29 July 2006

Dear Peanuts

After reading your notice about the fiftieth anniversary of GSM next year, I decided to share some of my "endearing" experiences with a GSM Flamingo with you. Hope you can find some use for it.

Should there be any assistance needed with preparations for next year's festivities, I would be delighted to assist wherever I can.

I have e-mailed photos of the fibre glass model we made in 1965. I will bring along two surviving models when I come to Cape Town in September.

                        
Click on above picture to view enlargement

I am getting in touch with a professional model builder who builds models for export to the United States.

Kind regards

Hendrik Strydom
7 Queen Street
TARKASTAD
5370
Cell: 072 3000 290
Home: 045 8460 262
Work: 045 8460 173
Fax: 045 8460 555

---

23 June 2006

The Editor
CAR Magazine
HOWARD PLACE

Dear Sir

After reading the notice about the fiftieth anniversary of GSM next year, I decided to share some of my "endearing" experiences with a GSM Flamingo with you. Hope it can find a place in your anecdotal series on strange experiences with vehicles.

Kind regards

Hendrik Strydom
7 Queen Street
TARKASTAD
5370
Tel. 072 3000 290
045 8460 262 (h)
045 8460 173 (w)
045 8460 555 (Fax)

---

FIRST EXPERIENCES WITH A FROLICSOME FLAMINGO

Growing up in the Northern suburbs of Cape Town in the late 50's to early 60's and regularly attending motor races at Eerste Rivier, Gunners Circle, Fisantekraal and Killarney, who would not fall in love with South Africa's own beautiful sports cars from the GSM stable ?

I always dreamt of the day that I would own a Flamingo. The first GSM Flam- ingo (64027) I bought was ivory coloured and fitted with an up-rated Cortina GT engine with double Weber sidedraughts. What a car, and could it go ! At the filling station the pump attendant tapped the car with his fingers, and enquired: "Baas, is dit nou die nuwe plestiek karre die ?"

My cousin Hettie and I once left Bloemfontein in the rain to introduce her and the Flamingo to my old university friend and fellow petrol head Frans van der Merwe at Calvinia. We followed the most direct route via Britstown, Vosburg and Carnarvon. As a city chap, I had very little experience of driving on gravel roads, even less of driving on wet and muddy gravel. So, quite "wisely" I decided not to drive in the tracks, but to stick to the undisturbed side of the road.

Needless to say, within 10 miles after leaving Britstown, disaster struck.  The Flamingo sunk away in the soft mud, right up to its chassis. No effort on our side could free it. We started walking to the nearest farm, and on the way met up with a donkey cart. The driver offered us a lift, but said that most people were in town for a dance. So chances of finding any assistance were poor.

Not being able to find anybody to assist, the donkey cart took us all the way back to the stuck Flam. The rain had stopped, but extreme cold set in.  In only shorts and sandals we were shivering like mad. We found comforting warmth, Hettie between the ladies under their blanket in the back, and I between the men on the bench with a jacket of theirs over my shoulders.

On arrival at the Flamingo it was already dark and we were quite despondent.  After an hour or so, we were delighted to see the headlights of an approaching vehicle. When the F100 stopped next to us, I gave a sigh of relief. The driver, not having a tow rope, unceremoniously cut a length of wire from the fence and prepared to tow us. As the Flam would not start, he said that he would tow us right back to Britstown.

The mud thrown up by the F100 soon covered the Flamingo's windscreen. The wipers simply could not cope and I poked out my head, but soon my glasses were also covered in mud. At Britstown we were towed right onto the fore-court of the service station where we hosed down the car. Soon the whole place was a muddy mess.

Ready to continue our journey, the Flamingo still wouldn't start. After a long search, I noticed sparks at the turret of the coil when the starter was turned. A hairline crack was causing a short circuit. Once dried and "sealed" with Vaseline, off we went. This time sticking to the tar and heading for Cape Town. Except for losing one of the wipers, we arrived safely at Cape Town late that night, Frans and Calvinia forgotten for the time being.

Back home in the Karoo I called on a young lady who managed their sheep farm after her dad's death. Early each morning I would run into town, do my job and then return late afternoon to help her. During this time a new road was being constructed to the farm. Next morning I used the old road to town. On my return that afternoon, due to a lack of warning signs, I was unaware that the new road had been opened and a fence erected across the old road.

When Oom Jossie heard me fly past his house on the old road, he rushed out to warn me, but he was too late. He followed me at high speed, but the Chev bakkie was no match for the Flamingo, even on the farm road. When he reached the fence, he noticed that I had already passed.

As I was driving directly into the sun and dust, I could not clearly see the newly erected fence. Fortunately only the barbed wire at the top and two lower strands of wire had been fitted. Realising that I would not be able to stop in time, I just geared down to third and put pedal to the metal (fibre-glass, I mean).

Upon Oom Jossie's enquiry, the man erecting the fence said: "Baas, daardie plat karretjie het net gesê "brm" en onder die draad deur gery." The only damage sustained: two scratches across the roof caused by the barbed wire.

Driving a Flamingo with limited ground clearance extensively on rural gravel roads was quite a challenge. Often the "middelmannetjie" would be too high, or large stones in the road had to be avoided. That is where I learnt the trick of lifting my left or right bum as the occassion required, to ensure that the Flamingo would pass without sustaining damage. It's quite easy, the higher the obstacle, the higher you lift your bum !

Once, during winter, my future wife and I visited her parents at Richmond, Cape. We returned on a very cold afternoon. The window winder on my side suddenly jammed and could not be persuaded, not even by appropriate phrases, to close the window. My head was exposed to the cold wind. She was so concerned that she gave me her best white wide brimmed church hat as protection.  This caused quite a number of smiles and stares from passing motorists.

We once visited friends on a farm in the Colesberg district. Once again it was a wet weekend. On returning home late that night, it was quite dark as it was new moon. We had to pass through a large, fairly deep puddle of water.  I geared down and carefully approached the puddle. Immediately after leaving the puddle the engine died and the lights suddenly went out. On trying to restart the car, the ignition lights would not even light up. Even the extension emergency light was of no use. What now ?

After fidgeting in the dark with various engine parts and wires, I finally removed the spare wheel from its cradle in front of the radiator to reach the battery which was fitted in a box below the spare. Following the battery cables in the dark, I made the most shocking and amazing discovery. There was no battery ! (A much better excuse than "running out of petrol",  wouldn't you agree ?)

Only the battery terminals were dangling on the cables. Even the floor of the battery box was gone ! A search of the water puddle and a stretch of
road did not have any positive results. To this day no trace of the lost battery had been found. Perhaps a bad trick of a high "middelmannetjie" ?

We simply had to walk to the next farm to summon assistance. At about mid-midnight we reached the farmstead from where phoned our friendly garageman, Ben Sloane, who brought out a new battery and helped us to get home !

At the time preparations for the construction of the Vanderkloof Dam were in full swing. I invited a young Swiss surveyor, Peter Maag, who had not seen much of the country, to join me on a visit to my parents in Cape Town.  We decided to make it a round trip to the Cape, then on to Port Elizabeth and via Colesberg back to Vanderkloof, a total distance of some 1360 miles.

Peter said his parents would never believe that more than 1000 miles could be covered in a single weekend, so he sent a series of postcards first from home and then from each main centre we visited. We left on Friday at noon and arrived at Cape Town that night. Next morning, before leaving for Port Elizabeth, he mailed a postcard from the upper cable car station on Table Mountain. Then it was on to "die Baai". On Sunday morning we left for Colesberg but were delayed because of a long gravel bypass due to construction at Olifantskop. From Colesberg we followed the poor gravel road to Vanderkloof.

Without any mishap, we arrived back home on Sunday evening. Along the way Peter took several photographs of the Flam's speedometer indicating 100 plus miles per hour !

During those years Scalectrix model racing was all the rage. My brother Piet started the Tygerberg Model Motor Racing Club with an extensive track in a double garage in Goodwood. Even 24 hour races, reduced to scale, were held.  We were so impressed with the racing successes of the GSM Dart and Flamingo sports cars, that we built small fibreglass Dart and Flamingo bodies fitted with specially tuned Pittman motors. Needless to say, these small Darts and Flamingo's were the club champions !

When I got married in 1968 I traded in the Flamingo on a family sedan, a 3 litre Zephyr V6. What a complete contrast ! A young employee of Department of Water Affairs at Uitkeer (Somerset East) bought the Flamingo, but wrote it off after some time. That was the sad end of 64027.

After many "endearing" experiences like these, who would ever forget a GSM Flamingo ! That is why I am driving my third Flam today.

Congratulations, GSM, on your fiftieth birthday ! Good luck for the next 50 !

---

BACK