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Re: where did it begin for you?

To: Anthony Case <easu816@ea.oac.uci.edu>
Subject: Re: where did it begin for you?
From: "R.M. Bownes III" <bownes@lucas.emi.com>
Date: Tue, 31 Jan 1995 23:33:47 -0500 (EST)
Well, I can remember the next door neighbor's morgan fondly. He sold
it a few years later, but four years ago his sons got him a healy 3000
as a congratulations gift for winning the election to Judge in his (?) county.

But what really did it for me was a picture I will always remember.

Parked under the last streetlight before the pedestrian bridge, in front
of the last ivy covered dorm room in the quad at Rensselaer Polytechnic.
I can still see it gleaming in the bright evening light. It was (later I 
discovered not a *real Triumph colour) *RED*, and *CHROME*. Like the '71 
Z28 I had raced a few years earlier, the same *RED*. It was a Triumph 
GT-6+. At the time I didn't know the difference between a 6+ and a TR-6,
nor a TR and an MG. But I remember that car well. 

Later, I moved to Texas, but just before I bought a 61 Sprite to restore 
as an engagement present. It was stolen before I could pick it up. 

Once I got to Texas, the week she and I parted company, I bought a rather 
ratty but solid 71 Midget. Said Midget had a bum 1st gear, needed paint,
didn't have a single functioning electrical circuit, needed at least 4 
shocks, needed a carpet set, and had a back window only slightly less 
opaque than the trunk lid. But I spent 9 months restoring that little 
roller skate as therapy for splitting up with said fiancee. I drove it to 
work, got stranded a few times by a mystery lucas deamon, painted it in 
the warehouse I worked in, put in a new trans & shocks. I parked it under 
the Fed-Ex truck we had in the loading bay every day. Got soaked in a few 
Texas rainshowers, and generally had a blast. Then came the day I went to 
work a little late and had it totaled by a woman driving a buick. Very 
old net members may still remember the posting I put out about lunchtime 
that day. The shakes set in about halfway through. The reason the buick 
didn't see me was a child standing in the back seat. Fortunately, no one 
was hurt, just 9 months of my time, effort, and pain. But the future had 
much better things in store.

The insurance company, seeing a large lawsuit, asked what I wanted, and I 
got it. I went down to TR Sales in Ft. Worth and picked out the Pimento 
TR-6 that was parked out front. LizBeth and I have been together ever 
since. We've traveled thousands of miles together, through rain, snow, 
and hours of sunshine. Across Texas, New York, Kansas, Massachusetts, and 
more states than I can think of. We've traveled to The SCCA Solo II 
Nationals, local solo events, and Vintage Triumph meets. We've run 
together at racetracks across the country, Road America, Brainard, 
Loudon, and Lime Rock. She's not been well the last year, but will be 
back this summer in famous style. She's my buddy, been there through 
thick and thin. She's an extension of my own being on those glorious brisk 
spring morning runs to work, and the sunny summer runs to my favorite fly 
fishing spots. But most especially, we are one on the quick romps 
through Vermont and the golden leaves of New York in the fall.
I remember crying the day I drove to Saratoga the spring I returned to 
New York after living in Texas, the day with the warm sunshine, bright 
green leaves, and sweet smell of the day after a spring rain in the early 
morning. We were Home.

Ownership of the TR-6 lead to further madness. I bought more Triumphs. 
A 64 Spitfire race car followed, as did a 72 GT-6. Parts cars and rollers
dot the collection now, but the memory of that Red GT-6+ lingers on the days
Lizbeth and I commune down the roadways of life, bathed in that warm 
sunshine that you will always remember.

Scott Fisher could have said it better I bet.

iii

Bob Bownes
bownes@emi.com          518-458-1102

On Tue, 31 Jan 1995, Anthony Case wrote:

>       A few months ago, during the "stereotypes" thread, I wrote that 
> my love for british cars goes back to my childhood. There was the Alpine 
> that my second grade teacher drove me home in when I missed the bus. 
> There was that woman in my home town who drove a Morgan, who would wave 
> at me every morning as I stared at her on my way to school.
>       This got me to thinking. What makes us who we are? Regaled with 
> constant horror stories of river-like oil leaks, Lucas electrical woes 
> and other British engineering disasters we refuse to learn. We should 
> know better than to keep on involving ourselves with these rotting old 
> crocks. However, I believe that every person on this list would agree 
> that an old British sports car is superior to a brand new Toyota. 
>       So, out of curiosity I`d like to know how it all started for you all?
> Was it something that you saw on television as a child? Maybe a car that 
> a neighbor had? Perhaps a James Bond movie? There`s got to be a ton of 
> great stories out there! 
> 
> 
>               Anthony Case, Once and future Britcar victim
> 
> 


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