OK, I'm back in the frigging f****** Turking game. Got HIT Scraper working again. HD. I'm going to unload all the food I bought from my truck (and the 15 spare gallons of gas) and go to the 'market' and
celebrate. But first, I owe
@Janthir a 289 Cobra / GT-350 / SAAB 96 story.
... so, in the mid '60s, my Dad was the Adjutant General at Fort Rucker, Alabama, where the Army trained most of the Huey pilots for Viet Nam. The Adjutant General of an Army facility is: 1.) the officer that a soldiers goes to if the soldier has "a problem" that needs dealing with (e.g., a death in their family for which they need emergency leave, or have any
other problems) and, 2.) is, incidentally, the only officer on an Army facility who can sign the ranking officer's name to a document. It's the AG who, in point of fact, manages an Army for, base, or camp.
Soooooo, "Smokey" Riviezzo was a young Huey pilot-in-training and was
very eager to get down to business in Viet Nam. But it seems - for whatever reason - that his commanding officer refused to assign him. So "Smokey" went to my Dad and complained. My Dad,in turn, asked Smokey's commander in for a little talk. Soon after, Smokey received his transfer orders for Viet Nam.
Smokey was most grateful to my Dad and showed it by taking his 15-year-old me for rides in his 289 Cobra, his GT-350,
and the SAAB. We went for a few long trips in the Cobra, and many a jaunt on the twisty-curvy backwoods near Ft. Rucker. And I must say that I've never felt so bloody safe in a car. If the Cobra needed to stop, it
stopped. And if you wanted to pass a car, you were already
past it a
very few seconds after your foot hit the accelerator pedal. Like, POOF! Great stuff!
"The highest form of sports cars are those that do not have roll-up windows; that, instead, used
side curtains. Those are real sports cars!" [RBC]