Hey Gang,
So, anyway...
By the time yesterday turned into yesterday evening it was nice and
cool out here... like, maybe 82 degrees at 7:30 PM when I unlimbered
Tigger to take the bi-weekly trip (relax Bob, it means a trip that
happens every other week, not a trip that switches sex weakly) to town
to attend the British Motorcar Club of Southern New Mexico's Super
Duper Scoopy's Scooper Get Together for soda pop and soft ice cream.
Anyway, considering the 101 to 110 degree temps we have been having
around here, 82 seemed really nice... particularly at 65 mph sans top.
This is a fifteen mile trip (30 mile round trip) but is mostly open
road on four lanes with the coppers all occupied elsewhere trying to
control the local firecracker hooligans who have much in common with
English football fans, so Tigger got to growl, especially when one of
those funny looking Camaros got frisky with us... got to demonstrate
just how quickly the 260 will push the little dear up to 85.
Anyway, once we arrived at Scoopy's Soft Ice Cream Emporium we parked
under the canopy because the heavy gunmetal-gray clouds had begun to
leak just the tiniest bit around the edges and we were--as previously
noted--sans top. (Janet, my lovely bride of 33 years, has begun to
ask more frequently just exactly what would be involved in getting the
cloth top which lives in her kitchen installed into Tigger where it
could, conceivably, be of some earthly use to someone.) A total of 7
cars showed for this informal event: Jag sedan with Chevy conversion,
beautiful XK140 coupe, Spit, Midgie, AH 3000, Tigger, and a Celica
(the driver of which also has a Alpine, go figger). We had 15 folks
present so we immediately empaneled ourselves as an FAC... Fireworks
Authentication Committee.
Scoopy's is about a mile from Aggie Memorial Stadium (home to New
Mexico State University's Fighting Aggies--ugly little suckers who
will fight about anything, particularly if you grab their Stetsons,
comment on their cow-crud encrusted boots, or call 'em "sissy-boy
hooligans") but we still had a pretty good view, particularly since
the above Fireworks Hooligans throughout the city were competing with
the "official" display. We schmoozed as we watched and
Authenticated... one "oooh" for a single star burst, an "oooh-OH" for
a burst with a big boomer and an "oooh uhhhhh" for a double star
burst. I am pleased to report that almost all the fireworks were
authenticated without problem... the few which failed our "maker's
marks" check just fizzled away without causing a scene except for a
Ramon Redburst, a twirling screamer which zigged and zagged wildly
across the heavens for 46.3 seconds before humping off over the Organ
Mountains in the east. (Funny thing was, once the Ramon was gone we
all knew in our hearts it was right, but nobody said nothin'...)
Anyway, along about 9:30 PM the drivers of the top-down Spit and AH
3000, which were parked outside the protective canopy awarded an
overwhelming "ooooh shhhhittttt!" to some Authentic lightning and
thunder bumpers which magically appeared bearing a profusion of rather
largish raindrops. The drivers hurried to bring their little dears
into the fold, so to speak, which promptly caused the rain to pretty
much stop.
Anyway, the XK140 Driver and I had a longish discussion about
non-opening trunks ("What are they good for? Nuthin'!") because you
doubtless remember that my trunk release went "hors d' combat" two
weeks ago, after the last Scoopy's adventure and the XK140 Driver
recently had a little can of compressed air (like for cleaning the
dust off your keyboard) explode (remember that 110 degree temp I
mentioned?) in the trunk of his '53 Studebaker hot rod (350 Chevy
power) which is shaved and decked and has electric door and trunk
releases.
Anyway, when the can exploded it did some minor structural damage
(bent a frame member!) then rocketed around inside the trunk for a
while leaving mainly a few gouges and so forth. THEN the burst can
came to rest wedged between the trunk release and trunk catch, thus
immobilizing the assembly and rendering the remote release useless. I
would tell you how the XK140 Driver eventually got into his trunk but
I am sworn to secrecy besides which I stopped paying much attention at
about that part of the story because the Alpine-Celica driver came up
to get a second and third opinion on what he felt was a questionable
red-green-gold double airburst with accompanying artillery shot. We
authenticated it...
Anyway, I knew that a few months ago the Alpine guy had EXACTLY the
same trunk problem with his 'Pine as I am having with Tigger! "How,
pray tell, did you fix it?" I asked. Well, turns out he didn't,
technically speaking, "fix" it. What he did (and does) is just fu...
"fuss" with it 'til it opens. Sigh... No help on solving my trunk
problem.
(Now, this is not to say that all y'all listers have not been of the
utmost help in solving this low tech trunk problem of mine. Some of
the suggested solutions ("go in thru the hood (top) storage area")
were, I am sure, highly practical and others were... Well, very
creative. I particularly like the one that suggested I first burp the
car, then dump in a can of octane enhancer made from soy bean oil and
"immediately elevate the car's rear end at least 4 feet or paws,
whichever comes first and shake vigorously." And then, of course,
wait for the dreaded Ford Flatulence to occur. "Even if the ensuing
'rumble and blat' does not blow open the trunk, the lingering smell
will keep you away from the trunk for months, so you won't really care
whether it could be opened or not...")
Anyway, picking a time when the little godlets of rain (yeah, we
worship the stuff out here) were furthest apart, we hopped into Tigger
and headed for home. We drove out of the light mist almost
immediately and the rest of the trip home was terrific. No stars, of
course, because of the cloud cover, but really grand, nonetheless.
(212 F both ways, for those of you who are keeping track.) I actually
drove a little less than the posted speed limits most of the way home
just to stretch out the trip...
Anyway, once home, Janet hopped out and opened the garage door for me
which indicates that I have been, once again, forgiven for having the
top in the kitchen instead of the on the car. (Electric garage door
openers are both heavily taxed and considered "devil's work" around
here.)
Anyway, as we were about to leave the garage I put my left hand on the
left side of the errant trunk, leaning my not inconsiderable bulk on
the little dear for a moment. "Heal!" I said. "Heal! HEAL!" This,
unfortunately, drove Napoleon Bonabark, my bodyguard and the Crown
Prince of Dalmatia who was locked up in the house, absolutely nuts...
BUT I also heard, beneath the dog barks and guttural growls, a deeply
resonating "click." I reached down, pushed the button and, praise
the good Lord Rootes, the trunk popped open!
Sooooo......
All of this goes to show you that procrastination is a good thing!
--Colin Cobb, Popping His Trunk Outside Las Cruces, NM, USA
B9471815 CAT # 270
PS. If I have to hear from the N-TCAC-P (Non-Tiger Content
Authentication Committee-Police) about this post, please make damned
sure it is not one of the ones involved in that board game bullshit!
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