How I’m Saving The Autopian’s Hideous SsangYong From The Junkyard

I don’t need any more projects. Of the seven I have or am directly involved in or responsible for, none are roadworthy (Curse you, GTO brake line…), and there are at least a dozen more semi-regular visitors for various levels of tinkering. That is to say, even when the weather is playing ball, my driveway is often a hive of activity on weekends with something being done on one or more of a dozen different cars.

[Ed note: As you’ll see, the UK is full of very tall gentlemen named Adrian who will, with enough encouragement, take possession of a SsangYong. Thankfully, this Adrian is handy with a wrench. We are eternally grateful to him. – MH]

And yet here I am, in early September, just as the nights start drawing in, as the British weather starts to get more unpredictable, I find myself lurching into another project. But this is no ordinary project. This is a mercy mission. Saving a beloved tolerated steed from a one-way trip to the scrap yard after serving the good folk at The Autopian in sterling fashion these last 3 months.

Adrian Clarke has been trying to rid himself of the “Road-Zeus” for some time, and coincidentally, I interviewed him about this very car at Rustival at the end of August—its last obligation, not even a week before this whole plan came into being. The need to move on the Rodius has come up a few times on The Autopian discord, following a disastrous early MOT which nearly scuppered the Rustival visit entirely.

I offered up my driveway for storage space along with a few others, but fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately for Adrian) the existing MOT remained valid, so he was duty-bound to keep this outside his front door for another few weeks, at least.

Eventually, though, with all event obligations taken care of, it was time to do something. The clock was ticking, and eventually this was going to become a problem. Once the MOT expires, the car has to be off the public road entirely. Everything becomes more difficult once that expires. Travelling to a test centre can be a grey area of hot debate. You can’t tax the vehicle without a valid MOT, and without a valid MOT and tax, insurance policies aren’t technically valid. Despite guidance saying that Yes, you can drive without an MOT to get a MOT, an insurance company will always find an excuse not to pay out if they can.

So, without a driveway, or indeed the desire to do the work yourself, this kind of list is easily four figures at any local independent garage. And considering Adrian had already bought the fizz to celebrate its departure, I think it’s fair to say interacting with it more than absolutely necessary and doing the work himself on the roadside was out of the question.

That meant the only real option was the scrap yard, and that didn’t sit well with David. Allowing what is in every practical sense a running, driving vehicle to be prematurely taken out back and Old Yeller’d for what is really, a couple of minor flesh wounds in semi-consumable parts. It’s a crying shame, cheap cars like this are the lifeblood of so many people in all walks of life, and they’re disappearing from marketplaces quicker than they’re being replenished.

So the call went out again shortly after Rustival

Once again, enter yours truly. A man with half a dozen problems already on his drive, a willingness to add more given the chance, and a YouTube Channel to share the outcome. I volunteered to have a crack at keeping it on the road, for better or for worse. Any attempt has to be worth a shot, and maybe it’s a simple fix, an overzealous MOT tester giving a hard time to an old barge because they, too, maybe have an axe to grind, or to lodge in the grill given its looks.

I’d seen the failures when the first shout went out, and looking back over them again, I probably cursed this from the outset. “How hard can it be?” I asked myself.

I’d not given any thought to parts availability or how crusty and stubborn every bolt could potentially be. I hadn’t even taken the opportunity to have a look at the car while it was at Rustival, even out of curiosity, such was my disconnect from entertaining the idea of either getting another project, or that project being the Rodius.

So that was it, I fell on the sword, and we formed a plan. With a convenient hole on my driveway that until recently was occupied by my ‘66 Thunderbird, a YouTube channel to document the work, and a willingness to put words on paper, arrangements were made to collect the Rodius.

Adrian put the champagne on ice, I made arrangements with my ever understanding partner to drive up and collect it… once she got back from a holiday with her folks. At least she wasn’t going to come home to another car on the drive. By making her complicit in the act, I think I may have brainwashed her, since she took a surprisingly small amount of convincing that this was a good idea.

I’d planned to drive the Thunderbird to Rustival after it’d had some TLC at a friend’s garage. Once that turned into more than just some electrics (zero compression on at least one cylinder), the GTO took up the mantle. Then a brake pipe burst as I was leaving the house to get it an MOT on the Thursday before. Projects, amirite?

Still, with the Thunderbird away for some time being slowly (and thus cheaply!) looked over, the space was free for the Rodius for the foreseeable future!

Last week, the plan was set in motion. We drove up to meet a positively thrilled Adrian, delighted that his suffering was finally going to come to an end. He took me through some known issues.

• Air-con doesn’t work.
• The brakes are weak.
• The temperature gauge drops to zero, and the engine management light comes on for a minute.
• One tire has a screw in it.

You know, the usual used car problems, and then it was time to crack the fizz.

The two greatest days of owning a boat a Ssangyong Rodius, are, so I’m told, the day it arrives and the day it leaves, although I suspect Adrian would take issue with the first of those. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone as happy to see a car drive away.

During the drive home, I had ample time to contemplate the potential mistake I’ve made in agreeing to try to save the Ssangyong. However, on first experience, there was less to complain about than you might expect.

The Rodius’s road manners are decent, and it drives pretty well. The seats are comfy, although it doesn’t seem to have much caster. Once you’re turning, it doesn’t seem to auto-center. There are only two real complaints I have about the interior: One, the cup holders in the center of the dash don’t hold cups. Any medium-paced turn is enough to share the contents of an open drink with the cup holder itself. At least it’s water-tight. And two, the foot pedal for the parking brake sits directly in line with my shin and ankle at rest. At least once you’re inside, you no longer have to look at the outside.

Once I got home, I could give the problem areas on the MOT a quick look over and start making a list of parts. To recap, the defects are far from catastrophic in the grand scheme of 20-year-old cars. But one in particular item had become much worse in the three or so weeks since. Were this in the US, it would doubtless cover thousands more miles before the two “major” issues, a broken spring and a leaking CV boot, would even be given a second thought.

I’m amazed that while the rear discs were picked up as being worn, nothing was mentioned about the pads. On the way down, there was a noticeable grinding from one side. I suspect the design of the wheels has something to do with this, since you can’t really get a good look until you take the wheel off, and that’s not something the tester is allowed to do in the test.

Removing the wheel confirmed it. Heavy scoring, almost zero pad left, and in some places, metal-on-metal contact. The discs seemed to have very little wear, however. I’m hoping someone put new discs on with the old pads.

Mercifully, the CV boot and coil spring are both on the same corner, and as luck would have it, so is the wheel bearing. If I’m lucky, I can get away with only taking one corner of the car to pieces to fix all of those defects. Pulling the nearside front wheel off, the discs are in much better shape, but heavily lipped, so it’ll most likely need replacing along with the pads, which are only about half worn.

Finally, we get to the two major defects. The boot is pretty cut and dry (if only figuratively for the latter). There’s a tear about one fourth of the way around, and it’s throwing CV grease over the inside of the caliper—probably not great for braking efficiency or the health of the joint. The night before, I’d had a quick look at the spring and couldn’t see an obvious crack, lots of peeling and cracked powder coat, but nothing deep.

Maybe I’d got lucky. Maybe the tester’s torchlight had made one of these flakes of coating seem deeper and given the impression of a full-on crack through the metal. I’d not heard any creaking on the drive down, no jingle of a loose coil rattling around. It wasn’t even sitting awkwardly low on one side like you’d expect from a broken-in-half spring, despite a particularly heavy hit from a pot hole near Oxford. There was a chance.

Bugger.

This is a problem. Although I’d not looked up anything before, once the plan was in motion, I did think to have a quick look around, just to gauge what the repair was going to cost. What I found was concerning: There aren’t any.

New rear springs are available, generally aftermarket. Most places are out of stock, but there are some second-hand OEM units on eBay. Front springs are a different story; no one sells them. Most places don’t even have them out of stock; they just don’t have a listing at all.

I found one complete front strut, but by the time I could lay eyes on the car to confirm it was the right one, it had sold. I should have jumped and bought it when I saw it. In retrospect, I’d have taken the £150 hit and tried to resell it for the chance of having an easy time.

Resigned to replacing both front springs, I started searching in earnest. Some scant references to the Rexton II using the same part gave me some hope. A couple of hours turned up no conclusive answer to the question, but they looked the same, and eventually I found a part number for the OEM unit (44324-21000). 21000 is stamped into the back of the shock outside, so this seemed promising. With the correct part number, I found a couple of vendors both claiming to have stock on the shelf… but in the US. By the time these heavy chunks get shipped and hit customs, they’ll be pushing £150 each. That’s plenty more than the £45 for the Rexton II units, and I still don’t know if they’re secretly identical.

One site gave a glimmer of hope. It listed an aftermarket front spring under “Ssangyong Rodius / Rexton II.” I even found the part on the UK supplier site I was already ordering the other parts from, but it said it was incompatible. I looked back at the previous site, clicked the listing, and once inside saw the message “this does not fit the Rodius.” Heartbreaking.

More searching eventually revealed the actual specs I needed: Overall diameter, thickness, and most importantly, the overall length of the Rodius unit: 375mm. The Rexton II spring is 385mm. Rats.

I can return them if they don’t fit, at least. So I’ve ordered the Rexton II springs with all the other parts. I’ll keep an eye out for another used strut, or even just a spring, because taking both apart leaves me wide open to a case of “While I’m here, I might as well…” for both the shocks and top mounts.

I mean, why not? So long as I can get this one finished befo– oh hey, what’s that over there!

The first episode of the Save The Ssangyong series is on YouTube right now with a bit more detail, and Adrian’s gleeful reaction to it leaving. Once the parts arrive, another episode will go up, along with another write-up, so whether you like to watch or read our escapades trying to keep this off the scrapheap, you’re covered.

We’ve been fortunate to be featured before, our maybe-we-bit-off-more-than-we-could-chew project built from an unfinished kit car and an Audi TT with Chris, an Ex-Formula E tech. I’m thrilled David and the team have entrusted us to keep the Rodius going and share the journey with the readers who inflicted it upon Adrian, making it possible.