I’m back! I‘m back from a marvelous adventure, “One Morgan Across
England”. I’m back from a wonderful trip to Mog 20000, just Judy,
Squeaky and I. I thought I’d tell you all about the trip in a series
of E-mails entitled “Mog 2000 Adventure”. If you have no interest in
my story please feel free to delete the messages with that subject line.
But first, a big “Thank You” to Quentin English, his wife Ann and all
the members of the HOPMOG Club for Mog 2000. It was the Mog to start a
new century.
My story begins before Mog 2000, however. It begins at the Washington
DC Club’s Mog 30; on the 4th of July weekend in the Pocono Mountains of
Pennsylvania. That’s where Roger Moran first showed this newly acquired
‘66 Drophead Coupe. It was beautiful, and it won the “Best Of Show”
award at Mog 30. Roger was on his way to take his new car home to
Europe, and after visiting a few friends, he drove the car to
Baltimore’s port for shipping to Southampton, on the very same boat I
planned to send Squeaky over on. Because of his travel plans, Roger and
his shiny black machine arrived at the port a week the ship was
scheduled to ship. I, of course, waited till the last minute to part
with Squeaky.
When I arrived at the Baltimore terminal I was greeted with, “Morgan,
I haven’t seen one in twenty year, now it’s two in one week”. “I know
what that is. It’s one of those Morgans.” One old dockhand asked, “Are
all the Morgans leaving the country?” I assured him there was no factory
recall.
We dropped Squeaky off at a lonely dockside parking lot for her
three-week trip to the UK. And, I have to admit that the three weeks
without my Morgan was the hardest part of the adventure. I’m used to
driving her or working on her some every week. So, I sat in a lawn
chair in the garage. I just sat there and remembered. While sitting
there I remembered the evening that over a bottle of cheep California
wine, Lonre Goldman and I discussed plans to attend Mog 2000 in
Canterbury England. We planned for a 3000-mile trip of car, family and
very little luggage. But, where was Lorne now. He changed his mind and
was still driving around in his sleek +8.
Time passed and on August the 9th Judy and I were off to the airport.
Well not exactly off, when we arrived at the airport, we waited in line
for 45 minutes only to find that all flights had been canceled because
of heavy thunderstorms in the Baltimore area. So, the airlines put us
in a cab to Philadelphia airport. We spent the first 90 minutes of our
trip in the back seat of a Chevy, on I 95. Our driver put us at easy by
explaining in detail the Russian music he loved so much. But, shortly
we were off from Philadelphia, off to our great adventure, and we spent
the first night in the air over the Atlantic. I tried to sleep, but it
seemed that everyone on the plane tried to keep me awake.
We arrived at Gatwick airport, just outside of London, on the morning
of August 10th. And, there just on the other side of customs were two
people holding a Mog 2000 sign, Ann and Quentin English. They helped
with our luggage, then volunteered to drive us to Southampton, a
two-hour drive, where Squeaky was waiting. Quentin and Ann helped us
locate and retrieve Squeaky, loaded us put. Quentin had to have a ride
in Squeaky, I don’t think he had been in a Drophead Coupe before. They
gave us advice on driving in England, pointed us in the right direction,
and sent us on our way. Now that was real Southern English Hospitality.
First, some discussion about driving in Great Britain is needed for
those of us in the United States. Great Britain is an island of 88,619
square miles, about the size of a medium state in the US. However, the
population of Great Britain is 58.5 million, about as many people as
live in California. So, driving on the island is like everyone in
California driving in the San Francisco Valley, on the wrong side of the
road, but politely. Great Britain roads are divided into categories.
There are Motorways, like our highways. There are “A” roads, double
carriageways ideal for Morgans, they pass though the countryside and
town centers. There are “B” roads, often single carriageways, and
country roads, and there are others, on which you take your chances.
The British sense of humor is a single carriageway “B” road with
ten-foot hedges on each side, on shoulders, and no speed limit. The
Brits don’t believe in straight roads. Every road has its bends, and if
there is a straight section they but a roundabout in the middle to
reduce the monotony, even on the Motorways. They also don’t believe in
stop light. I was told that Lucas made the original English traffic
lights. So, in England we have left hand roundabouts at every
intersection, but they are a subject for another paper.
There are some rules of English drive that Americas should note.
First, always stay left. Don’t park where there is a double yellow
line, and since the Traffic Control Officer has a yellow line on his
hat, you can’t park on his head. Always count the number of exits on
a round-about. You can get very dizzy after several times around.
Asking direction from the English is like asking directions from a
Georgia county boy, “Just down the road a ways and turn right at the
third bend.” No matter what the map said follow the signs. Learn the
name of every town in England so you can follow the signs. And, always
stay left.
But, back to our trip, after getting organized we said goodbye to Ann
and Quentin and headed for Milford-on-Sea. We drove up to a beautiful
Bed and Breakfast on the South Central coast of England over looking the
Isle of Wight. The owners were so happy to see a Morgan that they moved
the Rolls Royce so we could park out front. Squeaky looked at home at
this luxurious house built in 1897. This house is still vibrant after
100 years, with lavish wood panels and stained glass windows. From the
room you could see sail boats bobbing past the Isle of Wight, and trees
bowed by the constant off shore winds. We enjoyed a wonderful dinner,
and a long walk along the beach. We began to relax after a hectic
twenty four hours.
To be continued.
Ed.
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