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^^^^^
I went through a vintage British sports car phase, and I’m too often tempted to fall back into it.
A conversation with an old friend (a “car guy,” a one-time body-and-fender man, a stock-car racer, etc.) a couple weeks ago touched on the cool cars we used to own. I told him what a decent enough early MGB (a lower-end car, as vintage sports cars go) sells for these days — seven grand or more — and added that the reason I might actually afford a toy car is because it’s been decades since I bought a toy car. And then he told me how much his race car driving cost him: a grand or more per weekend. And then he mentioned the brand-spankin’-new Triumph motorcycle he recently crashed when a deer crossed his path. He walked away from it. The bike was totaled, as was the deer.
I went through a vintage British sports car phase, and I’m too often tempted to fall back into it.
A conversation with an old friend (a “car guy,” a one-time body-and-fender man, a stock-car racer, etc.) a couple weeks ago touched on the cool cars we used to own. I told him what a decent enough early MGB (a lower-end car, as vintage sports cars go) sells for these days — seven grand or more — and added that the reason I might actually afford a toy car is because it’s been decades since I bought a toy car. And then he told me how much his race car driving cost him: a grand or more per weekend. And then he mentioned the brand-spankin’-new Triumph motorcycle he recently crashed when a deer crossed his path. He walked away from it. The bike was totaled, as was the deer.
