalets with 1970s décor, with tiny red alpine flowers (Beanie loves those, those flowers really make him smile) informed us that we were on track.
I was grateful that Beanie was driving when we first climbed into the mountains. We were held for a punishingly long time on hill-start mode with at least 15% gradient, as an articulated lorry and road resurfacing truck were two abreast not giving each other room to navigate the right hairpin. He did brilliantly, and so did TS2.
We eventually climbed for photos at 2,143 metres above sea level. Each turn more enchanting, exhilarating. Torn between giving essential directions for twists and turns, and taking photos and videos to capture the breathtaking beauty of Austria, I realised that the latter was impossible. It’s like trying to photograph the moon. Sure, you can get it in frame, but it’s somehow small and insignificant. And it’s not just what you’re looking at, it’s the smell of pine, the mist, the roar and arpeggio of the gears from 3rd to 2nd, the utter joy at seeing another Triumph on the road or in a lay-by. We have seen them all before of course, but I felt like a dog when its owner had returned from a quick trip to the shops! It’s you! Yay!!!
More hairpins, more altitude, how much higher? Surely the mountain has run out by now? Cresting the summit, Beanie spied a parking space and careered into it. Coming to a halt on the kerb, we found more Triumph owners and took pictures of each other’s cars. It’s funny: we don’t really do that with other things we admire “Oh you have a lovely kitchen, do you mind if I take a picture of it and share it on socials?” It’s just weird, but with our cars, it is natural. We admire the work and effort, the symmetry of a TR4 side, the friendliness of a Dolly Sprint and the genius of welding a GT6 Mk3 roof with a TR4 body (you know who you are!).
I digress…
Coming down the mountain was another set of giggles. After an initial slight panic attack when I looked over the side of the car, we got on with it.
I used to ride motorbikes in the past, and have a habit of leaning the right way to help with balance around bends. We naturally then discovered that leaning out of and into the car really helped get around those tight fast hairpins going downhill. Have you ever seen motorbikes at Goodwood that have a sidecar, well, more like a plate and someone swings off that? Well that is how it felt. It probably looked mental but it helped and was enormous fun, so there!
The landscape changed from ethereal majesty to tourist shop and industrial warehouses set among the glacial troughs. Mown grass (how the hell did they mow a mountain, and from top to bottom not side to side?!)
Gondolas moving past each other up the mountain tracks, and cars and motorbikes roaring past each other made me understand where the Sega Rally computer techs got their inspiration, it felt like being in my mate’s house playing on a console, but now in hyperreality.
Making our way past stacks of timber to the hotel, Beanie was exhausted but couldn’t stop smiling, even better when the receptionist told us where the swimming pool and sauna were.
After getting cold, we entered the sauna to strip the grime, the pressures of the day, and, well, everything else off.
