John Simister: The Singer that lived

At least, most of it did. The eagle-eyed expert might notice the absence of one piece of cosmetic embellishment, the bonnet. As this forms about half of the bodywork, excluding the four wings, it is quite a significant element of the Singer's visual integrity. No matter; it runs fine without it.

The missing bonnet is the reason for the Singer's coming-out, actually. I realised that, apart from the bonnet, it's very close to being finished. Or if not fully, completely, finally finished, at least usable to the point that I could actually drive it while the final details are gradually attended to.

So today's emergence of the Singer, blinking in bewilderment, into the cold light of day among the residual snow and ice, was so I could drive it to the side street across the road from my house and thence on to the trailer belonging to Adam Redding, whose restoration company does wonderful things to timeworn E-types, Aston Martins, Dinos, Lancias, early Jensens and – his past specialism – Bristols. And more. The dark green Arnolt-Bristol you may have seen at the Hampton Court Concours, and which is currently for sale at Abbeyfield Sports and Classics, is one of his. I've driven it and it's utterly delightful.

I got to know Adam through a friend who, when he's not being a bank manager, helps Adam out with meticulous fitting and fettling. This friend, who we'll call Simon because that's his name, also has a Singer Le Mans which he restored, beautifully, back in the 1980s around the time I was failing to get  to grips with my first one. So, one way and another, my Singer has found itself booked into Adam's workshop among the exotica to have a brand new bonnet trimmed to size, painted and fitted. Upon which the Singer will be visually whole again.

So, what was wrong with the bonnet it came with? I might have mentioned before that the Singer's ash-framed body was somewhat out of true on purchase. The last-but-one owner, who did some of the restoration work, had a bonnet made to fit, approximately, but its most serious visual flaw was that the line of louvres along the bonnet sides was wrong. They should be large, spaced apart and rearward-sloping, not small, bunched-together and vertical. And, once I had remedied the body frame's wonkiness, that bonnet wouldn't have fitted anyway.

Having a complete new one made from scratch would have been worryingly expensive, but fortunately the temple of succour for all owners of pre-war Singers, Dave Hardwick Singer Spares, has had a batch of new ones made at palatable cost. So one of those is what is now awaiting Adam's ministrations with the metal nibbler to adjust it for a perfect fit, no two old Singers being dimensionally identical. 'And I can always TIG-weld a piece back on if I get it wrong,' he added, encouragingly. Then it will get painted in British Standard New Brunswick Green, the colour chosen by the last-but-one restorer as a fair match to Singer's original Napier Green.

To get this far has called for a flurry of other Singer activity. I wrote in a June column that I'd got the engine reassembled and running, rather noisily because there was no exhaust system. It now has the right pipework, the downpipe and manifold connection conjoined by one of Adam's metal magicians, and it has a radiator whose shell now sports the correct chromium look rather than being painted in body-matching green.

That doesn't mean it has been re-chromed; the shell needed too much repair work for that, and a new shell is prohibitively expensive. So, instead, the original shell has had its past repairs made better, the surface has been expertly filled and flatted, and a chrome wrap has been applied by WrapStyle of Uxbridge. It's a roaring success, so far at least.

What else? I've wired the headlights through a couple of relays, not very 1930s but it protects the contacts in the fragile and unobtainable light switch. The switch sits at the bottom of the steering column, actuated by a lever in the centre of the steering wheel and joined to the switch by a thin shaft through the centre of the column. It's a wonderfully complicated solution to a simple problem.

Then there are the new engine mounts, specially made in purple-grade polyurethane but – thankfully – hidden behind metal covers, and the overhauled brakes whose wheel cylinders had all corroded and seized, mostly through lack of use. Cleaning off the corrosion revealed pleasingly sound cylinders and usable pistons, and with new hydraulic seals they're working fine.

Once at Adam's workshop I was able to drive the Singer along the internal roadway through the farm on which his unit is located. I got up to third gear (no room for fourth), and it was a brilliant feeling to have the Singer living and breathing again, its exhaust blaring enthusiastically. There's a huge flat spot in the carburation, probably caused by incorrect jets and chokes in the pair of 30FAI Solexes, but that's easily remedied. Apart from that the engine feels encouragingly fit.

The next big car gathering I plan to attend is the Brooklands New Year's Day meeting. It would be great to drive there in the Singer, especially as pre-war cars can park right in front of the Clubhouse, but that might be stretching optimism too far. However, the Singer Owners' Club's national event next June – significant, because it's the 50^th such event organised by the club – is a must. Barring disasters, ANC 958 will be there.