Greetings All,
While I'm saving most of my Spitfire and car stories for a writing career when
I pull back from my photography career, I do need to address the wives,
mothers, and others who are wary of Spitfire safety.
My parents always cautioned about convertibles, small cars, and powerful cars.
MY WIFE STILL DOES! 18 years ago I was driving a Buick LeSabre. I was dating
a recent college graduate a few years my junior who proceeded to tell me on
New Year's Eve that life with me would be boring. Well, a guy can take a
hint. Even though I wasn't crushed by her appraisal, appropriate action
needed to be taken. January 1, 1981 I began my search. It had to be a
convertible and something sporty.
Jaguars had always been my favorites, but a nice roadster was $10,000 and I
was making payments on my boring house and boring business. The ad appeared
for my little Spit. I borrowed $1000 from my parents and $700 from one of my
boring friends and the 73 Pimento Spit was mine. Though not as soft, the
curves on the spit took my mind off the other curves.
It had 60,000 miles on the ticker and needed a general rebuilding. My goal
was to have it ready for a cross country trip to Seattle by September 1982.
On 9/12/82 I left Springfield, Illinois at 9PM and returned home 2 weeks and
7100 miles later, including a nonstop from Lava Hot Springs, Idaho to
Springfield, exactly 1500 miles.
Boring, boring, boring(!) A week later I drove it to 2 World Series games in
St. Louis and parked in on the landing under the Gateway arch with 2 wheels in
the Mississippi each night. Yes, boredom had truly set in.
So boring was 1982 I decided to forego female companionship for New Year's Eve
and drive to Pere Marquette State Park, 90 miles south, and photograph the
last sunset of a truly wonderful year. Pere Marquette hangs out over the
Mississippi River on bluffs held sacred by native and current Americans. You
look directly west into the largest winter sunset of the year, and yes, quite
often a bald eagle or magnificent osprey will punctuate the sky. Sunsets are
early in December, affording me ample time to return to Springfield to sing in
the boring church choir. We always have a special New Year's Eve service
where the steeple bell is tolled as the name of each departed soul is read.
I was traveling north about 80mph on US 67 toward Jacksonville as I passed a
weaving "pididle" car (one headlight out). You want to stay away from drunk
drivers, especially on New Year's Eve. After a few minutes I came upon a
white camaro waiting to make a left hand turn across traffic on this 2-lane
highway. Traffic must have been letting out from some event in the next town,
as a steady stream of vehicle kept the camero from turning. The shoulder
looked pretty rough and potholed, so I waited. In my rear view mirror I saw
the pididle coming. I honked at the camaro to move, but the only response was
a single digit salute. The pididle kept coming and coming and not slowing
down.
I can still hear the crash and the screams 17 years later as my wonderful
little Spitfire with the 12 ft turning radius pulled around the camaro. Yes,
I was without a scratch. The camaro's trunk was in the back seat along with
the passengers. I radioed for help on my CB (you didn't think I crossed the
country solo in a Triumph without some security, did you?) The four occupants
of the camaro had multiple injuries, but nothing life threatening, as they had
started to move before they were hit.
My Boy Scout first aid was finally put to use. The drunks in the pididle were
laughing even though their faces were bloody from hitting the windshield.
They were to drunk to care. I helped stop their bleeding and convinced the
two males from the camero not to stop the drunks laughing--and breathing. It
was less than 5 minutes before State Police, County Police, and ambulances
arrived on the scene. Handcuffs stopped the drunks laughing. It took longer
than I expected to give my account of the accident to the authorities. I was
late for church. I arrived as the last name was read and the last bell
tolled. Because of God's will and Almighty Power, and the turning radius of
my little Spitfire, the bell did not toll for me.
17 years later it still hasn't tolled and I have several other stories of the
Spitfire's manuverabilities and God's will. Suffice it to say, every car has
it's weak points and strong points. Drive defensively, keep you eyes open,
and enjoy God's blessings.
Bill Brockschmidt
Springfield, IL
2 1973 Spitfires
1 1977 Spit
1965 Jaguar S-type
1973 455 Buick Centurion Convertible
1998 Buick Park Avenue
1994 Plymouth GrandVoyager
1948 Radio Flyer
|