Colour trade test transmissions
I've just been watching a splendid film in which Ian Curtis rebuilds a bull-nose Morris, aided by a beatnik child. Meanwhile Zefram Cochran, disguised as a rag and bone man, attempts to steal some of the parts in an odd kind of cross-dimensional scrap redistribution plan. At the climax of the piece, Ian drives the newly restored Morris to the local garage, where, in a triumph of sensible tweed sports-jacket over badly-piloted Austin Healey, he cops off with the young woman driving the office typewriter.
Obviously, had the film been made twenty years later, the Morris would have ended up lowered and fitted with a blown small-block at one end and a Jag IRS at the other.
Mind, 1964 looks like a reasonable sort of place to holiday.
Obviously, had the film been made twenty years later, the Morris would have ended up lowered and fitted with a blown small-block at one end and a Jag IRS at the other.
Mind, 1964 looks like a reasonable sort of place to holiday.