If Phil and I were superheroes, many people wouldn’t take us very seriously. Well, I think my alter ego, Glassman could get a cameo in Batman Regurgitates II and similarly, Transmitter Man would probably get to play the baddie in The IT Crowd or something. Phil may not be a hero to some, but for many petrolheads, his cars are definitely super.

It was a Thursday afternoon when I met Phil back in 2006;  he called and asked for a quote to remove and refit the heated rear windscreen on his De Tomaso Longchamp (I have to admit that he may as well have said it was a Fatsomutsa Zapparelli for all I knew at the time, but hey – you live and learn). He wanted a new rubber fitted to the heated rear window so I went along, expecting to see some DIY kit car or something. “Oh! A De Tomaso!” I said (I didn’t say it to pretend, but the car looked familiar – perhaps it was that embellished look which featured so strongly in Carrozzeria Ghia -designed cars) but this comfortable coupe didn’t have much chrome. It had a mass of muscle,  a plenitude of panache (and a leaking rear window) all rolled into one shell and plonked onto four voluminous tyres.

We got chatting and Phil suggested that I come along to the Enfield Pageant to see some classic and vintage cars, but I think he was trying hard not look worried about what someone had said about removing windows that are no longer available. Another bit of stupid advice he was given was to ‘cut the rubber’ to remove the glass. After a brief explanation on why rubbers shouldn’t be cut and Fairy Liquid is not such a great idea when putting the window back in, Phil began to relax. “Have you been on Pistonheads?” he asked, furtively “if you haven’t, I think you’ll like it”. He went on to describe the dynamic devotees of this cyber-society and how there isn’t a windscreen specialist imparting his knowledge. “People are always asking stuff about windscreens and automotive glass” he added.  Frankly speaking, Phil was winning the talking competition at this stage. To be brutally honest, he’d lapped me several times by now – but in a good way – and it’s not so bad if you’re defeated by the eventual winner and Phil wins every time we speak. He’s one of those guys that knows stuff; he’s the kind of bloke that remembers all that stuff,  with dates.  I’m sure he won’t mind me saying this (must behave now ’cause I’ll be inviting him later) but he remembers stuff with dates and references,  names and all the kind of stuff that lesser people just wouldn’t retain. Inspiring stuff. The man is one of those ‘Let Me Google That For You’  information resources on his chosen subjects. I duly went along to have a nosey at this online community for petrolheads.

Within five minutes of seeing a thread about the daughter of a formerly fat, erstwhile Chancellor of the Exchequer ( he’s shed about two Cheryl Coles of weight since his days as a Tory politician) Glassman came into existence (although thinking back,  it was a misleading thread title and I was disappointed that after 47 pages of posts, nobody had put up the recipe for Nigella’s Tasty Buns).

Transmitter Man has since kept in touch and we’ve bumped into each other at a couple of hoons. The De Tomasso stayed at home on both occasions, but I was introduced to another roaring beast, the TVR 420 SEAC. I was more than happy to oblige when Phil called a few weeks later and asked if he could leave the ‘Wedge’ with me while he shot off on business – if only he’d told me that he  wouldn’t have minded if I took her for a spin. The thought did cross my mind though, but the noise that thing makes, I feared that he may hear the roar all the way over in Amsterdam. “The screen is knackered,” he said “it has a few little chips on it but the glass surface is so pitted, the slightest bit of sun and I can’t see out!”

So a new windscreen it would be. The full replacement in pictures can be seen here soon.