Time For Another

…All-American Road Trip.  (To see the actual East/West Coast route options, go here.)  As for the first trip, your choices are limited to cars — in this case, of the 1950s — and women of U.S. origin.

Your car / companion choices are from the following pairings (no swaps or substitutions):

1) 1950 Hudson Hornet
Gillian Anderson


2) 1957 Willys Overland
Jennifer Morrison


3) 1957 Chevrolet Cameo
Connie Britton


4) 1957 Studebaker Silver Hawk 
Mariska Hargitay


5) 1950 Willys Jeepster
Emma Stone


6) 1957 Ford T-Bird

Sarah Shahi


7) 1958 Chevrolet Impala
Winona Ryder


8) 1956 Chevrolet Bel-Air
Ali Larter


9) 1959 Cadillac Eldorado
Diane Neal


10) 1957 Chevrolet Corvette
Ashley Graham

There ya go.  Your choice in Comments.  Mine will appear on Monday.

That’s Better

After my earlier disappointment about the Women Of Aintree not displaying their fine form of previous years, my faith has been restored.  It didn’t take too long before this:

…changed into this:

I do note, however, that the new “stricter” (more-modest) dress code was missed or ignored by some, with the usual results:

I may have to add Aintree (along with Goodwood) to my Britishland Bucket List, purely for anthropological reasons.

Disappointed!

Well, I have to say that so far this year’s Grand National (or “Tanned National” someone called it, because of all the Trumpian fake tannery) at Liverpool’s Aintree track has been pretty much a bust for us Train Smash Women-watchers.  I mean, it just looks like they’re not really trying very hard:

Of course, there have been some close calls:

…and one or two near-misses [sic]

…but let’s hope that things improve as the event progresses, so to speak.

R.I.P. Val

I’m sorry to see that the Big C finally ended the life of Val Kilmer, who I’ve always thought was a fine actor.  If he’d played no other part, his role as the dying Doc Holliday in Tombstone  would make a hell of an acting legacy.  In The Saint, Heat  and even the silly Real Genius:  likewise brilliant.

As for the rest… pick your favorites.

(Apparently, according to some directors, Kilmer could be a total asshole to work with, but I don’t care about that.  Sometimes, talent excuses a few peccadilloes, a.k.a. the Barrymore Exception.)

The New Brazos Tragedy

In an earlier post, I mentioned that I would be selling off a number of my guns to get a better handle on my financial situation.  Several Readers contacted me, and I have to say that pretty much all have been snapped up.  To all those Readers who sent me a request for a list, sorry — but Reader Matt The Polack, who lives here in north Texas, made me an excellent offer for all but one of them and is now the proud owner thereof.  The guns also came with shall we say a substantial quantity of ammo included in the price.

I’m now down to what I consider the bare minimum of rifles — an AK-47, which as my SHTF gun cannot be sold, and my beloved Browning 1885 High Wall .45-70 Govt, which was a gift from you guys back in the day and which although originally included in my to-sell list, I just cannot bring myself to part with.  As I’m unlikely ever to go hunting again, therefore, all my other rifles were redundant and have disappeared from Ye Olde Gunne Sayfe, ditto their boolets from Ye Olde Ammoe Locquere.

Of course, my .22 rifles are not included (because they’re not guns but household commodities, as I never tire of reminding people);  although I did toy with selling the Marlin heavy-barreled varmint rifles, I’ve reconsidered because they are now the only scoped rifles I still own and with my failing Old Fart Eyes, I have to be able to hit something.

My handguns… ah, now I’m faced with a dreadful dilemma.

You see, I really have few (shall we say) extraneous handguns.  All are either needed for self-defense or else plinking — pretty much the same situation as my rifles now are.  I do have a duplicate or two, however, so I’m offering this one up for sale:

It’s a Ruger Single-Six in .22 LR (only;  there’s no .22 Mag swap-out cylinder) which I love, but it’s one of two in the safe.  POR.

The only other handgun I’m considering selling is my Ruger Super Blackhawk in .30 Carbine:

Look;  this is a fun gun.  It’s not really a hunting gun, and obviously not much use as a self-defense piece either.  BUT:  few other guns compare in that the noise is wonderful, the 18″ muzzle-flash impressive, and the recoil out of the 7″-barreled heavy revolver is somewhat less than a .357 Magnum.  If I do sell it — and I’m really torn about it, as you can see — it will carry a hefty price premium, although that price will be somewhat ameliorated by the amount of ammo that would be included in the sale.  (With the M1 Carbine gone — aaargh! — I no longer need to keep any .30 Carbine ammo.) Interested parties should email me for details.

None of my other handguns are for sale, for the simple reason that in addition to their utility, I cannot bear to part with any of them.

Finally, let me provide a humble reminder of my annual fundraiser — the last I hope to ever do — and for which the details are here.  My heartfelt thanks to all who have already contributed.