In a message dated 6/20/03 3:56:54 PM, Shawn.Luft@COMPLETIONS.BOMBARDIER.COM
writes:

<< My spare tire fell down on the highway yesterday!!  Apparently the bolt
came loose, and somehow the latch un-hooked. >>

Rude awakening, eh?  I think today is Friday, so . . .

One of my earliest cars was a midnight blue Jaguar 3.8S sedan.  I bought it
from an immigrant Limey Jag mechanic who lied in such mellifluous tones that I
believed him.

Anyway, the night I picked up my new jewel, I stopped for gas.  Believe it or
not, as was the custom in those days the gas jockey also checked the oil.  My
first opportunity to bring that mighty DOHC six to life was on one of the
four laners exiting Pittsburgh.  Just as I was wringing it out through a long
sweeper going 70 mph and accelerating, the headlights went out, or so I thought.
Before I could muster curses to the Prince of Darkness, Joseph Lucas, I
realized that, for once, the electrics had not failed, but the gas jockey had.  It
seems the attendant didn't slam the hood enough to latch it and what I had
taken to be darkness was the sight of that midnight blue hood filling the
windscreen.

My plastic Jesus did its duty that fateful night and I managed to slow down
without ramming anyone or going for a ride against the guardrail.  When I had
slowed to about 35, the hood slammed shut.  And I mean SLAMMED!  From full
vertical to burying itself unchecked into the hood opening.

After it was all said and done, the hood opening was bruised and the cowling
crumpled from the overextended hinges.  Still, I can't complain because that
Jag taught me a lot.  I finally learned to admit that British cars suck and I
learned how to get my money back.

George