From Longtime Reader Chaz (who had obviously taken his Grumpy Pill earlier), I got this response to yesterday’s post about driving around Italy with a gorgeous actress by your side:
As the son of an actress and a barrister, born to the stage, I have to tell you that the very idea of being obliged to drive an actress, any actress, the length of a country, any country, in a car, any car, is for me a much less than appealing prospect.
Damn it all, man, most of your cars don’t even have a back seat for her to back-seat-drive from.
Were I blackmailed or otherwise coerced into doing this I would select the fastest car and get the whole wretched business over as quickly as possible. Whichever actress came with the car could jolly well keep schtum or ride the rest of the way in the trunk (note effortless use of correct US terminology).
My choice (definitely assuming your stipulation of ‘no breakdowns’) would be the Alvis Stalwart.
And ideally no passengers. One of my recurrent nightmares used to be that of being confined for a fortnight to a compartment on the Trans-Siberian Railway with the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu. As the poor fellow is no longer with us perhaps this one will now subside.
It had me howling with laughter all the way through.
Especially at the vision of Chaz trying to maneuver the Stalwart through some of those teeny Italian village streets…
I understand the problems associated with actresses (having been once married to one) and the exasperating experience of highly-strung, unreliable old cars (former Fiat driver), but none of that compares to the absolute joy of piloting either of them at full speed, so to speak. In other words, it would be well worth the hassle.
All that said, I nearly wimped out with my choice because, as y’all know, it’s an unbelievably difficult choice: which gorgeous car? which gorgeous woman? It’s a conjoint analysis with so many factors…
…but Gina Lollobrigida and the Austin-Healey combine throbbing sexuality with throbbing automotive power, so #3 ends up being my ultimate choice.
Next Sunday’s post will feature a similar set of gut-wrenching choices.
