The Soft Top Incident

Your long read…

“The Soft Top Incident”
By Geoff Buys Cars

I never wanted an Audi A4 convertible, but anyone who follows the channel will know that I don’t mind a cheap replica, wrist watch or otherwise. After the sale of my BMW E39 Alpina B10 replica fell through, an interesting message appeared in my inbox.

‘Are you interested in a deal with my Audi S4 replica?’

My first instinct was to say no – but curiousity got the better of me. Was this going to be a full, wide body, Sepang Blue, properly built replica, or was it just a base spec 1.8 with a few badges? I had to find out.

It wasn’t long before the photos landed in my WhatsApp, and instantly destroyed my dreams of a well executed bright blue V8 slice of vorsprung durch technik.

The first photo was laughable, the car had mismatched wheels, wasn’t clean, wasn’t framed correctly and my attention was completely distracted by the bright blue fence which was the item most prominently in focus.

I laughed out loud, forwarded the photo with a snarky comment about poorly executed replicas to my car-guy whatsapp group and politely declined the car. After digitally guffawing with the guys and unanimously deciding it was a car to swerve, how did it end up on my drive by the end of the night?!

Well, there’s a story…

Having recently built a Volvo V70 California (an estate car with no roof) I was dismayed that the British weather was doing what British weather does, and pissing it down.

Although I’d built the convertible Volvo in Malvern, I’d ordered the C shape seal clips to cover the raw metal to arrive at my work – in Bromsgrove. The car gods had conspired against me which resulted in a less than ideal situation…

The clips to seal the roof and make it more watertight were 25 miles of motorway and 40 minutes of torrential rain away and the only car I had to use was my yet to be christened V70 California.

Many people had asked ‘is the roof watertight’ and ‘will it blow off at speed?’, and as I accelerated down the slip road onto the M5 I thought ‘two birds, one wet stone’.

To my astonishment, despite the downpour and helped by an average speed limit restriction, I was amazed to discover that the roof was pretty much perfect. Perhaps that gave me a false sense of security about folding fabric soft tops that would lead to the terrible events soon to unfold, but we may never know. Two phone calls with the Replica man later and he was on the way from Birmingham to view my fake Alpina – heading south down the same wet motorway on which I’d just driven North, in his Audi.

When we finally had the fake V70 Convertible, the imitation Alpina and the replica RS4 on the same street, Mick and I got to know each other.

A big builder from Birmingham with a proper Brummie accent, Mick and I had a lot in common. We both had brummie accents and owned too many cars, and we were big, manly, proper men. Well, Mick is, I’m just Geoff sized. Anyway, I liked Big Mick and he liked the Alpina, and now that the Audi was on a set of matching wheels, the 1.8 litre turbo soft top was growing on me.

After jump starting the Alpina by hooking it up to the Volvo, Mick and I took the Bavarian for a walk.

Turns out Mick has quite the collection of cars, and there’s a chance to do some business and trading together – we were starting to become Car Fwends.

Comfortably chatting away in the Alpina, we came up with a deal that put some cash in my pocket and got Micks bum permanently in the BMW. Happy days.

Back at the house we transferred Mick’s possessions to the Alpina, and Mick said ‘shall I just quickly show you the roof operation?’.

At this point I was running late for a swimming lesson, it was getting dark and the traffic was starting to increase. My concern was getting to the pool in time to collect the kids, but I thought ‘what’s the harm? I’m sure the roof on these is quite quick’.

Mick hopped in the car, which was parked next to the busy main road as rush hour traffic crawled past. Drivers gasped as drivers do, as two blokes, two big, manly, proper men stood in the rain on a cold March day removing the top from an Audi. The engine sounded sweet, and so did the roof mechanism – although that audible pleasure was short lived.

With the rain lashing down, the rear section of the soft top raised along with the front, and with the maximum amount of the interior exposed to the elements, it gave up. At first Mick tried to shrug it off in a ‘it always does this’ sort of way, but after about 20 seconds with the roof doing approximately nothing, it became clear that this was a problem.

I reassured Mick that I was still interested in the car, while my brain played a wide variety of possible scenarios that the universe had presented.

Here we are, by the side of the road in the rain, with a car that won’t seal, getting wetter by the minute and later by the second.

After trying every possible combination of key on, key off, clutch in, clutch out, hold the button, tap the button, press the button, surprise the button and more, the situation became more desperate.

Mick was embarrassed, as the roof had clearly worked earlier in the day when he sent me the odd wheel photos. I couldn’t let him leave in the Alpina without first securing the roof, he couldn’t drive back to Birmingham in the rain with the roof half on and half off, and I couldn’t escape in the volvo leaving him to await his fate with the RAC. No, the show must go on, and more importantly, so must this roof.

Whilst Mick tried to use his manly man power, I got busy with my fingers. Google said the roof could be operated manually with the use of the emergency roof key – the exact location of which had temporarily escaped Mick’s brain box, although he was sure it was somewhere in the car.

There’s two emergency locks that can be operated manually with the key, one near the rear view mirror and one inside the centre rear arm rest. Mick and I found ourselves in the back of the car, big, burly men, with brummie accents and a lot in common, alone together in the back of a steamy two door.

It was at this point I realised that my safety was potentially compromised. I was locked out of my house because the wife had the keys, alone with a big builder in the back of an Audi. Stranger Danger. Who was this Mick, and more importantly, which one of us was going to be raped and murdered first…?

Pushing these thoughts to the back of my mind, we gave up on the secret emergency key lock and decided to use brute force.

Mick raised the rear section of the roof whilst I tried to reach into the boot to explore the cavities for handles. As I was the smaller of the two, it was only natural that I’d be the little spoon.

Despite my diminutive figure, I couldn’t reach far enough into the boot without squeezing my ribs over the side of the car, so I edged my way forward and inches my feet up the tyres to try and get a finger on the big knob of the emergency key.

My progress over the side of the car and into the boot via the deck lid Hatch was being hampered by my t shirt, so I removed it to allow the rain water to act as a lubricant on my body to slide deeper into the crevasse of the convertible.

Although the situation looked bizarre to me, it must have looked utterly bewildering to passing drivers.

There’s big burly Mick stood next to a half topless Audi in the rain, with one hand on the soft top to stop it collapsing and one hand on the leg of another human, both of which are waggling in the air like a beacon that says ‘look at me’, whilst still being attached to my rainwater lubricated but definitely half naked body.

I was bracing against the rear of the car and the wrath of gravity, desperately trying not to fall into the darkness of the boot, whilst Mick did a sort of Mr Strongman Yoga Pose trying to simultaneously stop me falling into the abyss and stop the rear of the roof trapping me there.

Many cars passed by, witnessing the scene before the automotive gods decided to have the last laugh and let the inevitable unfold.

My search for the secret roof handle was unfruitful, but just as I began to extract myself from the uncomfortable head down position going through the centre of the car and into the boot, two things happened at once. Gravity, and Mick let go.

There was a loud squeal as my wet skin slid down the rubber roof seals, and Mick screamed as he could no longer hold my leg and the roof.

Gravity succeeded, the slide was unstoppable.. my wet torso was followed by my upturned legs and my whole body slid neatly through the hole and into the boot. There was a loud bang as my head hit the back of the car and a louder bang as the roof smashed back into the closed position. And locked.

Mick immediately rushed round to open the boot, but as the Audi had recognised a fault with the roof, it wasn’t possible to do so. The roof wouldn’t budge, the boot wouldn’t open, Mick was distraught and I was trapped.

In a bizarre twist of fate, my mobile phone had slid into the boot with me but I resisted the temptation to phone the wife and explain. I could hear her voice in my head already… ‘you’re where?! Stuck how?! With who?! Where’s your T shirt?!’

Although big Mick was panicking, I was able to keep quite a cool head – impressive considering how long i’d been upside down. By leaning down at the back of the car, Mick and I were able to communicate clear enough through the rear left light cluster.

Rush hour was in full flow, so calling the RAC was out. We didn’t think it wise to trouble the emergency services for fear of triggering some sort of gimp, man slave, pervert panic, so unanimously decided on option three.

Mick would drive us to the local Audi dealer who would help.

I’m not sure who was less comfortable on that drive, me, topless and wet and upside down trapped between the deck lid and boot of an Audi A4 Convertible, or Mick, who was driving an Audi A4 convertible with a stranger from Facebook marketplace trapped in the boot, half naked, very wet and upside down. This was going to take some explaining…

After a short drive we arrived at Audi, and I could hear muffled conversation by pulling the numberplate light socket out and pushing my ear to the hole. Mick was speaking with the sales manager, and after a little while two technicians came to the rescue.

I could feel tools tapping away beneath me, and moments later the harsh light of Audi’s workshop flooded the wet boot… I was free!

Wrapped in an Audi beach towel and warming my hands on a hot cup of instant coffee, we chatted with the Audi staff about the perils of convertible roofs whilst they packed up the showroom for the day.

They reset the roof, we said our thank yous and finally got back on our way – this time with me in the seat.

Comfortably cruising back home, I turned to my new friend big Mick and said to him ‘how on Earth did you explain all that to the sales manager at Audi?’

Mick laughed, and said he just told the story exactly as it took place, but couldn’t believe the sales managers reaction.

‘Don’t worry’ said the Audi guy, as he handed over a spare emergency roof key ‘happens all the time!’

Thanks for reading