Folks here is a fun story I found on a Spitfire site, I thought it would wake
up a few brain cells laying dormant from the winter freeze...
--
Mitch D. Johnson
Governor General
This article is from a "Women's magazine" that was passed on to me by the wife
of a friend. Note I edited some content to condense it.
The snow has finally melted and my husband Tony, is ritualistically dusting off
his red 1965 Triumph (Spitfire ed.) and peeling back the convertible roof. (For
those who haven't had the pleasure, the Triumph is a British sports car that is
designed to break down often, presumably so it's owner can tinker with it.)
"It's really pretty out" he urges, "Let's go somewhere."
I hesitate. Am I up for this? I'm thinking of our last little day trip, a trek
to the mountains. At the top of a steep hill the Triumph came to a dead halt
and wouldn't start up again. As a result, we had to coast, motor less, down
hill (no power brakes) and careen into a gas station. Fortunately, there
happened to be a mechanic who promised to fix the car by morning - and, next
door, a cozy inn owned by a French family that served delicious crepes. So our
mishap turned unexpectedly into a charming overnight getaway.
The next memory was of a sojourn into a dry lake bed that necessitated several
hours of hot sweaty labor to get back to macadam. There in the middle of the
pavement were two perfect oranges that mysteriously appeared. Eating those cool
juicy oranges was exhilarating!
Then in Spain there was the shortcut thru the olive orchard. Deep in the
orchard some protruding rocks ripped the oil pan from the engine. Looking in to
a deserted workers lodging and being confronted by a pack of wild dogs as dusk
fell did not bode well. Some locals who were transporting a goat
unceremoniously dropped us off at a grimy roadside tavern. The tavern owner
took us on a tour of the country side while our car was being fixed. His wife
fixed us scrambled eggs in olive oil. The following year the tavern owner's
daughter visited us in New York. This side trip ended up being the most
memorable part of our vacation.
These vivid memories are flipping through my mind as I observe Tony standing
there with his car keys in hand. Part of me wants to get in our reliable late
model car and to go somewhere safe and sensible - the mall, maybe - via a paved
road. Then I look from the Triumph with it's top down to Tony's hopeful face. I
head for the Triumph/
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