Getting 'Mills across the pond
Eventually, Uncle Sam determined that I had entirely too much fun in the UK, and decided to
ship me to the Florida panhandle. I fretted about how to get the truck into the US, then did
some Customs research. It seems that since she is a 1962, my worries were solved! Piece of
cake!
When it came time to drive the girl to Southampton to catch the ferry to the US, it was indeed
an intriguing journey. About an hour into the trip, the CD player took what seemed like
a minor lightning strike, and started smoking (see above - no fuze). It seems that a secondary
effect was to wipe out all the interal lighting, so I drove around the orbital and down the M6
with a mag lite in my teeth, alternating between the fuel gauge and the speedo. I finally
made it to the docks, and dropped her off. That was the last I saw of her until I got
to Florida.
The fellows at the Jacksonville, FL, port apparently had no clue how to start her, so they
hot wired her, destroying the ignition in the process, and causing all the gauges to fail.
And someone along the way decided it would be a keen idea to nick the burnt up stereo too. So
that left me a 9-hour drive in 100 deg weather with no idea how much gas I had, no clue on the
speed, and worse - no lights or indicators! When I finally got home, the truck was happy, but
I was a disaster, and my nerves were worse. I passed out with a bottle of jack, sitting 3 feet
from the AC vent in the room.
After I had recovered (from the drive, that is...) I discovered another little sticking point.
With the whoop-ass roof rack, she sat too high to get into the garage. And besides, this being
Florida, she was begging to go topless! So, with some strong pals and a boatload of PB, I got
the roof off and into the backyard, officially gaining stature with my neighbors that I was
a redneck, and we would get along fine.
Come watch the Babe Lost in the Woods
created and maintained by Matt Atkins
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