Once More Around the Track

Thought for the day:  Know how the burglar got into the house? Intru-der window.

Not our house, but it DOES look cozy...

Nobody broke into our house this week, but  stuff crawled in the window, dragged me away from the computer, and made me (gasp!) do other things. So no new post for today. But, hey, come on in, anyway. (You can even use the door.)

What we're gonna do is sit back and relax with an oldie-but-goodie post, first published in 2011 as Vroom! Vroom! Since Smarticus and I are going to an Italian car show tomorrow... and (woo HOO!) meeting up with visiting blogger pal Mr. Charleston there... I figured a little fun something-something having to do with cars would be appropriate. I hope you enjoy it.

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Thought for the day: Hey, I'm not old, baby ... I'm classic.

Hot Rod? Yeah ... sleek, classy ... I like it!

Since way back before we were married, my husband called me Hot Rod. Not sure why. Was it my classy chassis? My shiny good looks? Surely, it wasn't my rumbling exhaust system, because I never did that around him until after we were married. And he only wished I was racy ... or fast. 

Maybe it was just because ... he liked me? He sure as heck liked cars. Especially hot rods. Still does, because he's a real deal gearhead. Which means, since we were teenagers, he's been a skilled shade tree mechanic who can pretty much rebuild an engine with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back. Slight exaggeration, but not by much.

Now, as I've explained a few times before,  I come from a long line of wanderers ... y'know, people who possess an inordinate ability to get lost. When we were dating, Smarticus would entertain himself for hours by driving somewhere, and then letting me direct him home from the middle of that God-only-knows-where nowhere. So, I suppose it's somewhat understandable that my father was, shall we say, dubious when, in the fall of 1968,  I told him my favorite gearhead and I were going to enter a road rally. With him behind the wheel, and ME (har-de-har-har) as the navigator.

This is the car he drove back then. Big Red, we called her. A 1961 Chevy Impala. Not exactly the kind of car one associates with a road rally, is it?

At registration, each team received multiple pages of instructions. In code. Kinda. It might say something like 2 L after circle S. That meant to take the second left turn, and the circle S turned out to be a monogrammed screen door on one of the houses at the side of the road. Tricky, huh?

We ran into a teensy bit of trouble with one of the directions. It said RT. Right turn, right? That's what I thought, too. But it wasn't. It meant Right AT THE T. So we lost some time getting back on course. Not to worry. We (ahem) made it up quite handily. When we flew over a covered bridge, we pulled a regular yee-HA General Lee kinda maneuver. When Big Red came back to earth, I was sitting under the steering wheel. On his lap. Nice, but not terribly conducive to good driving. (He installed seat belts shortly after that.)





                                                                          Bottom line?

First Place Driver!!!

And if you can believe it, this direction-impaired, can't fold, let alone read a map person?

Holy moly! I won first place, too!!!!

After we moved to Georgia and were raising a family, he was too busy being an engineer at the foreskin of technology, (his words, not mine) to spend much time playing with cars. However, in the seventies, he and a buddy did build an econorail. You know ... a dragster?

That's ME sitting in there. Wow! It felt awesome.

Here's a better look at the champion window-rattler. The only sad thing is, after all the work it took to build her, they never got to race her. Not even once. Turned out the track didn't have proper insurance to cover that class vehicle back then, so they ended up selling her. Bummer!






Now, lo and behold, my happily retired better half is once again enjoying life as a gearhead. His three project cars are a gorgeous banana cream El Camino with a black racing stripe, a Corvette,  and my personal favorite, the Rat Rod:

1930 Model A

He put the original Model A body on an S-10 chassis, which facilitated a lot of modern safety features. How do you like that1958 Mercedes grill? We found it at a car show/swap meet when we went to Florida.

Another shot of his baby.

He took her out for a quick test run last week, and couldn't believe how FAST that girl can go. There's a long way to go before she's finished, but she is gonna be one awesome rat rod.

Hmmm, know what? He hasn't called me Hot Rod for quite a while. Shoot, I dunno,  maybe he oughta start calling me Rat Rod, instead.  After all, I may not have much rust, but I could use some extensive body work. And a good paint job. (But I still have plenty of VROOM under my hood!)

Oh, yeah. There IS a moral to my road rally story, if you think about it:

 With the  proper drive(r), you CAN overcome your weaknesses ... and you CAN win.

Still together, after all these years.

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


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A quick update. The rat rod looks even better now than she did two years ago... me? Not so much.

Brits Ride with Pride

Thought for the day:  MGs don't leak oil; they mark their places.

Dontcha love the front of this car? If I were more clever, I'd doctor the picture to make it look even more like a smiling face. No matter. When Smarticus and I went to the British Car Fayre in our town last weekend, we saw plenty of real smiling faces. And plenty of extraordinary British cars, too.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of owning a British car, but want to know what it's like: Next big rainstorm, wait 'til dark, roll down all the windows, leave off lights and heater and wipers, and go for a drive. Stop at every intersection and throw out a twenty dollar bill. It's not exactly the same, but it's real close.  [Mike Nash]

We evidently have plenty of anglophiles and UK ex-pats living in our area, because this annual car show, sponsored in part by the loverly Taste of Britain always draws a fine array of vehicles and visitors. Lots of Triumphs, Rolls Royces, MGs, Morgans, Austin Healies, Astin Martins, Lotuses, Minis, Range Rovers, Bentleys, Jaguars, motorcycles, and more. A bunch of drool-worthy vehicles. But not a single Delorean! Can you believe that?

Nope, not a single one; there were three! Sitting side by side by side, they were quite a sight to behold.  (But if I can't have it in red, I don't want one...)

One street was pretty well lined with Minis. Some of them are reeeeally... mini. You hear the one about the trouble with bucket seats is we don't all have the same size buckets? Well, I know some people who'd have a hard time fitting their impressive buckets into some of these Minis. Pulling them out of one of these cars would sound like a champagne cork popping.



But, if a fella can't fit into a small car, there are always other ways around it. Right, Mr. Bean?

There were quite a few Land Rovers, too. These two cracked me up. One for Dad... and one for Junior.

Hey, you never can tell when you might have an opportunity to go on safari in Atlanta. Heck, everyone knows the traffic here is like a jungle, and some of the drivers are real... beasts.








Much to my surprise, there were even a couple Fords in the show. Huh, how 'bout that? It seems some of them are made in Britain, too? For sure, we've never seen a Ford commercial in the U.S. that comes even close to being as funny as this British one:

Anyone who's familiar with a Lotus will recognize that this one stands out from the pack. Its front end reminded us of a Prowler.

And son of a gun...

Doggone if we didn't know its owner! Actually, we knew his now-deceased parents better, but we recognized the Montgomery name, and then recognized him, so of course, had to stop and chat for a bit.

In case you can't read it, the writing on Smarticus' shirt says: I've been a bad boy. Send me to my GARAGE. (HA! Isn't that perfect? A big thanks and a tip of the hat to our Tennessee pals Kati and Cliff.)

Aye, and there were bonnie brogues to be heard, and evidence of a wee bit of Scottish humor.

(The patch on that hat says Gleneagle, Scotland.)

Check out this 1933 Rolls Royce. Its owner had a good sense of humor, too. Know how I could tell? By what I saw sitting in the back seat...

Pardon me, but do you have any Grey Poupon?

Evi-doggone-dently!






A GT6 pulled alongside a Rolls Royce at a traffic light. "Do you have a car phone?" its driver asked the man in the Rolls.

"Of course I do!" came the haughty reply.

"Do you have a fax machine?"

The Rolls owner sniffed. "I have that, too."

"Do you have a double bed in the back?" the GT6 driver wanted to know.

With an annoyed frown, the Rolls driver sped away, and that very afternoon, had his mechanic install a double bed in the back of his car.

A week later, the Rolls driver spotted the GT6 at the side of the road with its back windows fogged up and steam pouring out. He pulled over, got out of his car, strutted up to it, and and pounded on its rear window. "I say!" he yelled. "I want you to know I had a double bed installed!"

The GT6 driver rolled his window down and frowned. "Bloody hell!" he said. "You got me out of the shower to tell me that?"

How about this one? Anybody see the movie featuring this car?

Bond, James Bond...

Wouldn't this hood ornament be absolutely perfect for our rat rod? I mean, Smarticus and I do practice a certain amount of smart assiness from time to time.



I took lots more pictures, but rather than bore you with them, let's take a brief look at another part of this car show. A surprising part. At least, I don't remember seeing it at the show in past years...

How about that? Who knew Georgia had a Winston Churchill Society? Not I! So in honor of the great man, I'll leave you with a smattering of some of his many famous quotes:

• We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
• We contend that for a nation to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle.
• An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile — hoping it will eat him last.
• From now on, ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I shall not put.
• A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.
• Bessie Braddock- Sir, you are drunk.  Churchill- Madam, you are ugly. In the morning, I shall be sober.
• Nancy Astor- Sir, if you were my husband, I would give you poison.  Churchill- If I were your husband, I would take it.
• Never never never give up.
• Everyone has his day, and some days last longer than others.

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                          I hope you have a smashing day... and may it last all weekend.

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

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.

Better Than a Three-Ring Circus

Thought for the day:  Life is a ticket to the greatest show on earth.  [Martin H. Fischer]

No, we didn't go to a circus when we were in Florida, but we did go to what has to be one of the greatest car shows on earth. Wait, wait! Don't run away. This wasn't just another car show...



What's this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare? [W.H. Davies]

Believe me, the show at Mirror Lake provided LOTS of things worthy of standing and and staring. [Sincere thanks to the loverly Mr. Charleston for writing about this cool show on his blog last year, and to the equally loverly Pixel Peeper for telling me it's a show well worth attending.]

First off, the location for this show is absolutely gorgeous... a picturesque lake with walking paths, green spaces and gardens all around it, and a pretty little town nearby. And the CARS!!! Just about any kind of car you can imagine... and some you can't imagine. They were all around the perimeter of the lake, as well as along the streets. If it had just been Smarticus and me there, I'm sure we would have seen every single one of them, but we had to consider the kids and grandkids, too, so we only saw about a quarter of them. There was also a bunch of beautiful wooden boats there. You know, like the old Chris Crafts? Lots of maintenance, but truly beautiful vessels. Throw in arts and crafts booths, a farmer's market, food booths, and swans, and what can I say? There was something there for everyone. Even balloons, which is what our granddaughters wanted more than any-thing. Natch, grandma got one for each of them, and natch, I tied them to the girls' wrists. The girls decided they were big girls and didn't need to have them tied onto their wrists. And natch, they wailed like banshees as they watched said balloons sail off into the ether. Oh well, they enjoyed 'em while they had 'em.

                                                    Okay, ready for some pics?

Bizarre-looking, huh? (Oh, and check out that clear Chamber of Commerce sunny day, wouldja?)

Yep, it looks just as weird from the front.

Now, that's more like it.

And THAT...

Yeah, this car show was so much fun, it was ...downright  scary.

But you don't just wanta see cars, right?

How's about a boat?

Here's a classic Chris Craft. She's a beauty, isn't she?

The other beauty in the shot is granddaughter Persephone, who was already begging for a balloon, like fifteen minutes after we'd arrived. (Well, she did see some other kid with one ...)

A bunch of the wooden boats did slow laps around the lake. What a sight! A couple boaters were more into speed, so they lapped the other boats, but for the most part, it was a stately parade of sorts.

I TOLD you there were swans there. Here's granddaughter Persephone again, taking a rest in front of this one. Yep, she's smiling now... she has her balloon.

There were real swans there, too. Black ones. Aren't they beautiful? I must admit, I spent a good bit of time standing and staring at them. At one point, a foolish egret tried to invade their space. Wow, I had no idea swans could be so feisty! Alas, the fight was all over with before I even got my trusty camera out.

So, there ya have it. The annual Mirror Lake Classic. Not just a car show... a three-ring circus of fun. I can hardly wait to go back!

The healthiest response to life is joy. [Deepak Chopra]

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

WAIT! Don't go yet! Two more things: First, I changed my mind about doing two Friday posts for the rest of the month. I'm thrilled so many people read and commented on last week's False Start, but alas, the other "regular" post didn't get much love. So, time to cut my losses. One post is obviously enough.

Talking about cutting my losses, is anybody interested in reading my long-suffering WIP? I've arrived at a fork in the road, and it's time to decide whether to keep pushing this thing for publication, (maybe with Outskirts Press?) or whether it's time to simply stuff it into the drawer under the old socks and underwear and move on to something new. I have edited and rewritten this book so many times, it's approaching idiocy. To this point, all my readers (except the agents!) have been cheerleaders, but what I really need is constructive criticism. I need people who are willing to crush my dreams  stomp on my ego spit on my so-called writing ability provide an honest evaluation. Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade isn't a horror story, fantasy, or fast-moving thriller. It's more of a cozy book you can wrap around yourself and get all comfortable with. Might make you laugh a time or two; might even make you cry. Anyhow, if you're interested, you can use that nifty "email me" button in the sidebar to let me know. If you have a kindle, that'd be perfect. I could ship it right to ya.

Okay, NOW you can go. Thanks. Until next time, yadda yadda yadda.