|Scenery. Colorado. Thursday.|
I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as last year. Why not? The Chrysler has an engine of epic feebleness and cannot sustain 60 mph on climbs which last year's Mustang could canter up at 75 with plenty in reserve. And only a short distance into the seven mile descent on the west side of the Eisenhower tunnel the brakes started juddering in a most alarming manner. No problems last year going down either. I am beginning to suspect that the phrase or saying "Ford Mustang convertible or similar" on National's web site may contain traces of Lie. Since the only apparent similarity between the two vehicles is the fact that they are both convertibles, I shall be sending them a strongly-worded e-mail when I get home. Daimler-Benz couldn't sort out Chrysler, and now they are owned by...
This does not augur well. If they ever give me another one of these terrible machines I shall set fire to it on the first night and then report it stolen.
The brakes had at least returned to normal for the descent of Vail Pass and the astonishing Glenwood Canyon - see last year's report for details. It wasn't really warm enough to take the roof down until lunchtime. "You'll need sunscreen" said a passing hippie with whom I had been chatting after he'd ponced a fag off me. He was right; however the problem arose ten minutes later when some of the wretched stuff dripped off my forehead and into my eyes. I had to do about forty miles barely able to see before finding the Western Slope Vietnam War Memorial Park, where I could sit blinking until vision returned.
|Wagner not included|