Top day for a blast!
Discussion
Well, what fun was had by myself and me Julie today... and I'm not talking about the moonlight quickie on the patio.... 
After a Saturday evening spent sampling some of Belgium's finest Bieres d'Abbaye, Sunday got off to what can best be described as a slow start
About 3PM we decided that even with the aircon running full tilt, the house was getting a bit stifling. So we got the 390 out and aimed the pointy end (complete with prototype new wedge indicator/ sidelamp!) at the Yorkshire Moors. I toyed briefly with the Helmsley road, but reasoning that the usual Sunday hordes of born-again suicide jockeys on bikes would undoubtedly have something to prove, I opted instead for Kildale/ Commondale/ Castleton/ Lealholm and the coast.
We positively thundered around the rollercoaster countryside, hardly needing to change gear as the torque did its stuff; a healthy dose of over-run cackle scaring the crap out of sundry yokels as well as their sheep, and after the world's most expensive roast beef sandwich, coffee and a pot of tea (TEN QUID FFS!!) in Lealholm we headed east to the coast road. Bored with overtaking the snoozing Teesside hordes homeward bound from Whitby, we detoured past Grinkle Park to that delightful hovel of Carlin How and the Skinningrove steelworks. Somewhere along the route a black Golf GTI joined the foray, and much of the world's oil reserves were expended in showing it a clean powerband, with the resultant comment from a white-knuckled Julie that I might inform her whenever I was about to 'throw the Turbo switch'. I informed her that the V8 has no need of such accoutrements, and received an icy glare.
The Parkway past Middlesbrough was dispatched with equal verve: the guy on the Yamaha 600 must have thought he'd lost a couple of cylinders - or maybe he had, such was the way he disappeared in the mirror Maybe I do him a disservice: perhaps he's only 3 points away from a ban...
A quiet half-hour was then spent in watching fish leaping from the Tees - who'd have thought that the black slimy river of my youth would be this enjoyable! - before a final short cruise homeward.
As we rolled back into Wedg1e Villas the odometer ticked over the 100 miles: something in excess of 17 mpg for the trip.
A sports car, a shapely blonde and a summer's day: it's still enough to gladden a man's heart.
Ian
After a Saturday evening spent sampling some of Belgium's finest Bieres d'Abbaye, Sunday got off to what can best be described as a slow start
About 3PM we decided that even with the aircon running full tilt, the house was getting a bit stifling. So we got the 390 out and aimed the pointy end (complete with prototype new wedge indicator/ sidelamp!) at the Yorkshire Moors. I toyed briefly with the Helmsley road, but reasoning that the usual Sunday hordes of born-again suicide jockeys on bikes would undoubtedly have something to prove, I opted instead for Kildale/ Commondale/ Castleton/ Lealholm and the coast.
We positively thundered around the rollercoaster countryside, hardly needing to change gear as the torque did its stuff; a healthy dose of over-run cackle scaring the crap out of sundry yokels as well as their sheep, and after the world's most expensive roast beef sandwich, coffee and a pot of tea (TEN QUID FFS!!) in Lealholm we headed east to the coast road. Bored with overtaking the snoozing Teesside hordes homeward bound from Whitby, we detoured past Grinkle Park to that delightful hovel of Carlin How and the Skinningrove steelworks. Somewhere along the route a black Golf GTI joined the foray, and much of the world's oil reserves were expended in showing it a clean powerband, with the resultant comment from a white-knuckled Julie that I might inform her whenever I was about to 'throw the Turbo switch'. I informed her that the V8 has no need of such accoutrements, and received an icy glare.
The Parkway past Middlesbrough was dispatched with equal verve: the guy on the Yamaha 600 must have thought he'd lost a couple of cylinders - or maybe he had, such was the way he disappeared in the mirror
Maybe I do him a disservice: perhaps he's only 3 points away from a ban... A quiet half-hour was then spent in watching fish leaping from the Tees - who'd have thought that the black slimy river of my youth would be this enjoyable! - before a final short cruise homeward.
As we rolled back into Wedg1e Villas the odometer ticked over the 100 miles: something in excess of 17 mpg for the trip.
A sports car, a shapely blonde and a summer's day: it's still enough to gladden a man's heart.
Ian
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