Skip Cusask's note on owning "just a B" struck a cord with me. ( A cord -
now THERE'S a car) I began this current disease with "just a Spitfire".
It matters not a hoot what you own. The people like you who own, cherish
and work on their cars have the full experience of the hobby. PLUS you
can drives a B and enjoy it. The toffee nosed twits are in every car
club and you just avoid them. THey may be drawn in greater numbers to
the more expensives marques but I now have my Healey and there are a lot
of great people who have no more money than me and do all their own work.
We admire those perfect cars, but have little to talk to the owners
about. What do you do with those rolling sculptures?
It's the process that matters, the trials and tribulations, the problem
conquered, the days it runs just right. It's the pain and suffering and
waiting for funds that forms the colours with which we paint those
moments of joy when all is right with the world.
Now with three cars ( a TR3 in concours shape) I can honestly say that I
would never part with the Spit. It's a lovely little nimble road dancer.
We've been through a lot. I can roar down a gravel road without caring. I
can park it in the back lot at work.
Anyone who makes you feel that you can't hold your head up high in an MGB
is not worth the powder to blow them up. (IMHO)
I once told a fellow you had never touched a wrench to his Healey that
his relationship with the car (versus my realtionship with mine) was like
the differnce between a one night bang with a hooker versus a really good
marriage. You know, he was a great guy, took it in stride and named his
car the painted lady !
By the way, if your B finds out that you're ashamed of her in company
she'll roll into a Bentley or break down in the minddle of the night.
As someone else said, go out and wax her !
Chris Ball
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