General

American Muscle

I felt quite inadequate this morning. There is one, I repeat, ONE spot in my whole damn commute where the lane divides into two lanes and you can safely get around slow traffic. In the left-hand lane was a people-carrier towing a small trailer filled with garden implements, lumber, etc. In the right-hand lane, my little Peugeot, with me flogging the ass off of it trying to pass it before my lane ran out. I didn’t make it.

And yes, of course the van immediately slowed down to ten miles below the speed limit. Bastard.

This weekend I saw a car that made me quite nostalgic: a late sixties left-hand drive convertible Mustang, perfectly restored. You could hear the deep rumble of the engine for blocks. Of course, he probably had to stop for petrol every six blocks, but it was still gorgeous. It was like a Alsatian amongst poodles. :)

Work was busybusybusy. The copywriter/whiner finally got a temp approved for a few days to take care of his data entry. What the hell? As Phil said, he’ll be MY boss before too long. Jesus. If I knew they were passing out body slaves and hand-holders, I would have asked for my own.

But otherwise, things are very good. :)

One Comment

  • wandringsoul

    It’s a 1.9 turbo diesel – you don’t have to flog the ass off it, you just have to use the revs a bit higher than a petrol engined car…it’s quite nippy actually…ok – not quite as nippy as mine, but nonetheless.

    As for deep rumbles – you can’t beat the sound of a TVR Cerbera…

    Woof, woof!

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