An Adventurous Evening
Well, maybe not adventurous, but definitely a stinking cool one.
VJ and I trekked out to my parents' house this evening to spend some time with them and the Boy. At one point, I decided to walk across the street and have a chat with Duane, my dad's neighboor, and bonafide gear head, like me. He's an older man, in his sixties, and 100% cool to hang out with. We can talk cars for hours. I needed to ask him if I could use one of his car trailers to tow my Alfa Romeo from my dad's house to mine in order to begin restoration.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love cars, especially 1950s - 60s era European cars. Duane happens to have an inky black -- and by "black" I mean effin' Black -- 1966 Jaguar E-Type coupe, in such a pristine state it makes an autophile drool. If that weren't drooly enough, he has also replaced the stock straight-six with the 300-hp Jaguar racing version of that motor.
At one point I mentioned to Duane that VJ has a thing for sixties Jags, and I asked if it was okay if I showed his machine to her. He handed me the keys and told me to take her out in it. Holy shit, I couldn't believe my fortune. I spent about an hour whipping this Jag all over the twisties in and around Bergheim, and loving every second of this thrill ride. The sounds and smells of this fine machine were simply amazing. I must have one. I must. I must... Make more money.
I never thought I would drive a car that would make my GTI seem like I was driving a bowl full of wet noodles, but I seem to have done so. I can't get the Jag out of my head. The whole way home I was trying my best to pretend I was still piloting that amazing machine. Big sigh. Big, big, sigh. She could be mine, for only 25-large. Now to find 25-large. Riiiight. Let's pay the mortgage first.
I've photograped the car before... Let me see if I can find that CD-R...
Okay, I found it. Here she is:
Swoon.
VJ and I trekked out to my parents' house this evening to spend some time with them and the Boy. At one point, I decided to walk across the street and have a chat with Duane, my dad's neighboor, and bonafide gear head, like me. He's an older man, in his sixties, and 100% cool to hang out with. We can talk cars for hours. I needed to ask him if I could use one of his car trailers to tow my Alfa Romeo from my dad's house to mine in order to begin restoration.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love cars, especially 1950s - 60s era European cars. Duane happens to have an inky black -- and by "black" I mean effin' Black -- 1966 Jaguar E-Type coupe, in such a pristine state it makes an autophile drool. If that weren't drooly enough, he has also replaced the stock straight-six with the 300-hp Jaguar racing version of that motor.
At one point I mentioned to Duane that VJ has a thing for sixties Jags, and I asked if it was okay if I showed his machine to her. He handed me the keys and told me to take her out in it. Holy shit, I couldn't believe my fortune. I spent about an hour whipping this Jag all over the twisties in and around Bergheim, and loving every second of this thrill ride. The sounds and smells of this fine machine were simply amazing. I must have one. I must. I must... Make more money.
I never thought I would drive a car that would make my GTI seem like I was driving a bowl full of wet noodles, but I seem to have done so. I can't get the Jag out of my head. The whole way home I was trying my best to pretend I was still piloting that amazing machine. Big sigh. Big, big, sigh. She could be mine, for only 25-large. Now to find 25-large. Riiiight. Let's pay the mortgage first.
I've photograped the car before... Let me see if I can find that CD-R...
Okay, I found it. Here she is:
Swoon.