back when i was younger, i just loved those old B&W movies from the late '30's to the '40's, with Errol Flynn. I can still remember some of those lines, and how clearly the good guys were good, and the bad guys bad to the bone; was always easy for me to see good and evil. I remember how sad i was seeing the Chakoti Massacre again and again, my amazement at the Mullah jumping into the pit of vipers, (suicide, how prophetic), and how pretty and trusting the heroines were. Loved that WWI movie, too, the Dawn Patrol.
So this morning, got up at O Dark Thirty, as we used to say back in my Ranger days, (Class 5, Benning, fall, '69, Evan), and gave my trusty Weimerainer a crunchy biscuit, a token for watching over the Great Stroker; she sleeps by the right front wheel, and vigorously puts her paw on any spider or cricket that dares to sneak over to my Snake. I had washed my SPF this weekend, even cleaned out the cockpit, and put up my fancy-dancy fabric top, the custom one with all the trick features. I knew it was going to be chilly.
Still being dark, i rolled my red/white stripe car out onto the driveway, craweled in, clicked up all the Simpson metal parts, hit the A'Sump, and listened to the engine
oil gallery start to gargle with my 10-40 Redline, then, pressure up, lit it off. Even with the Pro chokeless Holley HP, it is a very easy car to start. Touch the key, it fires, hot or cold.
Got gas, and as always, was frustrated at trying to find the "start" button on the fuel pump. Why does each station have to have some unique way of fueling a car; i spend more time trying to figure out how to turn the pump on that i do gassing the flip-top!!
But put in the 93 juice, and with the Valentine on the windscreen, headed across country to catch I-77 south. It was chilly and misty as the early dawn began to creep up over the pines, enough that from time to time i flicked on the heater, keeping me warm and happy, sipping my morning Diet Coke, (i actually have a cup holder!!), occasionally massaging the Tremec. After awhile, with the clacking of the sidecurtains, and the wind, i put in the ear plugs, so that just the engine sounds came to my auditory cortex. As is my custom, cruised the several rest-stops on the Interstate, blasting out and rejoining and quickly catching cars again. Set the cruise control (my right leg) to put the slender Smith's needle at 80 mph; turning about 2300 rpm, the big Stroked Windsor just throbbing contentedly, of course easing momentarily into the throttle whenever i would pull past a driver's window.
The drive south to Columbia was just beautiful. The median had just been mowed, as smooth as a golf course, here and there the groves of palm trees were nutured in the median. Never any radar alarms, just me and an occasional vehicle, all heading coastward. Having recently run the measured mile on the broken up airstrip at Maxton, (148 mph), and seeing the long long gently curving asphalt out in front of me, i just wished so much i could be on the Autobahn, and could run up to some real speed, on such a smooth surface.
Got to the VA at Columbia, had my exam, and headed home. It was warmer, so popped off the rear of the top, laid it back on itself, rolled up the window (mine rolls up, new factor SPF tops roll the rear window down), took out the sidecurtains, and after snapping it back down, headed home, Raybans on just so.
Found someone had dropped about a dozen bags of concrete on the northbound interstate, easily avoided, but i shuddered to think of hitting one at night, or riding on a 'cycle. No flapping at all, with the three bar top, with the velcro wrap on each one, once quickly blitzing up to the ton, then quickly back down to cruise, the top never flapping the least bit. Just a gentle breeze thru the open sides and the rear window.
Finally home by early afternoon, just a great day for a drive. Sat morning, i am running down to Spartenberg for a conference, then Chris and i will meet up, him in his Boxster, and we will head up to the mountains for some car photography.
For all those CC readers who spend their time arguing about "real Cobra's", i suggest you go out for a drive in your car, and quick trying to beat a dead horse. Or check out an old Errol Flynn movie.
The Dawn Patrol
Very nice
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