Thought this looked interesting:

www.totalmotorsport.com/news/story.asp?ID=2439&Typ...e

Any comments?

PS: Don\'t bother going to the zeroshift website as there is only a holding / contact us type page there.
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Stephen Khoo
www.khoosys.net Read more

I just turned 40 and I want to get hold of a, maybe, early to mid 90's 911. For under £20k. I know zip about Porsches. I am going to join the owners' club but am I looking at the quickest way to bankruptcy here, or is there actually a way to enjoy owning this sort of motor?
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I`ve recently bought a mk1 vectra without a stereo so I bought a cdr500, when it came to installing it i found the wires had been cut so i wired it back up and plugged it in, everything works fine except when I turn it on the date dissapears from the display and stays blank and my remote locking has stopped working too. I need help!! Read more

I've bought my last 3 cars at Manheims auctions in Colchester, the last one a week ago, and each time I've got a bargain, usually saving about £1000 on the retail price. I love the buzz of the auction ( I'm also a long-term attendee of antique auction) and have always enjoyed buying and selling. I was amazed last week at the low prices some cars, especially Corsas and Astras. were fetching . I reckon if I bought 10 cars a year I'd make about 10K turnover. Thats a day per car in terms of auction attendence and preping the car for sale. There may be days when I can't buy a suitable car so lets add on another 5 days for extra auction attendence. Lets also say I may buy the odd one that needs fixing in some way, so I add £1k for expenses and another 1K for adverts and unforeseen costs. This means for 15 days work and possible outlay of 2K I make about £8000.
This seems quite a tidy profit doing something I enjoy doing- a sort of working hobby. There has to be a catch, would someone like to point it out for me? Read more

What is it with you Poms, as my Australian cousin living in London says? Every August Bank Holiday since time immemorial countless Brits and their families sit sweltering (or in the rain) in endless queues of traffic try to get to somewhere which will be full of people just like them when they get there. They will be miserable, squalling kids, over-priced "services", rickety caravans wobbling along holding them up if they ever do get moving. Tabloid headlines will shriek "HOLIDAY TRAFFIC HELL TRAPS MILLIONS!" or some variation on the few words it is possible to get into 3" headlines on the Daily Wail, all of which must have been repeated in some form or another "n" times since the fiery summer of 1949 when we were already picking blackberries on my birthday in mid-August. Yet every year they all do it, they all know they're going to be miserable and yet, gritting those British teeth, they do it all over again, like voting New Labour back in, and totter back to work on Tuesday more dead than alive so they can exchange "how was it for you on the A272" stories on Tuesday.

It was ever thus, like some sort of grim tribal ritual, some lemming-like compulsion to conform and is nothing new. The French are even worse, except they do it for a month.

By contrast Father would absolutely refuse to go anywhere by car on a Bank Holiday. "I spend most of my week in the damn City being bally miserable because I have to", he would pronounce, "But I'm damned if I'm going to miserable for the fun of it". And so it was, if the weather was fine, we kids would be led on long country walks with picnic baskets, or else played games and squabbled while Mother read the paper and Dad dozed off at the local cricket match. If the heavens opened for the weekend, as they often did, it was games of charades or Monopoly indoors, Dad's corny jokes and conjuring tricks we'd all seen before but which we all laughed at anyway, Mother scolding us if we showed up without hands duly washed ready for trifle and blancmange for tea.

How much more sensible, I always thought.


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