I often follow the practice, after I write an email, of re-reading it and
deciding if the average reader could understand not only my humor, but
the experience that I was attempting to relay. Such is the nature of our
medium: that which needs to be emphasized often cannot be, and the reader
is left to make their own conclusions.
As a result of the limitations, I have sat on this letter for about 2
months. I did not, and still do not, want to send it. Ultimately, I
think that everyone on this forum needs to understand the implications
and importance contained within. If nothing in this affects you, I am
happy that you have achieved that level of humanity. Most of us, myself
included, need to take notice.
I attended the New Orleans British Car Show with high expectations. I
was looking forward to the opportunity to meet other LBC owners and share
stories. I parked my car in the parking lot, not in the show area, and
made my way to the display. At the edge of the parking lot was an older
gentleman with one of the T series MG's. I didn't realize it was his
car, but when I walked up, I exclaimed that I had never seen one in
person before. "Son", he said, "I saw you pull up. I think you deserve
a seat." He opened the door and let me, dirty shoes and all, sit in his
car.
Taking that as a providential sign of good things to come, I made my way
to the display. I tried to talk to the owner of a Sunbeam, but the owner
was too busy wiping the dust off the engine. A gentleman with a Bugeye
Sprite wouldn't answer answer my questions with anything more than a flat
'yes' or 'no'.
One man, after watching me make my way down the row of E-Types, came over
and showed me all the variations in each car. I recognized him as the
owner of the T type. He hurriedly excused himself when an announcement
was made over the PA.
I spent a good deal of time looking at the MGB's. I saw a boy about 5
years younger than me looking at a B up the line. By this time, I had
already postulated what was going on, so I admired the car next to the
one the boy was looking at.
He was trying to ask the owner some questions about his carb (it was a
Mikuni). The owner of the car was giving him the same disinterested
answers that I had gotten from other owners. Then, the boy's father
walks up and the owner begins to talk, in earnest, about the car with the
boy's father. The boy would ask a question, and the owner would tell the
answer to the boy's father, not the boy.
As I left, I passed by the old man and his wife enjoying some shade.
"Leaving already?" he asked.
He did not seem to be surprised. I think he knew that I was viewed by
many there as immature. I suppose my youthful looks indicated a
predisposition to loud stereos, lowered suspensions, and other un-british
qualities.
The truth is, I could not care at all for those things. My top only goes
up on the coldest of nights or the rainiest of days. I don't have an 800
watt stereo. I have no intention of modifying my MG from its original
stature (witness my removal of the cruise control when I was berated by a
friend for falling victim to modernization). Only one person there saw
the real me: a 24 year old British Car enthusiast.
Jim, I hope this catharsis did not offend you. I realize that New
Orleans is your home town and you will fell a natural inclination to
protect it: I understand. Allow me to say that the most offensive of
characters sported liscense plates from either Arkansas or Texas. It was
not the New Orleans crowd that had eschewed me.
The next time someone says that the next generation will grow up to
worship Miatas instead of MG needs to remember how we are treating the
next generation.
Thomas James Pokrefke, III
1970 MGB
thomas_pokrefke@juno.com
http://ocean.st.usm.edu/~pokrefke
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