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Peugeot 306 Rallye - long-term review  - Report No:2

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Peugeot 306 Rallye - long-term review - Report No:2 | Top Gear

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Time for our 'youngtimer' to see the light of day. Oh dear

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Peugeot 306 Rallye - long-term review - Report No:2

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Time for our 'youngtimer' to see the light of day. Oh dear

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Time for our 'youngtimer' to see the light of day. Oh dear

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Peugeot 306 Rallye - long-term review - Report No:2

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It’s not staying in the garage, so let’s get it out and have a look at it. I let the handbrake off and try to push it out. No can do. The tyres are flat. I spend ten minutes and quite a lot of effort with a bike pump reinserting air. No immediate hissing, which is good.

We roll it out. This is possible because the brakes haven’t welded themselves on and with untypical foresight I’d left the handbrake off. It’s a sorry sight. The garage roof has leaked, so there’s water damage, discolouration and mould all over. A cobweb spans the gap between roof and aerial.

I twist the key in the ignition. Nothing. That was expected. So I get out, hook up the jump leads to the Velar, leave it a few minutes to try and tickle some life into the battery then try again. And whaddya you know, the air vent fans start running and lights glow on the dash. It seems to have temporarily forgotten how many miles it's done (good), replacing that display with a small spanner (hardly a surprise).

I twist key again. There’s a terminal sounding click and everything dies. Ignition relay? Blown fuse? I have a peremptory poke around in the filthy, corroding engine bay and draw a blank. Fuses seem fine, connections intact. I could go and buy a new battery, but something tells me there are more fundamental issues at play here. It’s going to need some proper professional diagnosing, and I’m not the man to do it.

Obviously there is no MOT, and I declared it SORN back in 2016, so it’s not road legal, even if I had been able to get it started. The solution is a trailer, hastily borrowed from nearby Mission Motorsport. My lock-up is down the end of a very inconveniently tight cul-de-sac, and reversing the trailer down there, even with guidance from my dad as banksman, is one of my proudest driving achievements. I’m bloody glad the trailer has a winch attached but, even so, heaving a Rallye back and forth across gravel and grass with its semi flat tyres so it lines up with the trailer has the pair of us cursing and sweating.

20 minutes later T916 JKP is loaded and strapped down tight, but not too tight. I’m half concerned about buckling suspension components with an extra click of the ratchet, before working out that this stress test would be a good thing – better to have it collapse on a trailer than when I’m actually driving it.

The Velar tows 1,150kg of Peugeot hot hatch very happily, the 306 buoyantly jouncing along like it’s glad to be out. The destination is an hour north, with Peugeot hot hatch specialists Pug1Off in Brackley. Their faces are a picture when I roll up.

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It’s not staying in the garage, so let’s get it out and have a look at it. I let the handbrake off and try to push it out. No can do. The tyres are flat. I spend ten minutes and quite a lot of effort with a bike pump reinserting air. No immediate hissing, which is good.

We roll it out. This is possible because the brakes haven’t welded themselves on and with untypical foresight I’d left the handbrake off. It’s a sorry sight. The garage roof has leaked, so there’s water damage, discolouration and mould all over. A cobweb spans the gap between roof and aerial.

I twist the key in the ignition. Nothing. That was expected. So I get out, hook up the jump leads to the Velar, leave it a few minutes to try and tickle some life into the battery then try again. And whaddya you know, the air vent fans start running and lights glow on the dash. It seems to have temporarily forgotten how many miles it's done (good), replacing that display with a small spanner (hardly a surprise).

I twist key again. There’s a terminal sounding click and everything dies. Ignition relay? Blown fuse? I have a peremptory poke around in the filthy, corroding engine bay and draw a blank. Fuses seem fine, connections intact. I could go and buy a new battery, but something tells me there are more fundamental issues at play here. It’s going to need some proper professional diagnosing, and I’m not the man to do it.

Obviously there is no MOT, and I declared it SORN back in 2016, so it’s not road legal, even if I had been able to get it started. The solution is a trailer, hastily borrowed from nearby Mission Motorsport. My lock-up is down the end of a very inconveniently tight cul-de-sac, and reversing the trailer down there, even with guidance from my dad as banksman, is one of my proudest driving achievements. I’m bloody glad the trailer has a winch attached but, even so, heaving a Rallye back and forth across gravel and grass with its semi flat tyres so it lines up with the trailer has the pair of us cursing and sweating.

20 minutes later T916 JKP is loaded and strapped down tight, but not too tight. I’m half concerned about buckling suspension components with an extra click of the ratchet, before working out that this stress test would be a good thing – better to have it collapse on a trailer than when I’m actually driving it.

The Velar tows 1,150kg of Peugeot hot hatch very happily, the 306 buoyantly jouncing along like it’s glad to be out. The destination is an hour north, with Peugeot hot hatch specialists Pug1Off in Brackley. Their faces are a picture when I roll up.

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Time for our 'youngtimer' to see the light of day. Oh dear