RAIN OR SHINE?

by Ken Carlton

The decision whether to go to Stowe for the British Invasion was left to the last minute.
Rain clouds threatened all week, but a final check of the weather on the web seemed positive. "Maybe an hour's rain at mid-day, but most likely it will stay north and east".
So Saturday morning Paulette and I packed what little we could into the Jaguar XK120, giving priority to a picnic lunch with some cold Canadian beers and a nice bottle of wine, and a jacket in case of cold.

We smiled to each other, remembering that journeys of previous years, we had been bundled up in down filled winter coats; but not this year. In true 1954 British tradition, the bare arm was hanging out over the door, as we roared our way south.

Past the admiring gaze of the customs inspector, and the waves of the locals, we wound our way through the Adirondaks, the motor at a throaty roar.
I felt a little smug, as we paraded about Stowe, but what the hell, if you cannot show off now and again…well what.

It was an interesting show, and we met many fellow enthusiasts, with Richard Grenon, as usual, aiming for top honours in the competitions.
Afterwards, Daniel Thompson hosted the Jaguar club to cocktails at a cottage by the stream - and life was good; very good.

So it was with regret that, at Paulette's insistence, we headed north at sundown, after all, we prefer to drive during the light, if only to be able to find the parts as they fall off the car.
As we entered the "Notch" it started to sprinkle. As we came down the other side, the rain was in full pour, and us with two little "Brooklands screens" for protection. I couldn't see a thing. I would have pulled over, but I could not see the side of the road, and besides, we all know the trick with an open car is to drive fast between the raindrops.
I followed the red lights of the car in front, and imagined how it must have been at LeMans fifty years ago, as they raced through the night in similar conditions, flying by the seat of their pants; the Jaguars in front.

We reached Jeffersonville, and would have opened the doors to let the water out, but it had already leaked through the floor. Soaked through, we covered the seats and pushed on.
I thought of our motto "Rain or shine", and could only assume that the author has a coupe, as I find little romance in driving in the rain. Fellow motorists no longer gave admiring glances, but only stared in awe. The customs agent had pity in her eyes, especially for Paulette.
Eventually the rain stopped, and the wind dried out our clothing, and as we arrived at home, we could see the stars.

"Rain or shine"? You take the rain; I'll stick with the shine.

© VEA