Cruise West Cumbria: Ultimatum
Allow me to set the scene. It’s February. It’s cold. A gang of mates have gathered on an industrial estate in Aspatria. Sat. Waiting. The anticipation is killing us; any minute, a convoy of about 200 cars will rumble through this sleepy little village. A convoy which we need to latch onto in order to get to the destination of the last meet of Cumbria’s Cruise Club. It’s tedious business. There’s only so many times you can open your bonnet and stare with vacant intent at your engine before boredom sets in. We wait. We clean what we can on our cars. We poke fun at each other. After spending a good twenty minutes laughing at one of the lads for turning up in a pick-up, having a Stetson and being a red-neck, the first of this formidable convoy sails past the car park, horn blaring, lights flashing like an irritated Audi driver. A little blue Cinquecento Abarth (you know who you are). Everyone in the group dives for their ignition keys and Aspatria’s tiny Industrial Estate echoes to the sound of four cylinder engines bolted to huge K&N air filters and noisy exhausts. We throw ourselves at the convoy and are carried on a wave of horsepower all the way to Derwent Howe in Workington, where we park up amongst our brothers and survey the landscape. It was busy. Really busy. It wasn’t the volume that staggered me however, it was the diversity. Sure, there was the obligatory wealth of mildly modified Fiestas and Civics with fart-cans. However, amidst the thick jungle of juvenile hatchbacks, there were some serious motors. There were a fair few cars I wanted. If I had my way, I’d have needed a fleet of car transporters to cart my wishlist home. Here’s my pick of the night.
An old Clubby estate belonging to a member of the Cumbria Mini Cruisers. She’s had a troubled life this one. Unfortunately her old engine let go, which was a real shame because she was fitted with a 1293cc A-Series which had been tickled and fettled. She was more than adequate in terms of performance. Despite her setback, she made it to the meet powered by a 1000cc replacement and looked bloody good in the process. I’m a big fan of the dish on the alloys and the “in-yer-face” orange paint-job. More of the same please.
Sticking with the Minis, Roxy found a couple of friends and I couldn’t help but take photos. The red one was also travelling to the meet powered by a stand-in engine. It came with a 1275cc which unfortunately gave up the ghost as well, so she made her way there powered by the faithful 1000cc A-Series too. Not content with working perfectly, Roxy decided she was tired of having a properly tensioned fan belt, so in the last 200 yards before the meet, she loosened it. It screamed right up until everyone left, then magically fixed itself. Typical.
I’ve a huge soft spot for these. I’d love a 240SX. Ever since Mighty Car Mods turned one into a drift missile, I’ve wanted one so I could do the same thing. One day, when this website rakes in thousands, I’ll cave and buy one.
There were a few of these kicking around the meet. No idea what they had hiding under the bodywork, but they sounded decent enough when they left. They had some poke, that’s for sure.
Casual Audi Quattro. Sounded like it could tear a hole in time, this one. As you can probably see, it’s been caged up and it definitely isn’t standard. That intercooler was made for mincing children. If this found itself behind a Prius, the Prius would wet itself and dive into the grass verge for cover. Savage looking thing.
The Supras. These get more numerous every time I attend these meets, which is definitely not something to complain about. I love the way a 2JZ sounds; they’re the soundtrack of Japan. There were a couple more floating about and you could hear them from the next town over. Pretty certain I heard the green one coming from Carlisle when we were sat in Aspatria.
A Golf belonging to a mate of mine. It was ridiculously low. Christ it was bloody low. And it had a surprising turn of speed too; it was fitted with a 1.9 litre turbo-diesel engine which had been massaged a bit to produce an amount of horsepower. Enough horsepower to make things interesting, let’s just leave it at that.
This was mad. A pristine Bedford van with a brown leather interior. Tastefully lowered with a nice set of alloys and a tidy exhaust poking out the rear bumper. Oh yeah, and it had a turbo-charged Vauxhall red-top engine lurking under the bonnet, so it went like the proverbial off a well-greased shovel.
Pictured above is the very same pick-up we poked fun at. The poor bloke in the driver’s seat got a bit of a hard time for fetching this to the meet. Truth be told though, we were wrong to give him grief about it. An old Ford Sapphire P100 turbo-diesel. What a beast. First off, it was absolutely immaculate for a pick-up; the bed was hardly marked, the engine was strong, the gearbox was good. And the bloke who owns it has bolted a couple of Alfa Romeo 156 seats into the cockpit, so it was fairly comfy too. I’m a massive fan of this hillbilly special. My night was made by this little pick-up. At one point, our entire group of mates piled into the bed and we went for a few laps around the meet. It was like getting a guided tour. Only the driver was trying to get the back end to let go in the corners. And the passengers were being thrashed about like rag-dolls in the jaws of an angry bull-terrier. Other than Roxy, this was the best thing I saw all night. It was funny. Tickled me at least. Even though we did look like red-necks.
The night ended with a healthy spot of burnouts, powerslides and flame-throwing from the more powerful motors which graced the meet with their presence. R32 Skylines, a wealth of Subarus, the occasional hopped-up BMW and a surprise appearance from a little blue Mini. It was all there. And we saw that it was good.
And you thought Cumbria was boring. Think again.