In my neighborhood it was Mr. Sweet. He was on my paper route. Near the bottom
of the hill, a few blocks down the street. Mostly we used to see it in his
garage, or in his driveway. Whenever he drove by in his flat cap and
string-backed gloves we pointed and waved; he always waved back with a smile.
The kids in the neighborhood used to argue about what kind of car it was - none
of us would ever betray our ignorance by asking him, but the guesses were
pretty wild.
One day in early spring I was delivering his paper and he had it out in the
driveway, cleaning the wheels I think. I was about ten. He could tell I was
fascinated by his car so he started to tell me about it. I was fascinated by
the chunky chrome and the flat dashboard with the swoopy top. He told me to hop
in if I wanted to. I was afraid to touch anything because I didn't want to
smudge newspaper ink on it. It was the first time I ever sat in an MG. It was a
pale primrose TD. I don't remember if I ever thanked Mr. Sweet, but I never
forgot it.
Phil Vanner
Mk1 Midget
On Saturday, February 26, 2000 2:43 PM, James Algar [SMTP:algar@smartlink.net]
wrote:
> I just have to share this with the list...but be warned; for those of us
> in a certain demographic, this will be hard to take.
>
> With my wife's car in the shop, she's been driving mine, so my '69
> Sprite has once again become my daily driver, after a looong time hidden
> in the garage (so it's not exactly been a common sight on the streets of
> my neighborhood.)
>
> (A little background here: I bought the car brand-new in 1969. The car
> was new, I was young - 22 years old - and the world was at my feet, with
> all things possible. Enter the millennium, so doing the math will tell
> you that I'm now a 53-year-old driving a 31-year-old car.)
>
> Back to my story. As I was pulling out of my cul-de-sac, I noticed a
> group of the neighbors from the next block over gathered across the
> street..you know, just hanging out. They were all ages; kids, teens, and
> a couple of suburban moms in their thirties. Suddenly, a strange thing
> happens: they're smiling, and pointing at me, and nodding their heads
> with big grins and...waving? Yes, waving! I wave back without thinking
> and continue on down the street with all the speed that 1275cc can
> muster.
>
> And then it hits me...light a bolt of lightning...like a ton of
> bricks...like a knot of ice in my stomach. It's happened: I've
> become...I've become...(I can't say this)...THE OLD GUY DOWN THE STREET
> WITH THE FUNNY OLD CAR!
>
> Remember? Sure you do; we all had one living somewhere near us when we
> were growing up. For my generation, it was some nice old harmless guy
> who'd kept that old Model T or Model A, and could be seen in his
> driveway every once in a while washing it, or even more rarely might be
> spotted *driving* it!
>
> But now...AAAAAAARRGGGHHHH...I'm HIM!
>
> I gotta go now...I need a stiff drink. And none of your frou-frou yuppie
> drinks, bartender; just make it a gin and tonic. In fact...make it a
> double.
>
> Jim Algar (born 1947)
> '69 Sprite Mk.IV (built 12-68)
> Tempus fugit
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