Dennis Barr wrote:
>
> In 1960, I was attending the University of Oregon and kind of hung out
> at Shepard Motors in Eugene. They handled DB's Healeys and of course
> Triumphs. One of the salesmen felt sorry for this poor country kid from
> the hills of southern Oregon and one Saturday gave me a "test" ride in a
> TR3. I remember feeling that NO car could go around a curve at the
> speeds he drove and stay on the road. It did ! I have never forgotton
> that Saturday morning. Later I found out that this particular saleperson
I had a somewhat different experience. I was trapped in the mountains of
Oahu, at Schofield Barracks, without any transportation but a single bus
that made one run from Honolulu at 7 am, left for Honolulu at 6 pm, and
returned around 11 pm. So, it was a little difficult to get up to the
North Shore for some sun and ocean, and it was generally hard to get
around anywhere. Shortly after my 21st birthday, I started looking for a
car, something befitting the climate, and thought a convertible would be
nice. Just accidently ran across a `63 Spit4 in a used car lot. Signal
Red, badly kept, but serviceable. Drove the car for two years in Hawaii,
made rank high enough to bring it back to the mainland two days before
the ship sailed, so it was waiting for me in Oakland when I got out of
the army. And, foolhardy, immediately embarked cross-country in the
thing.
Still remember how it felt driving through the mountains in Arizona, at
4 am, little 1147cc sewing machine humming, and try not to remember the
nasty burning smell of the hub spinning on the shaft after the key
sheared in those mountain curves. Remember the great guy at a franchise
Continental engine shop in Gallup, NM, who was the only one in town
willing to work on that furrin' car. Try not to remember that it turned
ass for front end on a mountain switchback on Mt. Tantalus in Hawaii,
leaving me to contemplate physics all the while I was heading for an
800-ft drop. <g> Still remember waking to laughter at a rest stop in
Oklahoma as the occupants of passing cars saw me (6'4" tall) asleep in
the Spitfire, a blanket over the park brake handle, head on the driver's
seat, legs hanging out against the outside of the passenger door.
When that car was destroyed, I guess I'd gotten the bug. Because a year
later, I found a `62 TR4 (Signal Red, again, I should know better) with
wire wheels, that I drove throughout my last three years of college and
graduate school, and up until the time it was destroyed. Even in winter
in upper Michigan... hey, 165/15 radial snows for VWs do wonders in the
deep drifts.... <g> I will also mention that I was an early member of
the VTR (1976-77) because of that car.
Long hiatus, then. Almost twenty years without a Triumph, and then, I
bought a GT6 basket case from a guy in Albuquerque who'd taken the car
apart, had double-bypass surgery, and was told not to lift anything over
fifteen pounds. Took the car home, thought about just putting it back
together, and got a bad case of shipwright's disease, and as they say in
industry, it's still under development. <g> Had to buy another GT6 just
to knock around in. About the itch for the GT6... I was at Tripler
Hospital in Honolulu in 1970, for my physical to leave the army, and as
I was leaving, I saw an absolute knock-out of a nurse get into a
primrose GT6 and just blast out of the parking lot in high dudgeon.
Despite being an average young male, I think I noticed the car more than
I did her.... Some things stay with one.
Hey, when I get the shop built, does anyone know of a Mayflower or a
Gloria in need of a home? <g>
Cheers.
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