Another Look

Many moons back, I set up a scenario wherein you were going to drive around Italy with a beautiful woman, in a beautiful car.  (For those of shorter memory, or who missed it, here’s the premise.)

So here’s another one, closer to home.  The route I’ve chosen looks like this:  east-west along U.S. Highway 50, then a cut south before Cinci and Lexington (because ugh), then westward eastward along U.S. Route 70 to the Atlantic.  Starting point is Winchester VA (red dot #1) and the finishing point is wherever Dot #2 is, on the coast.

I’ve done the U.S. 50 bit myself before, and it’s beautiful.  I’ve done a little bit of U.S. 70 (from Nashville to Charlotte), and it’s also lovely. The road is twisty, the atmosphere romantic, and the scenery beautiful — from open fields to forested mountain passes.

The whole trip should take about 5-6 days, about 7 nights — because this isn’t a race.

So here are the choices (and remember, no switching around;  the choices are as set down), and the women are as pictured, not how they would look today.  And yes, assume a little romance along the way.

Choice #1:  1965 AC Cobra and Dita Von Teese

 

Choice #2:  1965 Shelby Mustang and Kelly Brook

 

Choice #3:  1956 T-bird and Lynda Carter

 

Choice #4:  1961 E-type and Liz Hurley:

 

Choice #5:  1959 Mercedes 190 SL and Laura Linney

 

Choice #6:  1965 Ferrari 275 GTB-4 Spider and Amy Adams

Your choice in Comments;  I’ll tell you mine tomorrow.

Have Mercy

It’s not often that one sees something of such beauty, such an exquisite heritage and all the things that givee petrol-heads / piston-heads a headache, and an overwhelming desire to possess.

Well then, how about this 1951 Maserati A6G/2000 AC Frua Spyder:

 

Here’s the whole story of the car;  and yes, forget the price, as you would for an original Monet painting.  Rather, just marvel at the artistry.

Of All, Only This One

When you think of all the Lamborghini models ever released, the ones that probably come to mind quickest are the Miura:

…the Countach:

…or if you’re one of those Readers of more recent vintage, the Murciélago:

…or the Aventador:

It will probably come as no surprise to anyone that I wouldn’t touch any of the above with Bill Clinton’s dick.  (No comments on that topic, please, this is a serious automotive post.)

No, the only Lambo I would ever consider owning — and that only after Iain Tyrrell had worked his magic, re-tuning and rehabbing it — is the early-60s model 350 GT, with its 3.5-liter V12 engine:

Now, my children… if you are unfamiliar with the design expression “half a teardrop”, follow me to Mr. Tyrrell’s Workshop and let him explain, in just over half an hour, what that means; and along the way, you may just start to agree with me.

No electronic gizmos, no nanny warning noises, no rev limiters, double-clutch automatic gearboxes or any of that modern folderol;  just a car that one can enjoy driving, in the truest sense of the word.  With Mr. Tyrrell babying it for me on an annual basis, it is unquestionably the car I could drive for the rest of my life.

RFI: Jeep Wagoneer

When I first came over to the U.S., I went to the Chicago Auto Show and just for the hell of it, sat in a Jeep Wagoneer (not the Grand Wagoneer, the smaller one).  It looked exactly like this one:

Immediately I sat in it, I thought, “This is a nice, comfortable car, and I wouldn’t mind owning one.”  For the record, it is one of the few cars I’ve ever felt that strongly about at first seating, so to speak.

I couldn’t afford it new, of course, because I was just starting to rebuild my career pretty much from scratch and hadn’t the funds even for a down payment.

A year later, however, I did have the opportunity to buy one.  One of the execs at the Great Big Research Company was being moved to France permanently, and he needed to sell his Wagoneer.  He was the original owner, and the thing only had about 4,000 miles on it.  Even better was that he didn’t want a lot for it — and I’d scrimped and saved enough for a deposit, and built my credit score up enough for the bank to okay a loan for the balance.

So like a good husband I went home and bounced the idea off the (then-) Mrs., and was shot down in flames because “that tank gets crap gas mileage.”  (I should point out that I lived three miles from the office, and my longest drive would be to the airport.)

Anyway, I never did get the Wagoneer, and I’ve always regretted it.  Jeep stopped making it a year or two later, leaving only the over-large Grand Wagoneer in the showrooms.

Now for the RFI about that Wagoneer:  huge miss, or lucky escape?

RFI: Widthways Expansion

Question for the tifosi:

Was the Testarossa when Ferrari decided to build bigger and fatter cars?  I mean, from the Mondial:

…to the Testa, in less than a year?

It’s a serious question.  I for one have always preferred the smaller-framed Ferraris over the bloated modern models, and I think it was the Testarossa which started the trend.  But I seek info on this topic from someone who knows more than I do.

The Return Of The Tiggy

Phew.  Turns out the problem with the Tiguan’s engine was not serious — just needed new plugs and coil, so less than $400.  Had the brake fluid replaced and an oil change while it was there, so I picked it up on Saturday morning and it runs like a sewing machine again.

Question:  is it reasonable for spark plugs to last ~100,000 miles?  (They were the premium-priced ones I had installed right after I bought the car back in 2016.)

Of course, they tried to build the ticket by suggesting that my rear brakes were getting thin — but I pointed out that a) the car passed state inspection only three weeks ago, and b) I drive like an old lady anyway, never braking hard unless an emergency looms.

True story:  Some years ago (don’t remember which car it was), the first time I ever braked hard and the ABS kicked in, I thought my brakes had broken so I took off to the dealer quickly.  When I explained the situation the mechanic looked at me like I was from another planet and said:  “You’ve owned this car for over ten years, driven it every day, and you’ve never had to use the ABS?”  I hadn’t.  Didn’t even know what ABS stood for — some kind of magic, I guess.