[Hal Copple]

It was time.

My practice partner picked me up at 0730 in his drop-top C5. I told him if we went up to the Olthoff's, about 70 miles, with the top up, passerby would think us wimps. Doug said that since it was then 26 degrees, and he had forgot his gloves, we would trip up, top up. C5's are nice, but really really broad cars.

Got to the Olthoffs; Dennis was opening up shop, his yellow lab was with him. The biggest lab i have ever seen, makes Rin Tin Tin look like a Taco dog. Anyway, the Great Stroker was there, the new chrome full-width rollbar looked great, set off by the new yellow hash marks on the driver's front wing. Lots of other tweaks and tunes, it has been up there for a month, being massaged and modified for me.

Doug left in his 'Vette, so i slipped into my long johns, put on the trusty Navy G1, slipped into the Simpson goggles, slapped the Valentine on the windscreen, and swung southeast, heading to the coast. By then the sun was up, but it was still just about freezing at most. I slowly got colder and colder, such that the blood flowing thru my marrow got all viscous, and seemed to want to clot or something. I longed for winter-weight blood. I began to shake and shivver, but i pressed on, down I-77, then to I-26. As always, cruised every interstate rest stop, but this time, i went into each one, and warmed my hands under the mens room hand driers. They were numb. I wanted to thaw out some other parts too, but there were too many other chaps in there for that. At one stop, two older men, noting my license plate NAM VET, asked if the two new fender hash marks meant i had been a corporal. I kindly told them they were just a racing decoration, omitting the fact i retired as a full colonel.

Rolled into Charleston about 1:30, and then idled thru the tiny streets, thronged with tourists and others, helping our SC economy. Dennis tweaked my exhaust so the Stroked Windsor is loud and crisp, each exhaust pulsation reverberating off the historic walls and shops. Parked, and went into a brewery, as i was pretty dehydrated, and sucked down a brown ale, and a pizza. I kept holding each warm slice in my numb hands until the cheese congealed, then wolfed that piece down.

Was fun to see so many people take pictures of my red/white stripe car, so nicely accented with the "rookie stripes". Everytime i saw a police, i let my SPF coast, hoping to escape a noise violation. Shopped a bit, then put on all my layers, and headed home, into the chilling upstate freezing temp.

Evan would have loved meeting the quaint English gent, who told me that if it wasn't made of aluminum, and in Britain, it was not nearly as good as "a real English Cobra."

Got home, jumped into a hot tub, and finally thawed out.

So made it back, hoping that a night under the Down will thin out my viscous blood. Y'all need to get out and drive your replicas.

It really is good to have my car back. Even Abby, my trusty Weimerainer, who guards it in the garage every night, was happy to hear it roll up.