Chassis Ascending: A Triumph in Vertical Gardening

Let it never be said that the British countryside is dull. There, nestled between the gravel track and the buttercups, stands what may either be a masterstroke of engineering pragmatism… or the avant-garde installation of a man who's had enough of sheep-proof fencing and wants to usher in the age of Automotive Bauhaus.

Yes – that is, in fact, a Triumph GT6 chassis, erected like some post-industrial scarecrow, propped up by timber stakes in a manner that says, "No, officer, I’m not starting a commune – I'm just painting the underbelly." But what an underbelly! Suspended in a dignified headstand, it's less restoration and more resurrection – as if the whole car's waiting for the bodywork to descend from the heavens like some sheet metal messiah.

In truth, this arrangement solves several problems at once. First, it avoids the misery of grovelling underneath with a face full of gravel and Hammerite fumes. Second, it’s oddly beautiful – equal parts Mad Max and Capability Brown. And third, it’s already got the neighbours wondering if I've joined a breakaway sect of the Green Party that worships chassis integrity.

But here's the thing: now that the frame’s wearing its Sunday best in black Hammerite (smooth, naturally – we're not savages), you’re left with a real aesthetic conundrum. California Sage is on the way for the body, but those upper rails? They’re crying out for contrast, given they'll be visible in the engine bay. A whisper of rebellious flair. Something to say, “Yes, this is a Triumph, but it’s my Triumph – and I’m not afraid of colour theory.”

So why not go bold? Opalescent copper? British Leyland mustard, just to rile purists? Even a rich burgundy or bronze would make those Sage panels pop like a 1970s Haynes manual photo. It’s not just a frame – it’s a canvas. And let’s be honest, if you're already installing your chassis like a kinetic sculpture in a meadow, you're not the sort to shrink from a bit of chromatic showmanship.

Keeping with the herbal theme, I plumped for Hammerite Soft Thyme, but only in way of the engine bay.

  

In conclusion, what I erected in order to achieve a top and bottom paint job may be the start of a new vernacular in garden design. The National Trust should be taking notes. Because with a few more old chassis dotted about, tastefully arranged and brightly coloured, I might just have launched a whole new movement: Restoration Pastoralism. Chelsea Flower Show 2026? I'll get my entry form in early.