• Les Patterson saves the world

• A Day Off by Cory and Diana Cook
• Ed's Birthday Treat by Paul Thompson
• Ferret Convoy - May 2001-05-18 by Paul Thompson
• Fame at Last by Arnstein Tranoy
• Ferretology by Jim Webster
• Reminiscences by Ed 'Smudge' Smith 9/12th Royal Lancers 1962-1974

Best sports car in the business once "Endex" came - we were always the first back in barracks!!

You may have heard of the title services that advertise in various publications like Hemming's Motor News and others. These services will obtain a registration (and title in some cases) for a vehicle that has a dubious or non existent "paper trail". The process is simple. You "sell" your vehicle to them, with a notarized bill of sale. The title service in turn obtains a current and valid registration in one of the states, usually New Hampshire or Alabama. Then the title service "sells" the vehicle back to you, providing you with the registration and notarized bill of sale with you as the "new" owner. The advertise 5-7 day service!

New Hampshire is an easy state to deal with because they do not "title" vehicles that are over 10 years old. They issue a registration only, and provide a letter from the Secretary of State's office that explains this. The title service I used is in Las Vegas (which made me slightly nervous). Not to worry - they provided prompt, accurate service. The owner even called me on New Year's Day to confirm some details to make sure they would make their promise of the five to seven day turn around. The paperwork arrived as promised, within a week, complete and ready to take to the local licensing bureau.

Back to the inspection. It's 39 degrees out, and damp. I bundle up and open all the vision hatches on the Ferret, make a final check of all lighting functions (hoping to circumvent Murphy's Law) prior to our inspection. I open the hatches, and quickly dismount the Browning .30 MG from the turret. No sense having one more thing to explain. I think of Ben, the trucker who brought me the Ferret, sitting in handcuffs somewhere in Texas.

Goggles and gloves on, beret in place (you can't wear a cap with a visor in a Ferret - it will get knocked off in short order because it's just too close in there) and off we go, beating a path through the school children who have just been released from the middle school at the end of my block. "Awesome", "All Right" and other cheers were heard as I made my way through the urchins waiting for their parents.

My route to the inspection station took me onto the Perimeter Road at the Seattle-Tacoma Airport. Now here, I thought, is another great opportunity for some dingbat to call 911 and report an attack on the airport. It was only for around one eighth of a mile, and then we turned off that road, no problems.

We cruised into the inspection lane, with only one car ahead of us. I could see the guys inside gesturing for the others to come out and look. I shut down the engine (so I can hear) and the oldest of these ancient folks says "We can't inspect that, it's not street legal". Here we go, I think. "But it has headlights, tail and brake lights, turn signals, mirrors, even a license plate light". The oldest Ancient One trundles off, muttering. The others think it is cool, and begin asking questions. "I'm going to call headquarters" says Ancient One, disappearing into the office. Meanwhile the others decide to get back to business, and one guy starts to look over the Ferret.

After a while on the phone, Ancient One emerges from the office and I give him the New Hampshire registration. "Where's the title", he grumbles. I explain about the New Hampshire law, and start to give him a copy of the letter from NH that explains all this. Meanwhile a smile lights up the Ancient One's face. He says "You wasted your money on this, you'll never be able to license that thing with this registration". He still has not read the letter. I smile some more (smiling is a good thing when you have to deal with these folks). I tell him that I will deal with that later, and all I really need today is to get the VIN on the registration validated against the numbers stamped on the hull data plate. Grumble grumble grumble.... The number two guy smiles at me, shakes his head, and grabbing his flashlight, peers through the driver's hatch to look at the hull data plate. "Yup, number's the same" he says, smiling, scribbling some more on the form on his clipboard. Another giant step forward!

I have arrived within half an hour of closing time, and now the Ancient One, probably recognizing that he may be losing this discussion, appears with his lunchbox and gives the Ferret a few final frowns before shambling off to a piece of junk car that needed inspection a lot more than my Ferret. The Number Two guy finishes the inspection sheet, grins, and gives it to me, and says"Have fun with that thing!". I have WON this battle, but not the war.

After a quick (and cold) trip home I switch vehicles. NO WAY am I showing up at the licensing bureau with the Ferret. All my paperwork is in order, and I've done business in the same office before. The ladies there are really good at understanding how this sort of thing works, and especially for "collector vehicle" licensing. I explain to the clerk that the Ancient One did not even read the NH letter explaining the title stuff, and the clerk says "No problem". How many times have you heard THAT and things have gone in the toilet? I am still expecting problems.

I am very pleasantly surprised when the registration and titling process goes along with no hiccups. In short order I am out the door with my temporary license plate (they mail me the real one), fully registered to a green and black 1960 Daimler FV701 passenger vehicle! WE WON THE WAR !!!!

It is VERY IMPORTANT to note that during this entire series of contacts with the License Gods, I did not utter the dreaded words MILITARY or ARMOR. I have absolutely no doubt that this helped make the process move ahead, rather than come to a very abrupt halt with a "What did you say? ARMOR?". Also SMILE as if your registration depends on it - it DOES...

Now I can cruise the highways and byways of Washington (and any other state for that matter) as a fully street legal, licensed collector plated military vehicle! Whoopee! Tomorrow there is a training program for the state's Commercial Vehicle Inspectors that I have an involvement in - I may take the Ferret, if it isn't raining. That ought to be a hit!

Today (Saturday, April 8, 2000) was a very nice day in Seattle, and the beginning of the "official" car show season. So, after a little sprucing up, Ferret and I motored off the easy 1-1/2 miles to the local department store parking lot which sponsors an every Saturday evening "show 'n shine". A nice evening will usually bring out 200 or more cars. We turned into the lot...

I found a parking spot that allowed be to pull me in straight ahead, no backing (lots of children - they tend to stick in the tire tread and make a big mess when backed over). After a demonstration of physical conditioning (exiting the Ferret without looking like toothpaste squeezing from the tube), I descend into the crowd that has now gathered.

The first order of business was to inform all within hearing that "that corner is REALLY HOT", pointing at the muffler shield and tailpipe. Not that the simple warning would prevent me from a lawsuit, I'm sure. With my luck some lawyer's kid would run up and grab on just to see if I was telling the truth.

Then the tire-kicking and questions begin in earnest. After a bit I began to take note of the questions and their answers. Never mind that I had two full descriptions of the Ferret printed out and available to anyone who could read, one on each side. Hmmm. Maybe the folks in my part of Seattle can't read? Anyway, the questions ran sort of like this"

"Is that a real gun?" referring to the Browning .30 MG in the turret.
"How much does it weigh?"
"Does that gun shoot?"
"What kind of gas mileage do you get?"
"Do the cops stop you because of that gun?"
"What kind of a motor does it have?"
"Is that a real gun?"
"Why did you get it?" (answer - because I could)
"Is that a real machine gun?"
"How much did it cost?"
"I REALLY like that GUN. Where can I get one?"

By now you get the picture. Only once did I have to extract some young woman that was attempting to stuff herself through the turret into the driver's area. I only had my back turned for a moment - she was pretty agile for a "stout" lady. The rubber grenade launcher caps survived a few pokes and prods, but not as many as I might have imagined. I answered a lot of questions that were reasonably intelligent, and talked with a few old military types that had driven "heavy metal" during various conflicts.

All in all it was a successful first outing. Next time I will: take my folding chairs along so I can sit down during all this, and watch the tire kickers in the front of the Ferret, where there is the greatest danger of "tinkering", and provide more numerous description sheets so I don't have to answer quite so many questions. It was a great opportunity to discuss the collection of military vehicles. I found one young man who had, in addition to his freshly painted old Franklin, an M38 and a Jeep. He became an instant candidate for my local MVPA group. I enjoyed discussing the use of the Ferret, and the fact that they are not rare, just not often driven on the streets by their owners. I've driven about 100 miles each month since the very end of December, and intend to hit more shows as they come along. The response is great! There are always lots and lots of 55-56-57 Chevys, but so far, only one Ferret!

I would encourage the MIL-VEH owners to give some of the "regular" car shows a try. The folks are always interested in the mechanical aspect of our rigs, and are often owners of military vehicles but do not belong to any club or group. For the most part they are respectful of your property, and will only touch things if invited to do so. I also intend to order up some MVPA decals and other identifiable "stuff" so that I might be able to encourage others to either join or attend some of the events that feature restored military vehicles.

So, after two or so hours of blabbing about the Ferret and explaining for the zillionth time that "the gun can't shoot", I went home to dinner and making plans for the next event!

Before going over to Cyprus, my recce squadron would practice maneuvers in the country side of New Brunswick, where we were we stationed. In the winter it could get very cold while driving a MK 1 ferret. Our RCEME guys came up with a canvas tube that ran from the rear of the car. It was fitted over the hot air exhaust at the rear of the ferret and run up to the two ports on either side of the crew commanders position. These ports were in the open position and the hot air from the exhaust came into the crew position. It was nice and toasty in there. The drivers wind screen was in use and the hot air was funneled along side of the crew commander into the drivers position. The crew commander had his own vent for staying warm. It did the job in the winter and our hats were raised to the those RCEME men who came up with the idea.

When this Ferret, #00-DC-10, was released from the BAOR and sold at auction, I'm sure everyone involved believed it's fighting days were over. Actually this particular Ferret spent it's whole time in Germany, training and was never in combat and never saw any fighting whatsoever.

That was it's first life, now in it's second life #00-DC-10 finds it's way to California retired from British service. It's over a year later from that great ocean crossing and believe it or not, this Ferret is unexpectedly part of a combat force sent in to engage the enemy under fire.

Well, all right, I suppose it was a bit of a stretch to say engage the enemy, it actually never engaged anyone and the enemy....well, it was just one gunman. In fact the Ferret was just out of harms way as the bullets were flying, however, it was fair to say that she was at the ready. Hatches battened down and prepared for combat... but not really "in" combat! ; )

I was told early in the day that a berserk man, possible high on drugs, had started firing at passing cars from his home. Police were summoned and shots were exchanged. SWAT forces moved in and more shots were fired, perhaps a hundred or more rounds total were fired by both sides. By the time I arrived on the scene, it was well into the 10th hour of the stand off and the sometimes gunfight.

In the begining I was at a road block, far away from the action and it was not till after midnight that I was asked to move the Ferret into position near the front line while the SWAT team prepared for an assault on the house.

This was a very well coordinated, well equipped military type operation... very impressive. Wished you could have seen it. Officers in kevlar helmets, battle dress uniforms, automatic weapons with silencers, tear gas launchers, flash bangs, etc. It was for real and the moment was deadly serious. As the SWAT team moved toward the house under the cover of darkness, I sat safely out of range and inside the closed confines of the Ferret.

I kept one armoured flap on my left in the up position...... my one and only link to the outside. I listened for instructions from the commander who stood nearby in a light rain. It had been coming down off and on for an hour and it suddenly turned into a real gully washer.......I soon learned that no matter where you sit in a Ferret, the rain always dribbles into your lap, especially so when it's pouring outside. If you have ever driven a Ferret in the rain, you know what I mean.

The assault time was near (0024 hrs) and I tilted my head close to the one open window and sat as the minutes passed, but still no shooting. Nearly 10 minutes later, the Ferret was still chugging along at an idle...and I was still waiting. It was a funny feeling sitting there, not a hundred yards away from gunfire. I imagined my British counterparts not so long ago probably doing much the same in Northern Ireland.

So there I was, in the dark, soaking wet and waiting for the signal to jump in, followed by the inevitable sounds of bullets thumping against the hull. I have to admit I was a little worried about the headlights being shot off or some other hard to find part being damaged, but I was not concerned in the slightest about the integrity of the armour. It was comforting to know there was nothing in the gunman's arsenal that could penetrate the hull... he was firing a .357 and a .22.

I have to tell you, it's a different sound in that Ferret when it's all buttoned up like that, especially if you slide back into the gunners seat. From up there in the turrent section, the engine noise takes on a more throaty rumble..sounds meaner I think, but maybe that was just the excitement of the moment speaking.

Then it happened, the first of two loud explosions, definately too loud for gunfire, I figured it had to be the grenades. They came in rapid succession and that meant the SWAT team had broken through the windows and tossed in the flash bangs...the stun grenades. I listened for the sound of gun fire, but there was nothing for almost 3 minutes. Then a radio message received by the operations commander signaled a code 4, all clear. It would be another 10 minutes before the swat members would come trudging up the canyon road. They looked more like a platoon of soldiers than police officers.. something out of a movie too. They were walking in the rain, illuminated by emergency flood lights. From the distance of about a 100 yards they almost looked hazy. An ereey sight I can guarantee you, especially from the dark confines of the Ferret.

The good news was the suspect was in custody and nobody was injured. He apparently fled the house as the flash bangs went off and surrendered without further incident. Despite the shooting, he was remarkably completely unscathed, although he looked exhausted. He showed absolutely no emotion as he was marched back to a caged unit. He had survived dozens of rounds of small arms fire and somehow escaped any serious effects of the tear gas that was launched repeatedly, perhaps 14 or 15 times, into the small house.

As the suspect was placed in the back of the patrol unit, a few of the officers went back to search the house for weapons and the gas mask he must have worn. As for me, my job ended where it began, sitting in the Ferret, waiting for the signal to go in, possibly as a shield or a distraction or even as a scout as the need may be. As it turned out, I did none of those things, but the Ferret was absolutely ready. In fact everyone acknowledged it was better equipped for its task than the SWAT team transport vehicle on the scene... it was definitely better armoured! A few of the SWAT officers walked slowly by peering into the cockpit, then one said, "Who's is this, DOJ's?" I said, "No..... MVPA," with a smile that went unnoticed. The acronym was not challenged, perhaps because they were just too exhausted or possibly because it seemed to fit well with all the others present like CPD, BNE, BCSO, etc. I did explain it anyway and they seemed amused that this was not a police vehicle.

As things wrapped up and the vehicles began to leave the scene, more than one officer walking by me said it was pretty neat to have the Ferret there, just in case. I have to agree... it was pretty neat being there with it too. I was pleased to help, but in the final analysis I didn't really do anything, yet it was an experience I'll not soon forget!