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Look at the Wheels on That: Sabre Tank
And when you cruise down the street in it everyone – and I mean everyone – will be looking at you.
No it’s not some ludicrously powerful hot hatch or sports car. Keith Collantine’s been tearing up the streets of Northwich in a Sabre Tank.
Have you ever driven along a single track road and met a car coming the other way, and then had that awkward moment when you figure out who’s going to reverse?
That’s not a problem when you’re driving a tank.
There are other advantages, too. People don’t try to merge in front of you in traffic and not a single person you pass will fail to look at you.
I learnt this from mechanic Stephen Ellison, who took me for a spin in his 1974 Sabre Tank.
Stephen used to be in the Territorial Army, and began collecting bits of army paraphernalia after he left.
Some people might collect shell casings or bullets – but he thought big. He’s the proud owner of an ex-Bosnia radio hut and this seven-ton tank which saw action in Kosovo.
It packs a 190hp engine, but with seven tons of tank to lug around the top speed is restricted to 50mph for safety.
We don helmets and plug into the tank’s intercom system – the driver sits practically alongside the engine and you’ve no chance of making polite conversation over its deafening bark.
Sat on caterpillar tracks the tank has exceptional traction. With a deft flick of the steering Stephen turns the tracks in opposite directions and spins the tank like a top, before whizzing off again.
Some of its more exotic features have sadly been deactivated – namely the 30mm cannon and smoke grenade launchers. Pity.
Stephen has had plenty of practice chucking the tank’s 4.8m long chassis around – but how will a complete novice like me get on? It’s time I got behind the wheel.
Except there isn’t a wheel. There’s one lever for each track and you turn by accelerating one track quicker than the other. A pedal on the left changes gears up and down and a conventional accelerator and brake are on the right.
It doesn’t take too long to get used to the steering levers but I never mastered the foot-operated gears, crashing through the ‘box with gearchanges as smooth as Polish whiskey.
After I’ve terrorised the local wildlife for a few minutes Stephen takes charge again and we blast back to base for a thorough debrief.
All day long, the only people who haven’t gawped at us as we’ve rumbled past have been his nearest neighbours. Stephen tells me: “they don’t mind it, as long as I don’t rev it up early in the morning.”
“Once you’ve driven one, nothing else matches up,” he adds, and he’s dead right.
As a road vehicle it’s preposterously impractical – the barmy British spirit at its eccentric best.
I. Want. One. |
Stephen explains: “It spent 21 years in storage before it was ever used. I paid £14,000 for it and tax is £165 a year – but it’s MOT-exempt.” It’s also depreciated a fair bit from its original price tag of half a million pounds.
We start off on a country road and I’m all over the place, lurching around with all the finesse of a drunken elephant. Page 1
