Most convertible owners don’t have the balls

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On the way to Vermont I stopped to visit friends near Kingston, NY, and I can’t stop staying here.
Since My last visit, Gareth bought a bright yellow ’73 Triumph Spitfire. Even though it does not have a top and it was 30 something degrees, we took it out for a spin. Hence the blue blanket in the below photo.
You don’t drive it like a modern car. The brakes don’t stop the car as much as they faintly suggest you are no longer accelerating. You must engine brake by down shifting. I used prayer as well.
The car sits so low that I did not see a turn and almost drove into a tree. And I must not have closed the driver’s door because it flew open when I took a corner. Gareth, who is super laid back just stared at me and said, “Really!”
Once you get used to the car, it is loads of fun. You actually get to drive the car, no nanny devices take over the job, such as traction control, power steering, or any safety device whatsoever.
Gareth and I are each over six feet tall and wide of shoulder so we look like two fat kids on a sled.

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