I can just see the headlines now...."Second hand Smoke reaches Winnipeg and
Stones Local TR owner..."
...with no discredit to our snowboarders even I knew that hanging around with a
bunch of hopheads might produce such a drug test. I however, have no such
excuse. I was just plain stupid.
My crime? My slightly larger than life "id", overpowering the two egos,
decided driving to the TDC meeting in a T (the GT6 in this case) - IN FEBRUARY
- might be kinda neat. After all, we have virtually no snow, the roads are
as clean as they are in early April, and it's only slightly below freezing.
In short, the same weather I drive in by late October some years. It also
didn't help that, since TR insurance rates rise by around 40 percent this
spring and plating the car now escapes that happening to me, I had put a plate
on the car all legal like. Good thing.
I put 23 miles on my car last night. I drove 21 and a half of them.
An absence of over 4 months jogged my memory of several minor problems with the
car:
- it has no heater at present.
- the clutch slave leaks like a sieve.
- the koni suspension is set, now seized frozen, on "use kidney belt, nomex,
and helmet"
- the alternator is prone to fits of Lucasism.
- there are no choke cables so there are no chokes.
Did this stop me? Noooooooooooo. Now I wish it had.
The trip out was pure heaven. It wasn't really that cold in the cabin and the
baritone growl of a torquey 6 cylinder not often heard in the winter again made
my blood boil. This was great! The meeting went well, and for some strange
reason I chose not to stay late and quaff a few "extra" beverages. Good thing.
On the way home, Mr. Lucas struck via the alternator. The little red light
on the speedo announced it's presence.
This was bad. In my haste I had simply thrown the battery in the car and
popped the terminals on loosely. I neglected to realise the importance of one
seemingly minor detail.... I had loaned this battery out to an ice racer (and
fellow TDC member) who used it because HIS alternator didn't work either.
Suffice it to say I had 20 miles o' charge when I set out.
Next scene, the foot of the Norwood bridge. All the hydraulic fluid now in
places other than the system (see list above) I was forced to kill the motor to
select any gear. Any guesses as to the interest of the starter at this
request? Dead as a doornail. Moments pased with an unsuccessful attempt at
push starting uphill. Then along came one of those "it's gotta be undercover
cops" Crown Vic's. And it was.
They stared, hesitated, and I approached. Could I avail you gentlemen for a
push start?". "Not with this car, we'd get in deep shit" the younder one
(snowboard drug squad maybe?) said. "No, no, we can push it by hand, it's
light, I just can't quite do it myself". "Has it got a V8" and some other
silly questions were asked as one of them casually looked down at the plate to
see if it REALLY had a valid sticker. After all, who drives these things in
the winter? They were friendly and helpful but I can't help wondering how the
conversation might have gone if I had, say, stayed until midnight for a few
bubblies and run into them then.
Again on my way, I now prayed I had sufficient juice to make the 3 miles home.
I chose the residential corridors just in case the fuel pump (electric) called
my attention to a distinct lack of voltage. It turns out it was the big ass
Accel Super Coil that pulled the pin. With credit to it and the Facet fuel
pump, there was now not enough juice to even see the gauges, never mind light
the lights.
Pushing again. Good thing this thing is light. Only a mile and a bit to go.
Then a good samaritan in a shiny new Audi stopped and gave a hand while his
wife drovealongside. Apparently, neither new Audi owners nor Stupid Triumph
drivers need carry a tow rope in the dead of winter. Nor do we keep in as good
shape as we should. Huff Huff. And before anyone calls me on not having a
cell phone and AAA, I had both. Remember that ego thing at the top of this
story?
Twenty minues later, heart attempting to pound its way out of my chest, red
faced and beat tired, AGT 669 was home thanks to 2 cops, Friendly Manitobans,
and a dumb ass owner too stupid to know what's good for him. Friday the 13th
came a bit early.
Top that.
Dave (I'll remember this one for a while) Terrick
Winnipeg
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