Michael P. Ohleger wrote:
>
> Ah! those were the days. The Pledge Master of my fraternity owned a
>fifty-something
> Morris Minor. One late Saturday night, we took down the 3 foot brick wall
>that
> surrounded the patio of the Fraternity House, rolled the car in and (one of
>the pledge
> brothers having had the experience) bricked it back up. We tried to lift the
>Morris,
> but found that we couldn't get the damned thing high enough to clear the
>brick wall,
> hence the re-brick job. The House went goofy on Sunday Morning because he
>thought his
> beloved Morris was stolen, and then caught hell from the police when someone
>noticed the
> car on the patio. He ended up *paying* to have the car removed and the patio
>brick work
> repaired, so profound was his embarassment that his charges were so unruly.
>
> Cheers,
>
> Michael Ohleger
> '67 MGB
> '70 MGB
I used to know a bloke called George who was the landlord of The Three
Feathers pub in Totternhoe, Bedfordshire, U.K.. He was the strongest
man I had ever met, having worked most of his life in a foundry before
retiring to the pub. One day a woman came into the pub and asked to use
the phone to call a local garage because she had a flat rear tyre on her
Mini. George called us outside, and, while he singlehandedly lifted the
whole of the rear of the car, we swopped the flat for the spare.
Geoff Love, The English Connection
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