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Memory Lane. 8/23/2008

I was kind of at a loose end after lunch today, and thought that since I was in the area, I might as well stop by a certain place from my past before heading on towards MV.  I drove the truck over, and pulled up in the entrance of a rather famous workshop.  Famous if you happen to have been born before 1970 that is.  Very old school, very traditional, very me.  The place where I cut my teeth in motor mechanics and the art and science of fixing racing cars and high performance engines.

I walked in, and James gave me a big smile as he recognised me.  I extended my hand for a handshake, but he refused, saying his hand was dirty.  I grabbed his hand anyway, and said I would always shake the hand of any man whose hand was dirty from honest work.  He laughed, and turned back to berating his young mechanic under instruction who was fixing a Jaguar E-Type.

I laughed when I heard James reaming out the young mechanic for misplacing a component or something.  James looked at me and said, “what?” and I replied, through my laughter, “that sounds really familiar”.  James laughed as well, and turned to the young man and said, “28 years ago I was doing the same thing to him as I am doing to you now.  Now stop wasting my time, I have more important things to do and you should have finished this car by now.”

I walked around the workshop, reliving memories from long ago and far away.  From a time when I had a semblance of innocence, and much of my youthful naivete.  I grew up quickly in that place.  James was not necessarily the best teacher, but he gave me some very valuable lessons.

When I worked here, James was well known in regional racing circles.  During my tenure with James and his crew, I worked on Formula 3, Super Saloons, Grand Tourers, Series Production and street racers, not to mention some very exotic supercars.  James never did rally cars for some reason, preferring the precision of tarmac work.  I went to racetracks all over the region with that crew, seeing the world for the first time.  The next time I went out-country, I was a lot more jaded, and rather more cynical.

As I wandered around the place, I realised that some things had changed, and some things stayed the same.  There were a lot more power tools and lifts for one thing.  When I worked there, every car was jacked manually and placed on stands, which meant a lot of time on your back earning your pay.  Yes, you may now may all the prostitute jokes you like.  James’ boys now didn’t have to do very much of that, with cars lifted to a comfortable working height.

On the other hand, the place was still filled with supercars.  Porsches abounded.

The picture directly above is a Gemballa Porsche.  If it means nothing to you, Google is your friend.  There were no Landsharks today, although a couple of 944s were sitting in odd corners of the place.  Also 2 examples of Modena’s finest were there.

I forgot to take a picture of the other one, but just to let you know, it was a 412 Mondial, Ferrari’s 1980’s attempt at producing a practical 2+2 coupe and the very first time Ferrari had offered a road car with ABS.  More poking around also revealed examples of the other contender to the Italian Supercar crown, Lamborghini. 

An Espada, a very brutal, very hard core, 4 liter V-12 from the 70s.  Another 2+2 coupe, it showed that money could buy you style, in spades, but not necessarily reliability or resale value.  Still an all, a very interesting example from Bertone, and car I wouldn’t mind having in the garage, just for people who only know the Countach, Miura, and Diablo to ask “Is that a Lamborghini?”  Okay, fair enough, H.R. Owen made a Sedenca using Jaguar internals which looked a lot like the Espada, but they only made 3 before the oil price hike in 1973, and they weren’t that much more reliable. 

One of the world’s sexiest cars was also there.

 

  

Not quite the correct model, but a close enough relative.  Still as sexy, and brutally functional,  as ever.  Afficianados will realise the badge dates the model well enough.

It was nice renewing my acquaintance with James, and the look of pride in his eyes when I told him where I was now, and what I was doing, was very heart warming.  His curt, ”good”, meant a lot to me.

• Posted in : General
• Author : thesnark

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