Motoring
03-01-2004, 07:18 AM
#31
Originally posted by MsPerky
That reminds me, Gene. You are right. It is beautiful driving through Amish country up there around Lancaster. I did it years ago before I got the S, but need to go back. So glad Bea was feeling up to a cruise.
That reminds me, Gene. You are right. It is beautiful driving through Amish country up there around Lancaster. I did it years ago before I got the S, but need to go back. So glad Bea was feeling up to a cruise.
03-09-2004, 07:25 AM
#32
Rob-
I stumbled across this British Motoring website and naturally thought of you
Gotta run to a meeting with a swimming pool, so I have not investigated it yet.....later!
Ahhhh, motoring and Spring
I stumbled across this British Motoring website and naturally thought of you
Gotta run to a meeting with a swimming pool, so I have not investigated it yet.....later!
Ahhhh, motoring and Spring
03-09-2004, 11:31 AM
#34
[QUOTE]Originally posted by paS2K
Rob-
I stumbled across this British Motoring website and naturally thought of you
Rob-
I stumbled across this British Motoring website and naturally thought of you
03-09-2004, 01:45 PM
#35
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[QUOTE]Originally posted by Legal Bill
... The greatest automotive writer of our time (or any other) is Peter Egan who writes for Road and Track... in everyhting there has to be a best and he is it.
I eagerly await each issue of R&T and unless something amazing is on the cover (this month it was the Elise) I turn to his monthly column, Side Glances, and usually read it twice.
... The greatest automotive writer of our time (or any other) is Peter Egan who writes for Road and Track... in everyhting there has to be a best and he is it.
I eagerly await each issue of R&T and unless something amazing is on the cover (this month it was the Elise) I turn to his monthly column, Side Glances, and usually read it twice.
03-15-2004, 05:52 PM
#36
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[QUOTE]Originally posted by ralper
On another bulletin board, in another forum, a very well written former participant of this bulletin board has written an article titled
On another bulletin board, in another forum, a very well written former participant of this bulletin board has written an article titled
03-15-2004, 06:13 PM
#37
Thread Starter
[QUOTE]Originally posted by Dallas
04-06-2004, 10:48 AM
#38
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Lunchtime... time for a little stress relief, to have a brief fling, to renew a bond that never seems to grow old.
It's cool today, the temperature says 64* but it seems like only 50; must be the stiff breeze blowing. As I walk out to the parking lot I glance up at the puffy white clouds, the last remnants of the scattered showers that rolled through the area earlier. It's dry here, we got lucky; the rain avoided us here.
I approach her, sitting there glowing in the dappled sunlight, her seductive curves beckoning me. She seems to be saying "It's about time, I've been ready and waiting, let's go!!!" I press the key fob, and hear the "click" of the doorlock releasing. I open the door and easing inside I can still smell that new leather scent she wears so nicely.
I slip the key into the slot, depress the clutch while turning the key, and my finger stabs at the bright red "START" button. She bursts into song, growling and muttering as my right foot gently blips the throttle while my right hand slides the gearshift into neutral, the clutch coming back up. I reach up and flip the latches, pull back on the top switch and the top whines a little as it folds neatly behind me. The sky opens up above me in all its glory, the sun warming the leather steering wheel, my glasses darkening. I clip the seatbelt and give it a tug, ensuring it is secure and tight, my left hand reaching downward to flip the doorlock.
As I glance around to clear the area I depress the clutch, my hand slipping the transmission into first, and I gently ease her forward with a coordinated motion of both feet; my hands twist the wheel to point her towards the exit, and she burbles along, her muscles warming, stretching, preparing for the fun that lies ahead of us.
We pull out of the lot onto the highway and I let her run a bit, holding her back so she doesn't strain herself. Figuring we have about an hour, I point her towards a nearby back road that will lead us to the river crossing. We follow the twisting ribbon of blacktop, short bursts of power echoing off the trees as we breeze along at the speed limit; this area is known to be watched and we have to be careful.
We come into town and head for the bridge, idling along in traffic and enjoying the sunshine. Across the bridge is a winding two-lane road that follows the river north; here is where we will play.
As we turn onto the river road, she is eager to run. I snapshift downwards, easing the clutch up while stabbing the throttle. She leaps forward, her rearend doing that little wiggle I love, her urgent growl rapidly becoming a throaty roar, and finally a banshee-like scream as the tach and speedometer flash faster than the eye can follow. I flick my wrist as my feet do their dance, another gear and another wild run up the decibel scale. My hands caress the wheel, and she responds as if she can read my mind, slaloming left and right along the narrow road, totally alone together.
This continues for a few miles, the ebb and flow of our rapid pace making my heart pound and my back tingle. All too soon we approach the next town, and I reign her in, letting her slow down easily, and we lazily make our way to the bridge that will carry us back across the river towards work.
As we head away from the town I give her a little goose and she jumps forward, and suddenly we are at the speed limit so I have to hold her back again. This continues most of the way back, as this road is a little busier and there is little opportunity to run freely. Eventually we are near work, and I have a last chance to let her go. She responds willingly, with more energy than I am prepared to handle. I glance around fearfully, but there are no local constabulary present, and I heave a sigh of relief.
We turn into the lot and she burbles along back to her accustomed spot. I allow her to idle a bit as I raise the top, gathering my thoughts as I prepare to return to work. As I open the door and climb out, her surface is shining in the sun, and I walk around to examine her from all sides. I think to myself "What did I do to deserve something like this??? How did I ever get so lucky???"
As I walk back towards the building I keep glancing back over my shoulder...
It's cool today, the temperature says 64* but it seems like only 50; must be the stiff breeze blowing. As I walk out to the parking lot I glance up at the puffy white clouds, the last remnants of the scattered showers that rolled through the area earlier. It's dry here, we got lucky; the rain avoided us here.
I approach her, sitting there glowing in the dappled sunlight, her seductive curves beckoning me. She seems to be saying "It's about time, I've been ready and waiting, let's go!!!" I press the key fob, and hear the "click" of the doorlock releasing. I open the door and easing inside I can still smell that new leather scent she wears so nicely.
I slip the key into the slot, depress the clutch while turning the key, and my finger stabs at the bright red "START" button. She bursts into song, growling and muttering as my right foot gently blips the throttle while my right hand slides the gearshift into neutral, the clutch coming back up. I reach up and flip the latches, pull back on the top switch and the top whines a little as it folds neatly behind me. The sky opens up above me in all its glory, the sun warming the leather steering wheel, my glasses darkening. I clip the seatbelt and give it a tug, ensuring it is secure and tight, my left hand reaching downward to flip the doorlock.
As I glance around to clear the area I depress the clutch, my hand slipping the transmission into first, and I gently ease her forward with a coordinated motion of both feet; my hands twist the wheel to point her towards the exit, and she burbles along, her muscles warming, stretching, preparing for the fun that lies ahead of us.
We pull out of the lot onto the highway and I let her run a bit, holding her back so she doesn't strain herself. Figuring we have about an hour, I point her towards a nearby back road that will lead us to the river crossing. We follow the twisting ribbon of blacktop, short bursts of power echoing off the trees as we breeze along at the speed limit; this area is known to be watched and we have to be careful.
We come into town and head for the bridge, idling along in traffic and enjoying the sunshine. Across the bridge is a winding two-lane road that follows the river north; here is where we will play.
As we turn onto the river road, she is eager to run. I snapshift downwards, easing the clutch up while stabbing the throttle. She leaps forward, her rearend doing that little wiggle I love, her urgent growl rapidly becoming a throaty roar, and finally a banshee-like scream as the tach and speedometer flash faster than the eye can follow. I flick my wrist as my feet do their dance, another gear and another wild run up the decibel scale. My hands caress the wheel, and she responds as if she can read my mind, slaloming left and right along the narrow road, totally alone together.
This continues for a few miles, the ebb and flow of our rapid pace making my heart pound and my back tingle. All too soon we approach the next town, and I reign her in, letting her slow down easily, and we lazily make our way to the bridge that will carry us back across the river towards work.
As we head away from the town I give her a little goose and she jumps forward, and suddenly we are at the speed limit so I have to hold her back again. This continues most of the way back, as this road is a little busier and there is little opportunity to run freely. Eventually we are near work, and I have a last chance to let her go. She responds willingly, with more energy than I am prepared to handle. I glance around fearfully, but there are no local constabulary present, and I heave a sigh of relief.
We turn into the lot and she burbles along back to her accustomed spot. I allow her to idle a bit as I raise the top, gathering my thoughts as I prepare to return to work. As I open the door and climb out, her surface is shining in the sun, and I walk around to examine her from all sides. I think to myself "What did I do to deserve something like this??? How did I ever get so lucky???"
As I walk back towards the building I keep glancing back over my shoulder...
After reading this, I'm going to take a cold shower. TomC -- does your wife know about this affair????? 
04-06-2004, 01:13 PM
#40
I believe this is called an analogy? But whatever it is called, Tom has a gift for storytelling...
But whatever it is called, Tom has a gift for storytelling...
