Sunday, January 18, 2009

Racing The Clock ...and The Calendar.

One sign of a "mid-life crisis" often is a shiny Sports car.

I got mine when I was in my twenties.

It was a British import, much-loved (especially by my mechanic) and a young lady I eventually married, was pretty impressed by my low slung 2-seater with wire-spoked wheels.

The first child meant getting a station wagon so bye-bye Triumph TR-3.

Of course, we now drove a nice sensible little Ford station wagon and our growing family really did need more than 2 leather bucket seats, but a first Sports car is sort of like your first love. Mostly fond memories.

Well, the British-trained mechanic HAD insisted on changing the oil every 1,000 miles.

Jump forward through several marriages, divorces and moves to various cities and states and here I am back in Charleston.

Driving one afternoon in Mt. Pleasant I see a beautifully-restored Triumph in a parking lot.

I slip my card under the windscreen wiper asking the owner to call me.

A few days before Christmas, we met. He let me pose beside it and even sit in it.

It was a VERY snug fit.

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2 Comments:

At Sat Jan 24, 02:52:00 PM , Blogger Southern Diva said...

OHMIGOODNESS- I love your pics. My favorite uncle had a Triumph TR 7. He would drive me around with the top down. Of course, years later a woman he was cheating on would set it on fire, but that is neither here nor there. Thanks for the flashback!

 
At Wed Feb 25, 08:54:00 AM , Blogger chucker said...

Well, wait a minute, was he IN the car when it was set afire?

 

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