Funny...from time to time I wonder what it must have been like to own
my car from new...before a legion of DPOs got hold of it.
I see myself buying into the gas crisis thing and choosing a '74
Spitfire as a sporty yet economical alternative to the Japanese
offerings. I picture myself cruising top down on the highway en
route to the beach, weekend away, whatever. Sitting next to me my
"passenger" is firmly belted in place. The passenger is a case of
Schaeffer party bottles. The seatbelt is required because my car
won't start otherwise. In view of the precious cargo I reason that
this is a good idea. :-)
Earlier in the day I had my car at the Triumph dealer for it's 1000
mile checkup. The car gets a clean bill of health and it's first oil
change. What I don't know yet however, is that "kid" doing the work
has been experimenting with mind altering drugs. He mistakenly fits
my Spitfire with the filter type specified for a '57 Humber Snipe.
After a time the angle of the sun becomes more favorable and I can see
two dimly lit bulbs on the dash...one is for the brakes and the other
is for the oil. My Spitfire is trying to tell me that my oil filter
is fading in the rearview but it can't communicate properly...it's
been FEDERALISED!
I do the correct thing...I panic. I take a few quick stabs at the
brake pedal and they seem to be working. The brake light continues to
glow but no matter, it's the engine I'm worried about now.
I'm still traveling pretty fast so I decide to shift to neutral and
cut the engine. I reach between my legs to find the ignition switch.
<where else would Triumph put it?> I turn the ignition switch to off
and breath a sigh of relief. That is, until I realise I've just
locked the steering.
As I move to become one with the Lincoln in the next lane I resolve to
use the brakes no matter what the damn light says. My right hand is
again groping for the insanely positioned ignition switch and finally
I find it. Now that I can steer again I pull off on the shoulder to
safety.
Sitting on the side of the road now, I decide it's time to liberate
the Schaeffers from the seat belt. While I wait for AAA, I slowly
shake my head and ask myself why I ever traded in my '65 Valiant.
Cheers!
Tom O'Malley in Southbridge Massachusetts
'74, '77 Spits
P.S. I have no idea if Humber Snipes were produced in 1957. :-)
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