Lug bolts. Really? Whose bright idea was that?

Hey, they're pikers compared to defense procurement contractors. Never mind the $2000 toilet seats in the B-2 bombers--when they were selling the government the F18 Hornet in the 1970s, a journalist discovered that McDonald Douglas was selling special tools to use in removing maintenance access panels. Basically, they were allen wrenches with a plastic handle at one end. Cost to the taxpayer? In excess of $450 per . . .

We just gotta go with lug nuts. It gets darn tiresome comparing someone's intellegence to a box of rocks.

The Gaul ! ! !

Porsches are like beautiful women fun to [...........], but difficult to maintain.

Oh... wait sorry, no I misunderstood.
Yes.... go lug nuts..
Boo .... lug bolts...
[My tinfoil hat fell off there for a second.]

Gauls shmallz.
I'm team Saxon all the way!!!

Crap! We are destined to misunderstand. I thought your complete misunderstanding of my post was deliberate, and in response to my misunderstanding of my own. I thought it was brilliant!

I'm going to go check the mail.

Wha, Matt, who, me

I'm afraid they won't listen: In past threads I've said some uncomplimentary things about Adolph

On the subject of engineering screw-ups:
I can't get the top of my radiator off (PT Cruiser 2003) I have small hands and still can't get in between all the other parts to get ahold of the top and give it that "down and twist" turn.

Also - we rented a car in Florida (Hyundai) and it had a rather large button for the warning flash lights in the center of the dash, right next to the air/heat and other buttons. I mean, how often do you put your emergency flashes on? That button should be off to the side somewhere.

Take note engineers.
We're on to your conspiracy of difficulty.

My father is a retired engineer. He reports he knows nothing of what you speak, and also wants you kids to get off his lawn.

quod erat demonstratum

That one was a long story - I'll try to capsulize:

Porsche owner a work colleague trying to get me to try skiing.
Work colleague very athletic, also a beautiful blonde woman.
It was walking with her (later than this story) and another friend along Manhattan Beach, stopping for a beer at a place she knew, that I met a major boyfriend, and so on.
So we go to Mammoth at Thanksgiving and she has days of skiing bliss and I keep falling in the snow, but have fun.
On the way back to Los Angeles we stop at a cafe and have a snack at 1 or 2 am.
After that we have a flat tire. She gets out and tries to change the tire. I find out my eyes are different than other peoples when she mentions all the stars. What stars? (I have rp).
A car pulls up and it turns out the guys had seen us in the cafe. They put the spare tire on.
We all wave good by.
Something like ten miles later the spare tire goes to hell.
Trucks passing, passing fast.
Time passes.
A person stops, inquires. I give him my Triple A card info (this was before cell phones) and, some long time later, a tow truck shows up, the second savior going to an all night gas station in whatever was the nearest town (I forget).


The kindness of strangers.

Here's a close relative of the car -



Her's was scruffier.

Thanks Osso
Lovely story. I love when strangers are kind.
Here is how I indulged in my pre-mid-life crisis a few years ago:

1979 MGB. God bless Britania. As easy to work on as riding lawnmower.
I'm 6'3. My one of my brother's (the one I helped in OP) is 6'6. Seeing the two of us in that requires some imagination. [hint, we look less awkward with the top down]

The alternate view is that it pays to be blond.

I once owned an mgb gt.
That's another story.

Back to the German thing, I see.
I don't know how many dividends by semi-blondness has paid to me.
The blue eyes probably help.
At least help in my social environment, probably don't help in curbing narcissism.

What year was your MG?

Does it involve hot blondes stranded on the side of the road?
I would love to hear it either way.

Thank you for the ribbon, I will mail half of it to my father, in New York.

Thank you.
I showed my brother this thread last night at the bar, we couldn't stop laughing. Well actually we did stop, but it kept coming up again in conversations.
Good jokes all around.
I let my brother pick the winner, after much discussion and heated debate.

1960's, I forget which year. I had it for a while in the late 70's. It was a white convertible. I named it Flake.

Similar to this except with a rag top:


One sunny day I was tooling along Admiralty Way in Marina del Rey at 50 miles an hour when the hood flipped up totally obscuring the windshield and sort of bending over it. Luckily there weren't a lot of cars at that time of day, and I - heart in mouth - pulled over to the right as far as I could. A policeman showed up, barked at me a bit, then helped me bend the hood back, and followed me home to assure my and other people's safety. Those were about ten scary blocks.

I sold it to some car nut for about the same money I paid for it.