The prototypical post war British sports car must have been designed for
former RAF fighter pilots - smallish, wiry, rugged survivors accustomed to
being in cramped uncomfortable places and just glad to be alive and on the
ground.
For decades I thought I wanted an E-type. A recent drive in a 1970 E-type
convertible has cured me forever. My eyes, which already dry out easier than
they used to, are just about even with the top of the windscreen, and my size
11d foot can't hit the go pedal without also brushing the stop pedal. I still
think it has a beautiful shape, but the bedpan analogy fits when ingress and
egress is attempted.
Cheers,
Jack Mc
Sent from my iPad
On Nov 29, 2012, at 4:35 AM, John Macartney <flywheelcoventry1@yahoo.co.uk>
wrote:
> The thing for me is the realisation that many of my former friends in
> Engineering were little more than sadists. They completely overlooked the
fact
> that many among us down the years have been youthful in heart, though much
> longer in the tooth. Waking each day as I do with aching joints and perhaps
a
> little too much 'circumferentially' - I especially curse all TR Spitfire,
GT6,
> and certainly curse Little and large Healeys, Morris Garages variants and
> those things from Jaguar that look like a flying bedpan.
> It's not that I'm
> jealous but simply because whenever I have the opportunity to ride in or
drive
> a sports car, it's raining and the hood is erected. It's bad enough getting
in
> - but getting out is hell on earth.
>
> Jonmac
>
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