By naterisch
10/12/2015
On the Saturday following my closing the deal with the seller, I arranged for a ramp truck to pick up Old Blue. While I have a few friends who loan me race trailers for free, to move a dead car, you have to roll it out of the driveway and winch it up onto the trailer with a come-along. The degree to which seized brakes on a long-dormant car may prevent it from rolling anywhere is hard to ascertain until you actually need to do it, particularly when the car is sitting on four flat tires.
By naterisch
10/04/2015
To be fair, I had only visited New Jersey twice before: Bayonne to ship my 1971 Lotus Europa to Germany, followed by a bus ride and a night departure from McGuire Air Force Base, and three years later, Bayonne again, to pick up the 1976 BMW 2002 that I brought back from Germany.
By naterisch
10/04/2015
There’s no roundabout way to say this, so I’ll just rip the band aid right off: I bought another 2002tii. Yes, that means I now have three: the Chamonix ’72 that’s on the cover of my book, the Polaris ’74 (Otto) that I bought from the doctor a few months ago and am now daily-driving, and this one, a ’73 Baikal blue car.
By naterisch
09/28/2015
All right, all right: I admit that over the years I have achieved a certain reputation for sartorial elegance. Why, certain frustrated observers have lost bar bets trying to determine the last time I was seen wearing a T-shirt, let alone a golf shirt; my farmer’s tan ends at the wrist, although on warmer occasions, I have been known to turn up my long-sleeve cuffs a turn or two.
By naterisch
09/28/2015
There’s a reason why I wasn’t at Oktoberfest, swapping stories and suds with you lovely people, even though New Jersey is in my relative neck of the woods: Nantucket.

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