Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1496

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1496
by Angharad

Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
-Dormouse-001.jpg

At my insistence he took me out to see his car, there was a slight scratch on the front mudguard and perhaps a bit of a dent. “That’s still driveable.”

“Yeah, but Darnley will need to have to to fix it.”

“Drive it to work, get him to collect it and I’ll fetch you from work.”

“You don’t want me to drive your car, do you?”

“It’s not my car is it? It belongs to the bank.”

“Um, not quite.”

“Not quite? It either does or it doesn’t.”

“In which case it doesn’t.”

“So to whom does it belong?” I even managed to ask grammatically.

“Um, you, why?”

“Me?”

“Yes, it’s hardly a revelation is it? I mean it was your car which provided the insurance payout and with which I bought the new one. So it’s your car.”

“So why didn’t I get another Cayenne?”

“I thought you’d like the Jaguar.”

“I do, but I’d have thought they’d have just given us another Cayenne.”

“I thought you’d like the Jaguar.”

“Simon, you’ve said that once already.”

“So, maybe I mean it.”

“Or old people repeat themselves.”

“You bitch, I’m not old.”

“Well, stop repeating yourself then!”

“Cheeky cow, perhaps it was something important I was saying and making sure that little girly brain was taking it on board.”

“Is that a declaration of war, husband?”

“No, don’t be silly. Why would you ask that?”

“Because my small girly brain isn’t always synchronised with your large macho gob.”

“That would be obvious to a blind man.”

“But not to a sighted one.”

“Meaning?”

“Sometimes you can be such a prick.”

“Oh thank you very much.” He stormed off muttering and cursing as he went. I went back to my course and its preparation. At bedtime we negotiated a truce, though he was still spitting feathers.

After I go home from the school run, I called Mr Darnley. “Who would you say is the best person to check out a 1963 S type Jaguar?”

“Doug Wellington, why, who’s got one?”

“I have.”

“Mrs Cameron, he’d love to look at it, so would I, where can we see it?” I arranged to meet them at the house in Southsea in an hour’s time. I drove my modern Jag to open a garage to one that was older than I was.

They were both drooling over it, “You wouldn’t like to sell it would you?” asked Wellington.

“No, but I need to have it made roadworthy by tomorrow, if that’s possible.”

Wellington nodded, he noticed it was tax exempt so it only required an MOT test and service. The battery was flat, but using my car with jump leads, he managed to start it. The garage filled with smoke and I watched them both come out coughing and spluttering, I was sitting safely in my own car revving it for the extra charge from the battery.

Mr Wellington drove the veteran Jag away, followed by Darnley in an equally old Rover, which looked as mint as the old Jaguar. I wasn’t sure how I was going to play this. I could drive the old car and let Simon have this one, or let him drive the old one and take the risk that it’s irreparable if he prangs it. Actually, it’s probably more robust than the newer cars.

I drove home and still couldn’t make my mind up. I was clearing up after lunch when the phone rang. I answered it. It was Louisa Alcott.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, I can see now, I couldn’t yesterday.”

“Enjoy it then, read some of your Bible.”

“I’m not wasting time indoors when I could be out in the garden looking at my flowers or watching the sea. I can read during the evenings.”

“Look, I’m sorry Miss Alcott, but I have several things to do, not least collecting some of my kids from school.”

“They’re children, Lady Cameron, not the offspring of goats.”

“Okay, I have to collect my children, or some of them.”

“Very well, I don’t wish to sound contemptuous, but please don’t let these Americanisms infiltrate your speech–kids and chewing gum–and you as an aristocrat should know that better than most. You’re English, be proud of it.”

“Actually, I’m Scots, Miss Alcott, but I am proud of it.”

“But of course, with a name like Cameron, I hope I didn’t offend–but that’s your husband’s name–so are you Scottish too?”

“I was born in Dumfries, does that answer your question?”

“Yes, I suppose it does–pretty little town, where Robert Burns lived and died.”

“That’s the place.”

“Once again, you saved my life, Lady Cameron, thank you so much.”

“No, you did. I have to go.” I put the phone down. Then dialled the insurance company and arranged cover for the S type for Simon and me to drive it. I did consider Tom as well, but then thought he’s not into old cars–not after we got him to part with his old Land Rover.

I’d just put the phone down when it rang again and I was about to tell Miss Alcott to go away–for a long holiday–when I recognised the voice of Mr Wellington. “You car is ready, we had to replace the battery and did an oil change but she is in such good nick, if ever you want to sell her–give me first refusal.”

“I’m not planning on selling her, at the same time, I don’t know how much driving it will do.”

“Well, let me know, I’ll give you a good price.”

“If I do, I will let you know.”

“We’ll drop her round in about half an hour–I’ll send you an account in due course.”

I thanked him then went off to collect the girls. They were quite inquisitive about the old car parked in the driveway.

“We got visitors?” asked Trish.

“Don’t think so, why?”

“There’s a strange car there–didn’t you notice it?”

“No, I didn’t see any strange cars.”

“What’s that then?” she pointed and waved her finger at the elderly Jaguar.

“That’s my vintage Jaguar.”

“Vintage? Yours?” her eyes nearly pooped out on stalks, “How long have you had that?”

“Quite some time, why?”

“You had a Jaguar, that’s what it is, isn’t it–with the cat on the bonnet?”

“Yes, Mr Whitehead gave it to me.”

“Daddy will want to have go in it–so will Julie.”

“I might let Daddy have a go, but Julie will have to whistle.”

Trish laughed at my comment. She had a good look at the car, then said she preferred the new one. I suspected it was easier to drive, old cars don’t have synchromesh on some of the gears–so you have to double declutch and things. Simon might be more keen on doing that than I am.

I got Julie to collect him, which meant he was fuming when he entered the drive but completely forgot his anger when he saw the S type–especially when he realised it didn’t belong to a visitor. I was in for an interesting evening.

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Comments

Big cat

At last the vintage "big cat" re-emerges, I was wondering when it was going to reappear, and I'll bet Simon wants to have it for his own

Poppykin

S Type

I'm to lazy to go look it up. Is that by chance one of those 12 cylinder monsters that Simon will be insane for and damage someone that damages it? He might actually be able to keep it in tune driving it back and forth on the roads, that's if he can find leaded supplement to stick in the gas tank. But then, to drive it, I'm sure he would think nothing of having a minor re-build done to make it current road worthy, and to pass exhaust inspections. Then he could see off that newer one, or drive it in the winter.

add on.... and this gives her some real ammo to hold over his head about bringing something to the table. After some checking, I found it is a 6 cylinder monster,sports/luxury/executive car. Next question, Did "M" from the older Bond flicks drive one of these?

No, It's A Six

Either a 3.4 or 3.8 liter. I'm not sure which. With either engine, the performance would be modest compared to either of the new Jags in the family.

Bribery

Bribery always works with children, even big ones.

Good chapter Angie.

OXOXOX.

Bev

bev_1.jpg

Dunno

I'm a bloke (at least I was the last time I looked down there!) and have never seen the fascination some members of the subspecies have with cars that can go 4x the national speed limit and accelerate from 0 - 60 in less time than it takes to say "accelerate". And now the government's getting behind their cause, proposing raising the motorway speed limit to 80mph to allow sales reps to travel a bit faster will apparently boost the British economy - presumably by allowing them to travel up to nearly 90mph without fear of prosecution. Never mind that as soon as they hit town they'll be reduced to 20-30mph tops.

My ideal type of car is small, cheap, safe and economical. I don't give a damn about its appearance, acceleration or top speed.

 

Bike Resources

There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1496

Maybe Cathy needs some catnip for Simon after seeing the vintage Cat.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Here's hoping Simon

knows one end of a spanner from the other, As most fellow brits will know, British cars of the late twentieth century were not known for being the most reliable of beasts, So Simon should get prepared, Learn where his spark plugs are, Get himself a good tool kit And most of all keep his fingers crossed that the car was not built on a Friday afternoon ...

Kirri

SMART CAR

I just read through the entire article of yours and it was quite good. This is a great article thanks for sharing this informative information. I will visit your blog regularly for some latest post.

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Mesquite Ford RV