It's Sunday. It's the first Sunday of the month. That means it's TVR Car Club meeting day (also known as the secret noisy car society where nothing gets publicised but everybody knows somehow).
I've arranged to meet up with Jim and Eric for a wee run through. Dave isn't going again - he has various levels of shit to deal with and far, far bigger priorities.
So the day dawns bright and sunny... no wait a minute, I meant dank and foggy - that kind of fog that sticks to you and soaks you through before you even know you're wet. At least rain is honest and batters you face-on... But not to be deterred, I put the roof on in the garage and then drive out into the (just) daylight - whereupon the windows steam up instantly - on the outside! Garage locked and off I go, with a wee stop for E5 fuel along the way. The gauge says that I have enough to get there and back, but it's more like a political poll, so it lies consistently, and I don't fancy the ignominy of being stranded for fuel and being rescued by a passing camper van.
When I reach our meeting spot at Maccy D's it's absolutely heaving (the car park, not the customers, that comes later) and I'm lucky to get the last space. I'm early though so it has cleared a wee bit by the time that Eric and then Jim arrive. The weather has also cleared a bit, but not enough to encourage roof-off driving - not for me anyway, Jim is a hero so he is topless.
Off we go - time dictates that it has to be a straight batter along the motorway, our new venue has limited parking, so you have to be there early or park out on the main road. When we arrive, there are only 2 other TVRs there - Hamish (of course) who uses his daily, and a Tuscan. John arrives shortly after us, and that's yer lot - everybody else has arrived in "day cars".
Conversations over lunch cover a wide range, including our last trip, our upcoming trip in June and Jim's ability to book, erm, "interesting" places to stay overnight, and the need to book, or not book, ferries (the conclusion of which remains unclear to this day). We also discuss militant cyclists, tricky roads and eejit drivers, including the growing propensity for people to come tearing past you on motorways and dual carriageways, and then slice across two or three lanes right in front of you, to go down a slip road. There's a dual carriageway through the middle of my wee town and you can't go from end to end without some clown trying to commit suicide on your front bumper.
Anyway, it's all very pleasant, the meal is nice, the chat is good, and before we realise it, it's time to go home - after remembering (just!) to pay for the food.
First though, the roof has to come off - it's now dry, and relatively warm (a lot better than this morning!)
We head back the way we came, with Jim in the lead - back along the motorway. I decide to turn off one junction early (where Jim and Eric would turn off anyway) just so that I can try a bit of "driving" instead of "just cruising". Big mistake. Biiiig mistake. From just after the motorway junction, I join a snail's funeral which stretches into the distance (well, about a dozen cars) to a wee white 900cc shitbox being driven by Mr Magoo with a 1959 AA road atlas. Nobody overtakes, they just crawl along. The car right in front of me is a Hyundai something-or-other that can't even keep up with that stuttering procession - huge gaps open up, so that by the time we have gone through a roundabout and a set of traffic lights, the monopod's funeral has disappeared over the horizon...
This bit of road has a 50 mph limit and traffic islands every couple of hundred yards, so I'm forced to just follow... so no testing of mid-rev pulling power, but I do now know that it pulls well from low speeds in high gears...
So we're home, no sign of any leaks, but a throw a bit of cardboard underneath when I park up, just to check tomorrow.