It's TVR Car Club day! And here's me without a TVR. Well that's not strictly true - it's along at the farm still in its post-rainy-Skye spotty and dusty livery. I swapped it with the Porsche so that it could get some exercise too.
So my choices are:
Go to the TVR meeting in the Porsche;
Go in the Range Rover seeing as it's going to rain;
Get up early and swap the TVR back here, but wake up the moaning cow who now lives beside the farm;
Swap the Chevy back here but ditto regarding the moaning cow but with bells on;
Get a lift from someone else;
Not go at all.
I haven't told you about moaning cow, have I? Well, remember I said around 18 months ago that the farm had been sold? Well the new owner doesn't live there, he lives just down the road. That left a big farmhouse empty for a while, although there are a couple of families who live in wee cottages beside it. So, he finally managed to get a tenant into the farm house, and while he seems to be ok, his Mrs seems to complain to the owner about everything.
So this one time (not at band camp) around 3 months ago I was taking the Chevy out to bring it back to the house for a wee repair. To get it out of the stable, I have to take out whatever other car is in there first - so I moved out the TVR, then the Chevy, then put the TVR back in and brought the Chevy home. OK so far.
When I take it back, Jock tells me that Mrs moaning cow has phoned the owner to complain about the noise of all these cars moving around at 10am on a weekday. Now I don't want to be a bad neighbour, they live there and I don't, so I don't go at antisocial hours etc, so I decide that I need to refresh what the rules are. George the owner comes over and tells me that I'm fine and not to worry.
Nevertheless, point made, I'll be careful about times and noise etc (as I always have been, but still...)
The following week, I went along in the Range Rover for some reason (I can't remember what, but it was a quick visit - maybe putting a battery charger on one of the cars or collecting something I forgot) and although it was half-way through the day, I decided not to drive past the farm house on the gravel, but to park in the visitor spaces and walk through the farm yard to the shed. Open shed, do whatever for a couple of minutes, shut shed, walk back to Range Rover, say hello to guy unloading shopping from the car beside mine, drive away.
When I went back the next day, Jock tells me that shse's dobbed me in to the farm owner again for parking in "her space". This is a huge area of chippings with no markings or signs, that I've been using for 17 years with no problems. Not any more...
I really can't be arsed with it. Neither can the farm owner. Continue as normal...
Anyway, back to today... after a quick call with Jim, the decision is - go in the Porsche.
We meet up outside our favourite Maccy D's (that's favourite in terms of location - not that their food is any better than the shite they serve elsewhere), and surprise, surprise! We have a passenger for the day - it's Dave who has earned a day pass! He travels with Eric, Jim has his V8S and I have a glorified VW Beetle with a clock that's 2 minutes slow so I am two minutes late. Much hilarity ensues about pre-flight checks and procrastination...
After the usual preliminary insults, we set off on a wee run around the same route as last month. I'm glad I have a sunroof that I can open and shut on the
move, as the rain starts and stops.
Hugh arrives just after us. There's also a nice-looking Cerbera - despite knowing their bankruptcy-inducing habits, I still like them.
I also like this though - it's a Tamora, which is like an S-Series for the 21st century. This one is lovely...
and it has a sensible interior, some of them were specced with horrible combinations of carpet and trim... Yep, if anything was going to tempt me from an
S-Series, this might do it!
I remember when we all used to turn up to these meetings and talk about cars and motoring tales of derring-do... it's a sad sign that a lot of today's conversation is about various health issues, past and upcoming operations, and hospital escapades. We sound like a group of grannies in a care home, but with exhaust fumes.
Back in the Beetle for the drive home!
