[DeTomaso] Why did I wait so long........

[Julian Kift]

Having now made a commitment to Mark Charlton for him to ride shotgun in Monterey and yesterday also having purchased a Concorso Italiano ticket, last night I thought I'd better check I have a car to take! It's been well over 9 months since the GT5 has seen the light of day, in fact I can't actually recall when I drove it last, not since I started the new job last October, so in all honesty probably Monterey last year!

I dug my way through all the crap that had accumulated in that space between the front of it and the garage door, moving a scooter (pit bike) that didn't want to start, with thoughts of “so this is the way the evening is going to go” already crossing my mind… I ducked and shimmied myself between the car and lift careful not to bump my head, which I have done so many times I've lost count and I’m sure I have a permanent dimple to prove it (some might say brain damage). I disconnected the trickle charger, pulled the cover and even more awkwardly squeezed into the car with the driver’s door partially open, feet first into the foot well. Once in it felt much like it does pulling on my helmet at the race track; snug and reassuring with a sense of anticipation and trace of nervousness. It took a little time to prime the carb via the mechanical pump, but eventually she sputtered into life, quickly filling the garage with those ever recognizable fumes of overly rich partially burnt gas mixed with accumulated cobwebs/dust being burnt off of hot surfaces.

Carefully I edged her out of the garage and just sat and savored the moment while she got warm enough to idle, albeit somewhat rough, kind of like an old man the morning after a night of debauchery. I ran inside to find the registration tag and insurance card to replace those that had long since expired. Finally laid my hands on the tag, right along with the new plates; WTF why do I need mandatory replacement plates on my cars every 7 years? That’s the craziest money grabbing stint ever heard of; but wait, Nevada has transitioned back to stamped plates that the prisoners crank out rather than the decal style (which they introduced to save money at the prisons). They do look so much better, so I shouldn’t complain for $7 a pair and I get a garage wall ornament of the old plates to boot. I digress, and my car is idling in the driveway, waiting like the caged Panther it is to be released into its predatory hunting grounds, ready to pounce on unsuspecting coffee can rice burners that have a notion that a 70’s car can’t be both fast and cool.

But this is no ordinary 70’s styling (albeit in my case with a touch of 80's flare - literally); I can feel the heads turning, eyes staring as soon as I round the corner from my neighborhood onto the main street. A guy in a big RAM truck rolls coal from his diesel pulling away from the first light in an effort to impress me. I cut through that crap in an instant and leave him wondering. The lights are against me as we pull up to the next one and he’s rolling down his window excited like a kid at Christmas, I honestly at one point thought he may be going to propose he was so enamored.

The other side I have a Jeep SR8, the Pantera is physically rocking as the idle is set a little low, I feather the throttle and it’s enough to make him think twice, maybe he had seen what happened to the RAM, sheepishly he pulls away (ewe that was a bad pun).

It’s a similar story at each light, I’m wondering if some whizz kid out there has an app that changes lights to red just to get another glimpse of this beauty. I look in the rear view mirror and over the vibrating air cleaner I see the Lexus behind me has a Mom driving and son in the passenger seat both with their noses stuck to the windshield, tongues hanging out and eyes squinting trying to read the script on the rear of the Pantera. I don’t know if they got it, but if that kid wasn’t the one with the traffic light app I’m damn sure he’s on Google now and we are about to have one more convert to the fold.

I pull into the small mall and there’s a flurry of activity, smart phones come out faster than I can answer the questions. Its amazing kids nowadays can draw a smartphone, take a photo and upload it to Facebook quicker than a cowboy could get his finger on the trigger of a six shooter. But I’m not here to showboat; this is a grocery run, well sort of, more the precooked variety, aka fast food. I’m in line and a guy starts showing me photos of his buddies GT40, yes I have one of those too! We continue the car related chat out into the parking lot and part ways new friends, who said gasoline cars are a dying breed, there’s nothing to get excited about an electric motor! (Ooh another more subtle pun). I linger as the final few get there photo shot from just the right angle, after all who wants to be tagged in a less than perfect photo on FB!

I head home via the Freeway to be able to open her up a little, but the downside is it’s over all too soon, before I know it I'm home and eating dinner. Man that Panda Express tasted good….not because it’s a quality meal simply because of the pleasure it brought me to be out in the Pantera again, why did I wait so long dammit!

Who the f*^k said fast food isn’t good for you!


Julian
-------------- next part --------------
   Having now made a commitment to Mark Charlton for him to ride shotgun
   in Monterey and yesterday also having purchased a Concorso Italiano
   ticket, last night I thought I'd better check I have a car to take!
   It's been well over 9 months since the GT5 has seen the light of day,
   in fact I can't actually recall when I drove it last, not since I
   started the new job last October, so in all honesty probably Monterey
   last year!
   I dug my way through all the crap that had accumulated in that space
   between the front of it and the garage door, moving a scooter (pit
   bike) that didn't want to start, with thoughts of "so this is the way
   the evening is going to go" already crossing my mind... I ducked and
   shimmied myself between the car and lift careful not to bump my head,
   which I have done so many times I've lost count and I'm sure I have a
   permanent dimple to prove it (some might say brain damage). I
   disconnected the trickle charger, pulled the cover and even more
   awkwardly squeezed into the car with the driver's door partially open,
   feet first into the foot well. Once in it felt much like it does
   pulling on my helmet at the race track; snug and reassuring with a
   sense of anticipation and trace of nervousness. It took a little time
   to prime the carb via the mechanical pump, but eventually she sputtered
   into life, quickly filling the garage with those ever recognizable
   fumes of overly rich partially burnt gas mixed with accumulated
   cobwebs/dust being burnt off of hot surfaces.
   Carefully I edged her out of the garage and just sat and savored the
   moment while she got warm enough to idle, albeit somewhat rough, kind
   of like an old man the morning after a night of debauchery. I ran
   inside to find the registration tag and insurance card to replace those
   that had long since expired. Finally laid my hands on the tag, right
   along with the new plates; WTF why do I need mandatory replacement
   plates on my cars every 7 years? That's the craziest money grabbing
   stint ever heard of; but wait, Nevada has transitioned back to stamped
   plates that the prisoners crank out rather than the decal style (which
   they introduced to save money at the prisons). They do look so much
   better, so I shouldn't complain for $7 a pair and I get a garage wall
   ornament of the old plates to boot. I digress, and my car is idling in
   the driveway, waiting like the caged Panther it is to be released into
   its predatory hunting grounds, ready to pounce on unsuspecting coffee
   can rice burners that have a notion that a 70's car can't be both fast
   and cool.
   But this is no ordinary 70's styling (albeit in my case with a touch of
   80's flare - literally); I can feel the heads turning, eyes staring as
   soon as I round the corner from my neighborhood onto the main street. A
   guy in a big RAM truck rolls coal from his diesel pulling away from the
   first light in an effort to impress me. I cut through that crap in an
   instant and leave him wondering. The lights are against me as we pull
   up to the next one and he's rolling down his window excited like a kid
   at Christmas, I honestly at one point thought he may be going to
   propose he was so enamored.
   The other side I have a Jeep SR8, the Pantera is physically rocking as
   the idle is set a little low, I feather the throttle and it's enough to
   make him think twice, maybe he had seen what happened to the RAM,
   sheepishly he pulls away (ewe that was a bad pun).
   It's a similar story at each light, I'm wondering if some whizz kid out
   there has an app that changes lights to red just to get another glimpse
   of this beauty. I look in the rear view mirror and over the vibrating
   air cleaner I see the Lexus behind me has a Mom driving and son in the
   passenger seat both with their noses stuck to the windshield, tongues
   hanging out and eyes squinting trying to read the script on the rear of
   the Pantera. I don't know if they got it, but if that kid wasn't the
   one with the traffic light app I'm damn sure he's on Google now and we
   are about to have one more convert to the fold.
   I pull into the small mall and there's a flurry of activity, smart
   phones come out faster than I can answer the questions. Its amazing
   kids nowadays can draw a smartphone, take a photo and upload it to
   Facebook quicker than a cowboy could get his finger on the trigger of a
   six shooter. But I'm not here to showboat; this is a grocery run, well
   sort of, more the precooked variety, aka fast food. I'm in line and a
   guy starts showing me photos of his buddies GT40, yes I have one of
   those too! We continue the car related chat out into the parking lot
   and part ways new friends, who said gasoline cars are a dying breed,
   there's nothing to get excited about an electric motor! (Ooh another
   more subtle pun). I linger as the final few get there photo shot from
   just the right angle, after all who wants to be tagged in a less than
   perfect photo on FB!
   I head home via the Freeway to be able to open her up a little, but the
   downside is it's over all too soon, before I know it I'm home and
   eating dinner. Man that Panda Express tasted good....not because it's a
   quality meal simply because of the pleasure it brought me to be out in
   the Pantera again, why did I wait so long dammit!
   Who the f*^k said fast food isn't good for you!

   Julian