TR7

In yesteryear, an engineer, in a far away place, sat as his design table and created the image of a TR7. Where that man is today I cannot say but I do know that one of his design concepts is garaged downstairs. Its age, I can disclose, for it fears not the passing of time. Its sunflower, yellow demeanour outrages the wintry weather for it shines despite the chilly winds and clouds. Over a period of 18 months it was lovingly restored to its former glory. 1981 was a good year for TR7's or so I am led to believe by the one charged with its ownership. Occupants sit low to the ground and they rely on the discrete and subtle placement of a cushion to extend their view over the bonnet. From the passenger seat one may cheerfully relax as the vibrations and roar of the engine prevents conversation. Music provides the interlude for each journey for the TR7 does boast a CD player. I appreciate the sacrifice made to its integrity, however, the music distracts and compliments the notion of the 'Sunday drive.' The car's beauty not measured by remote locking or security devices. Its headlights excite the night as they rise from their hooded home beneath the bonnet. The whirr of the motors that deliver the lights to their full height; a point of fascination for the TR7 novice. No flash air conditioning in the TR7 for that was not needed in its country of origin. Every now and then its stretches its pistons as the Sunday driver takes to the road for a picnic.