The importance of patience.

There’s a restaurant close to the house that has a pretty good selection of beers and a solid, basic menu of burgers and a few salads. Jenny and I will head over when we don’t feel like cooking or when she’s in a burger space.

We wound up at Dukes last night and long/short, I left my wallet behind, discovering this as we were both leaving for work. I three- pointed back to the house, lowering my window and telling her that the most vital thing was missing and I was heading back to find it. A half hour later, I’d called off and I was in a foul mood, unable to find the wretched thing, the only possibility being I left it behind at Dukes. I called the place and left a message, telling myself that I’d head over if no call back.

I was there at eleven, walking into the place past the hachi parked in front of the door. The kid behind the bar asked what I was drinking and I told him I was here to check after my wallet. He walked to the office to check, but it was still locked. “She’ll be here soon”.

I took a barstool, knowing I wouldn’t be going in today, the majority of work doable from home. I started with a golden milk stout from Faction. I asked how it was and the kid, allowed that while he doesn’t drink, people say it’s good, followed by a masked nod that reminded me very much of a character in an Anime. I smiled and told the kid that he reminded me of such with that waggle, and was the hachi his?

While it started life as a normal 86, he’d done an engine transplant, stuffing a five-valve into it and learning a lot as he went along, very much like the generations of gearheads before him.

I pulled up a picture of my old MK2 Celica Supra and showed it to him and then we found ourselves talking about the origin of the Supra nameplate and how it originated with the Celica, which he was completely unaware of- not the Celica itself, but how the Supra came to be. Not sprung fully formed as from a God’s forehead, but the subject of development and refinement that terminated in the MK4 Supra. Afaic, the MK5 is a BMW. No Yamaha involvement? No Toyota.

The talk turned to auto industries and what other nations had manufactured cars- he was very definitely aware of Japan and Germany and of course, the U.S., but had no clue that Britain was once a leading manufacturer, that France has always made delightfully oddball cars and that India has a motor industry all its own.

Jaray and Ledwinka got mentions from me for the influence they both had on modern auto design, why the Corvair was ultimately unsuccessful and how Ferrari and Lamborghini had a spat that resulted in Ferrucio making his own car.

“Spite cars”! J. chortled, walking an order from the window to a table, returning to the bar, wondering where we left off.

During the pauses when J. was helping customers,  I wondered at the lack of knowledge that he had regarding the span of automotive history. What I found very cool was that he was genuinely curious and wanted to fill those gaps with stories and facts regarding our shared passion and I was more than happy to share my knowledge with him, and he’d inspired me to continue writing and posting in this blog, sharing things that are common knowledge for my generation but not well known to our successors.

The rush, and his shift was winding down. As he was tipping out, I asked to see his install before he left.

He was a bit shy for it, fearful of criticism, but I saw a pretty clean install, like so many of our early installations, propelled by enthusiasm and whatever was around.

“Looks like you’re saving weight” I said, gesturing to the tiny AGM battery that was in the tray normally occupied by a 35. He nodded, remembering his joking about keeping the car empty of gas for lightness. I concluded our visit, walking inside to my beer and a quieter restaurant and resolving to make this blog a livelier place.

Thanks, J. It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance and I’m hopeful that my content will help expand your enthusiasm.