Classic Van & Pick-up Magazine - Vol.14 No.6 AUSTIN RESCUE Edição anterior

Classic Van & Pick-up Magazine Vol.14 No.6 AUSTIN RESCUE Edição anterior

English

IF you were given the choice of being anywhere
in the world, what would you go for? What would
give you the ultimate pleasure? A couple of
weeks in the Bahamas, maybe? Or a weekend at
a highly-exclusive, luxury hotel with a banquet
thrown in (not literally, I’m not that much of
a savage)? Or a trip to Harrods with an open
cheque book? Hmm. Now it’s my turn, go
on, ask me. What ranks as one of my all-time
favourite activities? The answer is autojumbles. I
absolutely love them and genuinely and honestly
cannot think of a better way to spend a day.
Exactly why I enjoy them so much isn’t a clear-cut
matter. It’s a combination of factors – the giant hot dogs
and tepid tea are, to me, culinary treasures. The fact
that I’m in the open air means I don’t have to worry
about table manners or where the tomato sauce ends
up (I am slightly worried about giving the impression
that I am totally uncouth – but I also prefer to tell the
truth). The stalls are like little treasure troves, to me. I
generally avoid the stuff being sold by traders because if
I wanted to buy new products, I’d go to a shop. Instead,
it’s the piles of nuts, bolts and bits that do it for me.
They hold this
inexplicablyweird
fascination.
It isn’t just
car jumbles that
attract me, I also derive incredible pleasure from those
organized for bikers. I don’t have a bike at the moment,
but I still had to attend an autojumble one weekend
because, well, it was on and I was available.
I should have said “didn’t have a bike” because I
bought one. It’s only a tiddler, which suits me because
I’m getting a bit crotchety and heaving around big
Triumphs etc just ain’t my game any more. But it’s
British, all there and in need of little more than
cosmetics. Which means I can now spend a bit of time
in another of my favourite places – my shed.
I am a fully paid-up member of the Geeks and
Anoraks Society and not only couldn’t give a stuff, but
am almightily proud of it. Sometimes, it’s great being a
greasy old geezer.

Classic Van & Pick-up

Vol.14 No.6 AUSTIN RESCUE IF you were given the choice of being anywhere in the world, what would you go for? What would give you the ultimate pleasure? A couple of weeks in the Bahamas, maybe? Or a weekend at a highly-exclusive, luxury hotel with a banquet thrown in (not literally, I’m not that much of a savage)? Or a trip to Harrods with an open cheque book? Hmm. Now it’s my turn, go on, ask me. What ranks as one of my all-time favourite activities? The answer is autojumbles. I absolutely love them and genuinely and honestly cannot think of a better way to spend a day. Exactly why I enjoy them so much isn’t a clear-cut matter. It’s a combination of factors – the giant hot dogs and tepid tea are, to me, culinary treasures. The fact that I’m in the open air means I don’t have to worry about table manners or where the tomato sauce ends up (I am slightly worried about giving the impression that I am totally uncouth – but I also prefer to tell the truth). The stalls are like little treasure troves, to me. I generally avoid the stuff being sold by traders because if I wanted to buy new products, I’d go to a shop. Instead, it’s the piles of nuts, bolts and bits that do it for me. They hold this inexplicablyweird fascination. It isn’t just car jumbles that attract me, I also derive incredible pleasure from those organized for bikers. I don’t have a bike at the moment, but I still had to attend an autojumble one weekend because, well, it was on and I was available. I should have said “didn’t have a bike” because I bought one. It’s only a tiddler, which suits me because I’m getting a bit crotchety and heaving around big Triumphs etc just ain’t my game any more. But it’s British, all there and in need of little more than cosmetics. Which means I can now spend a bit of time in another of my favourite places – my shed. I am a fully paid-up member of the Geeks and Anoraks Society and not only couldn’t give a stuff, but am almightily proud of it. Sometimes, it’s great being a greasy old geezer.

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