rides of our grandfathers

a tiny shower and a slight breeze brought us to the old ford factory, where the surviving automobiles of the stone age gathered in the first celebration of the motoring heritage day.

in a bolshevik state, no less.

on display were the cars of our grandfathers. or the grandfathers of our cars. things our fathers were too young to drive and appreciate.

alfas. i like them in general.

it's a helmet.

for not getting out of the way, thou shalt looketh like a cock.

it works; the owner honked it for us.

yim's favourite. i don't share his sentiment though.

i laughed as i shot this car. it was so long i had to use maximum wide angle and stand at least five meters away.

this thing has crumple zones; those lights and horns crumple as they crash into you.

woo!

wee!

it's a fucking gondola.

flat exhaust.

funfact.

cat's paw exhaust.

oh my god. this is the ultimate merc. i love it.

original colour.

i'm starting to understand why my dad swears by mercs. too bad, though, that they don't build them like this anymore.

and this is the one i want to get most. the distinctive double-grilled triumph spitfire. i regret to say that this particular spitfire's owner must be a female and she must be very young.

because she'd splashed the whole car with crystals and totally destroyed the thing. and that black spot on the bonnet isn't dirt, it's a decal of a fly. good thing it's on a classic scheme then; not a lot of chances to go out and terrorise road users.

it was an inspiring trip. i don't mean i want to start collecting these things, but at least i had the chance to view these old tootmachines. anyway one morris is enough of a handful for now. i'm looking forward to the next motoring heritage day, if any. and of course the tuner exhibitions too. i swing both ways.

next, a silvia. not in the near future though.