115
R. Linda:
I be terribly ashamed I have not written of late (hanging head in shame here). But circumstances have been making my life hectic, and time is not exactly on my side.
First, I was filling in for co-workers who were out with flu. The snow makes getting around impossible since the Department of Public Works isn't exactly ploughing the stuff. They seem too busy plugging the holes in the new tunnels and haven't the manpower to groom the streets. So messy and busy it's been around Beantown.
Then, of course, as you well know, I be packing meself up for the big move to the Arctic Circle. I hope I will not be making a huge mistake in doing this, but the house is lovely, and Tonya is excited and making plans, and I don't want to burst the bubble of happiness by saying I THINK THIS IS A BIGGG MISTAKE THERE MISSIE! So, instead, I keep it all in.
Alrighty then, where to begin? Let me start with my friend, the journalist. He be away somewhere, and in the course of all this, I get a ring from a mutual friend who asks me if I know a certain Jaguar dealership outside of Boston. Well, now, I have seen the adverts for it and have a crazy idea where it is located, and so this I tell him I do indeed know where it is -- kind of. He says the wife is indisposed to drive the vehicle, and could I do her a huge favour and go pick up me friend's new Jaguar since the dealership is close to me. Now all the paperwork is in order, the car is paid in cash no less, and all I have to do is go there, make sure the motor is equipped as faxed paper with the description says it be, and drive it north to her house. Well, I agree because the wife wants the car picked up and doesn't know when the husband be back, so because I be a friend, I am game to do this, and also, I be dying to drive a Jaguar.
I get Tonya to drive me to the dealership in Wellesley. She drops Moi off, and as I walk in the door, there are no less than five people there to greet yours truly. You'd have thought I was King Gotrocks the way they came over asking me if I was Mr. O'Sullivan and such. Well, I was looking at the Ford Mustangs all shiny and fancy on the floor and chatting with these "greeters" when I spied one man coming down the stairs with an outstretched hand to me.
He was dressed in a black turtleneck; a lovely silk suit, and I thought he was the dealership's owner, that he was the real James Bond. Well, lo and behold, he is the Jaguar salesman. THAT showroom is on the THIRD floor. I realised then and there I was in the wrong profession. So, I be introduced to himself, and he takes me up the stairs and as we get to the second-floor landing, there is a luscious red Ferrari parked to my left and a yellow Mazzarati on the other side. I was drooling, but up we go.
We get to the third and last floor, and there is a room full of shiny, expensive Jags. I want to look at them all, but no, we are to his desk, and I was seated in a luxurious leather chair, offered a cigar of the finest make, and Bob's your uncle!
I thought I could do this for a living, picking up people's new Jaguars. Well, the salesman tells me that he will show me the car to make sure it is as stated in the contract and would I like a cup of espresso to be made for when we come back to sign the release papers? Well, R. Linda, I said yes indeed I would love a cup, and he snaps his fingers and off goes this other man to fetch the espressos.
I came to find the Jag was in another room, glass doors separating it from the showroom. It was on a pedestal with a slight ramp to get it up there. Well, the overhead lights made it gleam sleekly, and I was in awe that I was going to be driving THAT machine. It looked like 007's car. It was Midnight Black and had champagne ultra leather seats with dark beige piping, so when I sat in them, I felt like I was in the most luxurious recliner and not in a car at all. It is an S Type R, which goes over 225 mph. This bad boy had a navigation system that talked to you in a British accent! I almost felt like I was home. The thing was fully equipped and had more electronics than an office full of computers. I was dazzled I was, and itching to drive it.
After all the features were explained, heated seats, windscreen features, automatic trans which can be switched to standard if the driver so feels like it, high-performance engine, four-wheel drive that could be changed to two-wheel, CD system to die for, DVD screens front and back, navigation system that will take you anywhere in the U.S, Canada, or Mexico you want (and talks to you in whatever language you prefer), touch screen for adjustments on everything and I could go and on. Oh, and one last thing, you could put the whole system on automatic and it would do whatever needs to be done. Like adjust your lights to the amount of light outside. If there is freezing rain, the windscreen automatically heats up and off goes the freeze. The lumbar supports adjust automatically to the way you are sitting, and a sound system that adjusts to tunnels and such, and even a light shield a flip of a switch brings up like one of the bulletproof shields in a Bond car, not to forget the moon roof can be covered so no light gets in. I could have lived in the damn thing.
We went back to his office, and I sipped the expresso as he went over the paperwork. I saw it all be in order. I signed the release, and the salesman (who has an accent -- by the way, he's from Russia - with love?) informed me he would drive the vehicle down to the front for me. I was escorted downstairs by two other Jaguar people and given over to one of the greeters downstairs. We made small talk when around came the duel exhaust Jag I was about to enjoy. I tell you, R. Linda, if I had $60,000+ I didn't know what to do with, I'd have bought that car!
I got in ready to go, and as I started off, I could feel the power of the sleek black cat. I opened the moon roof a crack and clicked the mesh screen in the back window up. I thought that was the best and I was feeling very James Bond. So I eased her into traffic, and we were doing a sedate 40 mph; as I got onto the highway, I opened her up to 70, and my God, did she want to go! She even roared like a big cat!
I know all this must bore you to death, but for me, it was like being a wee kiddie in a candy shop. I drove it to the journalist's house and reluctantly dropped it off. I hated to drop it off. I felt like I should keep on driving and driving and driving. Alas, I did the right thing and gave over the keys, which aren't keys R. Linda. It was a single prong with an electrode, so it could not be stolen! GOOD GOD, but I be fecking impressed.
SIGH.
I got a ride back home from a friend of a friend. If I close me eyes, I can still feel the power of that gleaming lovely as we glide on the highway as if it were a magic carpet ride. Now, I be back to tooling around in Ton's VW, and I can unequivocally say it is NOT the same. Oh, to dream.
That was Saturday, and Sunday was the ill-fated gallery showing. That I'll write to you about next.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I be terribly ashamed I have not written of late (hanging head in shame here). But circumstances have been making my life hectic, and time is not exactly on my side.
First, I was filling in for co-workers who were out with flu. The snow makes getting around impossible since the Department of Public Works isn't exactly ploughing the stuff. They seem too busy plugging the holes in the new tunnels and haven't the manpower to groom the streets. So messy and busy it's been around Beantown.
Then, of course, as you well know, I be packing meself up for the big move to the Arctic Circle. I hope I will not be making a huge mistake in doing this, but the house is lovely, and Tonya is excited and making plans, and I don't want to burst the bubble of happiness by saying I THINK THIS IS A BIGGG MISTAKE THERE MISSIE! So, instead, I keep it all in.
Alrighty then, where to begin? Let me start with my friend, the journalist. He be away somewhere, and in the course of all this, I get a ring from a mutual friend who asks me if I know a certain Jaguar dealership outside of Boston. Well, now, I have seen the adverts for it and have a crazy idea where it is located, and so this I tell him I do indeed know where it is -- kind of. He says the wife is indisposed to drive the vehicle, and could I do her a huge favour and go pick up me friend's new Jaguar since the dealership is close to me. Now all the paperwork is in order, the car is paid in cash no less, and all I have to do is go there, make sure the motor is equipped as faxed paper with the description says it be, and drive it north to her house. Well, I agree because the wife wants the car picked up and doesn't know when the husband be back, so because I be a friend, I am game to do this, and also, I be dying to drive a Jaguar.
I get Tonya to drive me to the dealership in Wellesley. She drops Moi off, and as I walk in the door, there are no less than five people there to greet yours truly. You'd have thought I was King Gotrocks the way they came over asking me if I was Mr. O'Sullivan and such. Well, I was looking at the Ford Mustangs all shiny and fancy on the floor and chatting with these "greeters" when I spied one man coming down the stairs with an outstretched hand to me.
He was dressed in a black turtleneck; a lovely silk suit, and I thought he was the dealership's owner, that he was the real James Bond. Well, lo and behold, he is the Jaguar salesman. THAT showroom is on the THIRD floor. I realised then and there I was in the wrong profession. So, I be introduced to himself, and he takes me up the stairs and as we get to the second-floor landing, there is a luscious red Ferrari parked to my left and a yellow Mazzarati on the other side. I was drooling, but up we go.
We get to the third and last floor, and there is a room full of shiny, expensive Jags. I want to look at them all, but no, we are to his desk, and I was seated in a luxurious leather chair, offered a cigar of the finest make, and Bob's your uncle!
I thought I could do this for a living, picking up people's new Jaguars. Well, the salesman tells me that he will show me the car to make sure it is as stated in the contract and would I like a cup of espresso to be made for when we come back to sign the release papers? Well, R. Linda, I said yes indeed I would love a cup, and he snaps his fingers and off goes this other man to fetch the espressos.
I came to find the Jag was in another room, glass doors separating it from the showroom. It was on a pedestal with a slight ramp to get it up there. Well, the overhead lights made it gleam sleekly, and I was in awe that I was going to be driving THAT machine. It looked like 007's car. It was Midnight Black and had champagne ultra leather seats with dark beige piping, so when I sat in them, I felt like I was in the most luxurious recliner and not in a car at all. It is an S Type R, which goes over 225 mph. This bad boy had a navigation system that talked to you in a British accent! I almost felt like I was home. The thing was fully equipped and had more electronics than an office full of computers. I was dazzled I was, and itching to drive it.
After all the features were explained, heated seats, windscreen features, automatic trans which can be switched to standard if the driver so feels like it, high-performance engine, four-wheel drive that could be changed to two-wheel, CD system to die for, DVD screens front and back, navigation system that will take you anywhere in the U.S, Canada, or Mexico you want (and talks to you in whatever language you prefer), touch screen for adjustments on everything and I could go and on. Oh, and one last thing, you could put the whole system on automatic and it would do whatever needs to be done. Like adjust your lights to the amount of light outside. If there is freezing rain, the windscreen automatically heats up and off goes the freeze. The lumbar supports adjust automatically to the way you are sitting, and a sound system that adjusts to tunnels and such, and even a light shield a flip of a switch brings up like one of the bulletproof shields in a Bond car, not to forget the moon roof can be covered so no light gets in. I could have lived in the damn thing.
We went back to his office, and I sipped the expresso as he went over the paperwork. I saw it all be in order. I signed the release, and the salesman (who has an accent -- by the way, he's from Russia - with love?) informed me he would drive the vehicle down to the front for me. I was escorted downstairs by two other Jaguar people and given over to one of the greeters downstairs. We made small talk when around came the duel exhaust Jag I was about to enjoy. I tell you, R. Linda, if I had $60,000+ I didn't know what to do with, I'd have bought that car!
I got in ready to go, and as I started off, I could feel the power of the sleek black cat. I opened the moon roof a crack and clicked the mesh screen in the back window up. I thought that was the best and I was feeling very James Bond. So I eased her into traffic, and we were doing a sedate 40 mph; as I got onto the highway, I opened her up to 70, and my God, did she want to go! She even roared like a big cat!
I know all this must bore you to death, but for me, it was like being a wee kiddie in a candy shop. I drove it to the journalist's house and reluctantly dropped it off. I hated to drop it off. I felt like I should keep on driving and driving and driving. Alas, I did the right thing and gave over the keys, which aren't keys R. Linda. It was a single prong with an electrode, so it could not be stolen! GOOD GOD, but I be fecking impressed.
SIGH.
I got a ride back home from a friend of a friend. If I close me eyes, I can still feel the power of that gleaming lovely as we glide on the highway as if it were a magic carpet ride. Now, I be back to tooling around in Ton's VW, and I can unequivocally say it is NOT the same. Oh, to dream.
That was Saturday, and Sunday was the ill-fated gallery showing. That I'll write to you about next.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
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