On Sunday 3 Sep. Bill Hoskins at aq115@lafn.org sent me the
following story. I thought it was so good that, with his
permission, I'd share it with the rest of you.
Dear Dick -
Once upon a time, in world far, far away...I had a TC,
well, most of one. I put it together out of three or four
wrecks, derelicts, and parts-piles (you know the story - I
suspect you may have been there a time or two, yourself!)...it
sported wire screens over everything I could think of, outside
"pipes", a genuine, I-copied-it-from-a-picture "Brooklands"
silencer (no mufflers for THIS lad!), Brooklands windscreens,
no top, side-curtains, windshield, or any of that other sissy
stuff, and I'll leave it to your imagination to guess what
color it was painted.
At any rate, there was a Social Function that my Lady was
bent on attending (I can't remember now what it was, but it
entailed fancy hairdos, lots of makeup, and I must wear a
suit.), and the only available transportation was the TC. In
the same town, I had a slightly slightly demented friend(sic)
who owned a TR2.
On the way to the Function, who should pull up next to us
at a stop-light but guess who? Light went green, world went
hazy, and I slightly remember hearing screams coming from the
left seat. At the next light, I became aware that the screams
were directed to self, coming from strange-appearing
individual in left seat - hair very much awry, make-up
streaked, and bugs in unexpected places on the exposed
epidermis. Instructions, couched in no uncertain terms,
followed, to wit: go directly HOME - do not pass go, do not
collect etc.,...and the heartfelt wishes that I might go to
jail and other places best undescribed here. Lady never spoke
to me again.
By the way, I won!
regards,
Bill Hoskins
Yes Bill, I'd say you won in more ways than one!
Dick :>)
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