Best Bib and a Tucker

Thought for the day:  Put on your best bib and tucker.

I LOVE MOMMY bib

 Here's a picture of one of my favorite bibs. (Of course, it'd be even better if it said, I love grandmommy.) That cute little fella wearing it is our grandson Aaron, and the picture was taken almost three years ago, so he doesn't need to wear a bib any more.

Know what a tucker is? It's a lacy piece of cloth worn by modest women in the 18th and 19th centuries to cover their cleavage decorate their neck area. The cloths tucked into a woman's dress and extended to the top of her neck. (And wearing your best bib and tucker means to dress in your finest clothes.)

But that's not the kind of tucker I was hoping to see last weekend. (Nope, that was just a silly lead-in.)

I know a lot about cars, man. I can look at a car's headlights and tell you exactly which way it's coming. [Mitch Hedberg]

Do you know enough about cars to recognize this one? It's a 1948 (ta- DA!) Tucker, courtesy of Wikipedia. Alas, the one I was hoping to see in person was gone. Sold right out from under me. So to speak.

But fear not. There were plenty of other beauties to see.

Okay, so maybe not this one. This one, um, needs a little work. A fixer-upper. (But it has lots of potential, dontcha think? )

A close-up of one of the fixer-upper's wheels. In case you can't tell, the spokes are made of wood.

So where did we go to see both fixer-uppers and beauties? The annual Model A swap meet. This was the third year we attended, and the second time we drove there in my hubby's 1930 Model A rat rod. Unfortunately, in spite of the sign indicating reserved parking for Model As only, so many interlopers were allowed to park there, we had to park elsewhere. Bummer.

This Model A was there last year, too, and it's still one of my favorites. I LOVE the colors. Very classy-looking.

What was kinda neat about this one is how the flags are mounted on front. With springs as holders. Clever, huh?

The real show-stopper vehicles were inside. The annual Model A swap meet, held outside the warehouse, marks one of the few times of the year when the public is invited inside to see the Cofer family's stable of award-winning vehicles.

Rows and rows of gorgeous vehicles, shiny, immaculate, and better-looking than when they were new. If you're interested, a simple Google search should take you to a site where you can take a gander at all of them. The collection is world-renown.

This sign would fit right in at a brothel, wouldn't it?

Of course, this is the kinda Woody the sign was actually referring to.

Here's a slightly closer shot of the wood paneling, but not close enough to do it justice. Rich wood with a mellow glow... and the pieces are joined together beautifully with dovetail joints.

Yeah, I posted a pic of this last year, too, but it's still one of my favorites. An Indian motorcycle... with a sidecar. And it's RED! (What's not to like?)

Any of you guys remember this? A Whizzer. (If you had one, I wanta hear about it!)

Anybody recognize this one? (Hint: the flux capacitor isn't included.)

Time to head home. This is a rear view of the rat rod. Smarticus made the cedar bed out of our old hot tub. Pretty neat, huh?

A side view.  What she may lack in aesthetic beauty, she more than makes up for in good old-fashioned fun. And I'm proud to say, Smarticus did all the work himself. All he started with was an original 1930 rusted cab. Yeah, it was a major fixer-upper.

A lot of the pristine vehicles we see at various car shows have signs on them saying, "Do not touch." The owners are forever spraying and wiping, lest a dust mote or fingerprint dare mess up their perfect paint jobs. That's all well and good, but not exactly our style. We once had a "Do not touch" sign on her at one of the shows, too, just for a laugh. We told people we didn't want THEM to get dirty.

And so we come to the end of another fine adventure on another hot summer day in Georgia. Well, almost the end. We still had the drive home... and believe you me, a ride in the rat rod is always an adventure in itself. And we were both... tuckered out.


Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.