Hello spitters,
hello friends,
I thought I'd share this one with you. Many of you have been following the
resurrection of my spit over the past fall and winter month, and I'm beyond
"happy" to report that I've finally driven my car for the first time.
We are testing the engine. The SU carbs are giving us problems in adjusting,
we are lacking vacuum and seem to be sucking in air through the EC valve.
Wilf tells me, "drive to the end of the driveway, see how she runs, the gate
is open, turn around there and come back, I'll take a picture while you're
in your Spit. Hmm.... I'm thinking, a picture sounds good, as I'm usually
never on photos. I get in the Spit, I drive to the end, I see the open road,
there is a whole new world out there waiting for me.
Wilf is trying to adjust the camera, I'm thinking, let's see what this feels
like. I step on the gas, and off I go, leaving him standing with his mouth
wide open, in a cloud of dust. I have to point out, that I have no license
plate, I have no ID, I'm sitting on the only seat that's not even properly
bolted down, I have no interior, speak transmission cover, so the open
gravel road is running underneath me, throwing up dust and gravel. The drive
shaft beside me is cranking wildly, the transmission, in it's naked glory,
is crackling along. The roll bar is not bolted down and is flapping
annoyingly behind my seat. The clutch is not properly adjusted. But, the
engine seems to appreciate the attention and is co-operating.
To the roar of the mighty new exhaust, Im driving over the hill, I'm now out
of visibility of my worried husband. His wife's on the lose again, and out
of control. What he doesn't know is, that I'm pulling into my friend Val's
drive, where I attempt to alert everyone, and try to blow the horn, only to
remember that the steering wheel is not fully assembled either, therefore
no button for the horn. So, instead, I rev the engine up a bit, let the
exhaust do the talking. Nobody's home. I reverse back out to find out that
the shifter knob has come off in my hands. I shift with the bare stick, let
the wind blow wildly in my face. This is what I've been waiting for since
last fall. It's the reward for many uncounted hours of work.
Somewhere in the distance I see the lonely figure of my husband searching
the horizon for his missing wife. She's approaching the scene with a grin on
her face. He never even gets the chance of clicking the camera, because she
casts swiftly by him into the drive, having just finished her first short
outing in the Spit and loving it.........
He's afraid that he won't get to drive the Spitfire very often. She's afraid
he's right.........
Liv
67 Spit
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