With that, I declared my work “done” - yeah, right

, and sent it off to my local LBC shop for a thorough once-over and alignment. (I’m lucky to have one within 20 minutes walk of my house - yay!!)
He aligned the front end, corrected a slight mismatch in the steering wheel to shaft install, indexed the tires and balanced the wheels, tightened some fasteners on the transmission, and declared it “good to go”.
So what better thing to do than drive it to the vintage Grand Prix in Pittsburgh? At my daughter’s prodding, we took the Triumph over an air conditioned and quiet alternative (she did not know what she was signing up for…

) and had one heck of a weekend!
The car drove beautifully, albeit hot and noisy in the 80+ degree weather, except four minor faults:
1. The car has a shimmy between 62 to 67 mph. This is annoying in the variable speed traffic common on the east coast, but not an issue west of the Hudson River. This could be a function of out of round steel wheels, my mechanic could have made an error in the balance (we all have our days), or there is something deeper in the suspension. I have made an appointment with my friendly mechanic to review.
2. The speedo stopped working just before Pittsburgh, turned out to be the right angle drive, since fixed.
3. I consumed about a gallon of oil over the 1200 mile trip. The bottom was covered in oil… it ain’t rusting anytime soon! However: shame on me. When I changed the oil after our trip, I found the canister filter had two o-rings… one I put in, and a second rather crumbly one from many eons ago… I am glad I dug a little deeper this time, but also embarrassed I did not see it when I had the housing on the bench a year ago! (My real concern is a rear seal leak… hopefully discovering my error has a silver lining…??)
And 4, tragically: Thirty miles from home the coil quit. A spare coil was both on my list of spares to pack - and sitting comfortably in my basement. The upside, I have Hagerty towing insurance, so a short wait and ride in a tow truck later, I attached said coil and drove into my garage. (I had a two or three “misses” a few hours before the coil quit altogether, so the ultimate failure was not a surprise.)
A great trip, after which my daughter proclaimed, “That was the best weekend of the summer! Let’s never do that again!” She meant both; I love her honesty!