Tell us something really trivial about your life (Vol 26)
Discussion
Impasse said:
Socks and a bare wrist while I wait in for the lorry to deliver my wheels. Seems to be the safest way forward despite not owning a 1998 Nokia so will have to rely on my sun dial on this cloudy day.
Hangonaminute - Iva, got any Range Rover wheels in the back of your wagon?
In the back of the garage at Chez Dick resides one unused five spoke alloy for a Series 1 Discovery; still in its box.Hangonaminute - Iva, got any Range Rover wheels in the back of your wagon?
Any good?
The 911.
Yes.
My bro wanted a 911 for years and eventually bought a 911SC in the early 80s. I didn't "get it" to begin with but I really liked the acceleration. He was very generous and let me borrow it. Fairly frequently. And then one night I discovered how to drive the 911.
One of our favourite stretches of road was Reading to Sandhurst via Arborfield and Eversley. It took 35 minutes. If you were driving something quick, were lucky with traffic and worked hard you could get it down to 25 minutes. This particular evening I did it in 17 minutes.
The secret, I believe, with the 911, is to give it your complete faith. What I had learned was the car accelerated very well and braked very well. The engine hung out behind the back wheels was a mechanical contradiction but let's deal with that. What I did was to brake far, far later than in any other car I'd driven - insanely late - went into the corner fast but not too fast and got on the gas sooner than I would previously have thought possible. So, just at the crux of the corner I was at a manageable speed for any car whatever its configuration.
That's it: brake late, power on early, get there in half the time. Bingo.
Neither Step Daughter #1's Boxster nor the Cayman that replaced it does it for me. They sort of drive themselves. Nicely made, beautifully balanced, a bit dull. But an older 911 in the écurie would be just marvellous, thanks, sweaty palms, tight nuts, the whole thing. Put it on the list.
Yes.
My bro wanted a 911 for years and eventually bought a 911SC in the early 80s. I didn't "get it" to begin with but I really liked the acceleration. He was very generous and let me borrow it. Fairly frequently. And then one night I discovered how to drive the 911.
One of our favourite stretches of road was Reading to Sandhurst via Arborfield and Eversley. It took 35 minutes. If you were driving something quick, were lucky with traffic and worked hard you could get it down to 25 minutes. This particular evening I did it in 17 minutes.
The secret, I believe, with the 911, is to give it your complete faith. What I had learned was the car accelerated very well and braked very well. The engine hung out behind the back wheels was a mechanical contradiction but let's deal with that. What I did was to brake far, far later than in any other car I'd driven - insanely late - went into the corner fast but not too fast and got on the gas sooner than I would previously have thought possible. So, just at the crux of the corner I was at a manageable speed for any car whatever its configuration.
That's it: brake late, power on early, get there in half the time. Bingo.
Neither Step Daughter #1's Boxster nor the Cayman that replaced it does it for me. They sort of drive themselves. Nicely made, beautifully balanced, a bit dull. But an older 911 in the écurie would be just marvellous, thanks, sweaty palms, tight nuts, the whole thing. Put it on the list.
The other evening I mentioned Barrybados...
I've never been to Barbados but I understand this is almost indistinguishable from the real thing.
Lush.
As opposed to New Medieval.
Even though there wasn't a Kiss Me Quick hat, not even for ready money, I was so carried away I bought an ice cream. It was f
king horrible. I threw it away. I ate the flake of course.
I've never been to Barbados but I understand this is almost indistinguishable from the real thing.
Lush.
As opposed to New Medieval.
Even though there wasn't a Kiss Me Quick hat, not even for ready money, I was so carried away I bought an ice cream. It was f
king horrible. I threw it away. I ate the flake of course.When I just typed PTFE into a table on a drawing the prompt gave me PETE PATEL PATE as suggestions and I immediately had a mental image of Mr Patel in his corner shop reading an order held in one hand while arranging jars of pâté with the other momentarily disconcerted by a request for a 1/16" PTFE 25% glass filled gasket but recovering instantly when he remembered a cousin in that line of work who he was sure could do a deal. Pete Patel his name is. Customer satisfaction is his watchword.
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