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RETURN OF THE (seven) PHAETON
A Tale of Irritating memoirs and Unmitigated Pleasure
It is January 1999, and I'm lying here in bed in a cold sweat and my thoughts go back several years to when my thing, known as a Dutton Phaeton was working to perfection, WOW! I'd never realised my brains recall capacity was that sharp until now, that one sunny day, when the machine performed perfectly, nothing fell off it, starting first time was the norm, no Goofball had attempted suicide by carving me up, no sheep had jumped out in front of me, all the walls and lamposts had taken the day off, and no Mr Piggy had pulled me over for …...
"Just a routine check Sir",
Yes I recall that I had really enjoyed that single day, that piece of perfection, the memory so vivid, so clear, so absolutely thrilling.
So-oooo do I want to do it again? …..uhmmmmmm Maybe !!
But wait, hold on, slow down…. my brain is panicking, still recalling, still revealing another facet of the thing. I fall asleep, no wonder I was in a cold sweat at that particular moment. Later that evening, my wife Bon asks me why I was so agitated in bed last night, suddenly I remember, and lie about the event, but then reality takes over, yes, I do
remember. I mention the possibility of the things return, she seems to like the idea, even encouraging it. Further thought and discussion on the matter are abruptly interrupted when that bane of the 20th.
Century intrudes upon our discussion ……..the phone, rings.
Next day, Bon reminds me of our conversation the previous evening and I get to thinking. No, this time I actually write down my thoughts on the on the subject and how to improve my chances of another day of unmitigated pleasure. At least I won't forget should the phone ring again during my thought process. I go to check out thingy down the garage and write down all the things I have to do, list all the bits to be chucked out, and all the improvements I have to make to increase my chances of success.
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