She sailed far and wide in this dream boat.
The exact opposite of a 1960 Coupe de Ville.
Probably not a good thing to be married to a motorhead. Now she knows more. Frighteningly, she likes the Italians.
Yeah. She’s learned that before Ferrari there was Alfa.
And the French.
Life is not fair. The grandest car ever built is one Lady Laird would like to own. Bugatti Royale.
And, God bless us, the antediluvian Americans.
The most stylish monster equipped with headers before NASCAR was even a glimmer in some moonshiner’s eye.
And, shockingly, the aristocratic English, namely Jaguars.
Yeah, beauty interrupts life. Sorry.
We’re still working on the small English, which includes the car that if it actually worked would replace that Coupe de Ville in a second.
MY dream car. If it would only start. And not show instant electrical problems. Why I have an MR2 instead.
But it doesn’t, never did, work.
Ah such things as dreams are made of.
Gorgeous, every one of them. Made for flying down the good roads on a spring afternoon or evening, I’d think. Alfa, RL, do you have good driving roads around you? We are blessed with some great ones. Now I just need the car to match.
You forgave me for not remembering your dogs. So I’ll forgive you for not remembering that I’ve written extensively about driving on some of the best roads in the country for gonzo motorheads. Right here in South Jersey, in the wilds below the bottom of the infamous Turnpike. : )