My first car was a 65 MG Midget. It was minus a left front
fender, minus a top, minus rings in the engine, minus
syncros in the tranny, and minus brains in the owner. It
leaked more oil than it used in gas, but I could always find
my way home by following the strip of oil it left.
When I finally pulled the engine and tranny, I found that
*EVERY* ring was broken and all the syncros (baulk rings)
were also broken. Your probably thinking this guy was an
idiot to buy this car, but I traded an equally sick Suzuki
motorcycle for it.
Anyway, for my dumb stunt. I drove this car back and forth
to school. Thinking I was cool in my British Sports Car, I
passed by the absolute best looking girl in the entire
school (shes a model these days). So Mister Cool (that's
me) asks if should would like a ride home. I don't know why
she accepted, maybe she felt sorry for me sitting in this
garbage can. This gal was about six foot so it took her
awhile to get into the car. What I forgot is that I never
bolted the passenger seat down. By the time we got to her
house, she was packed in under the foot well. After about
ten minutes of struggling to get her out, she looked at me
with a look of utter disdain and never spoke to me again.
The funny part is a year later she was going out with a guy
who lived up the street from me, and one day she drove down
the street in a #1 condition MGB-GT. I wonder what Freud
would say about this.
Nelson.
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