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LBC scribbles...

To: "Sprite Mailing List" <spridgets@autox.team.net>
Subject: LBC scribbles...
From: "Toby Atwater" <tob@sb.net>
Date: Sun, 11 Jul 1999 03:34:10 -0700
Reply-to: "Toby Atwater" <tob@sb.net>
Sender: owner-spridgets@autox.team.net
After a worthy pit time oil change,
and a clean working PCV valve
BTW the old oil looked a bit strange,
and the cooling probs resolved,

The Sprite runs better than ever!
I'll play it safe and bring a screwdriver.
She looks ravashing as always and very petite,
quite fitting in the sprite's passenger seat. 

We cruise State Street,
and what should we see
an MGB that looks sorta beat,
for sale with an area code two one three,
for sale, not really, take it for free

Oh but the Healey is roaring with life
as I downshift and steer,
whoa oh my! my car almost strifes,
trying to avoid a mistaken deer,
and almost spilling our well loved guinness beer.

Carving out the corners like a hot sharp knife
Catch a smell of oil, grease, gasoline,  nice.
In search for dinner, we venture over those flat wide hills,
at this resturant, for sure, there aint no free refills.

Windin out the tach press the needle to the edge
Cutting through the air like a high-performance wedge
That first gear is sounding odd, that I hate
Perhaps in order is a call to RiverGate.

Dinner is fabulous and I leave a nice tip,
We then cruise over to the shore
for a nice midnight dip,
"whoa oh my" we swum about a mile off shore...
and I'm telling you, that swim was no bore!

"can I drive?" those three little words that make me fear,
So we hop in to take 'er for a spin,
I tought my heart was gonna stop as she shifts to fourth gear,
"she drives real nice" givin me a grin,
while I'm trying to recall who is my "next of kin"

We dry off as the wind whips are wet hair,
I offer her a blanket and she takes it with care,
and I take command of the Healey anew,
I'm now driving like if I had my own pit crew.

Oh that reminds me, Sunday night Formula one,
Hill will whoop all and even show the radar gun.
Its Hill at the Silverstone Grand Prix,
Well hopefully he will at least beat a Ferrari.

We watch the shooting stars scream across the late sky,
the words buzzing while I rip off my black tie,
The conversaion turns political, religious then philosophical,
Altough those topics seem a bit serious,
I find out I reason better with mechanical bliss.

As the night finishes well past due,
its probably closer to tomorrows morning dew,
however all three of us, me, her and the sprite,
all enjoyed our evening very much all right.


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