I suppose any 19-year-old college student in the late ’60s sporting his favorite pair of Dingo boots would have been upset to find them unexpectedly ruined while sitting in Western Civ class. A little investigating found the culprit to be my 1964 MGB with a leaking master cylinder. Brake fluid had found its way through…
First off, I have a confession to make. My car’s not really a Triumph. It’s an Austin-Healey 100-6, 1959 vintage. Unlike the proverbial virtuous maid in the sleaze bar, the Healey has seen its share of “Whoas,” and rust, and car abuse. But in early August, I like to sneak out of Pittsburgh with “Dirty Harry,”…
The MG owner stared at the lug nut in his hand and silently cursed the gas station mechanic. He looked back up at the parts store. “Tiny’s Auto Parts.” The words were painted on the storefront window of a narrow brick building, sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a shoe repair. A dusty collection of…
