Frankenhealey
Jedi Trainee
Offline
As it says on the tin. A new sponsor means the USA package is now $1200 cheaper as the USA/Bahamas shipping is now paid for. Latest date for all paperwork in is mid-November (don't hold me to this but check with the organisers if you're interested) and there are quite a few Healeys now entered as there were in the sixties :cooler:. So issuing a challenge to Healey owners out there with a few dollars in their pockets and a week's worth of holiday left and in the words(ish) of the Bard.
Once more unto the Bahamas Speed Weeks, dear friends, once more;
To test our mettle 'gainst this sun-drenched track.
Whilst in deepest off-season there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest fettling and some polishing:
But when a late autumn blast of competition blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Shelby, Gurney, Moss;
Stiffen the adjustable shocks, summon up the 107 octane,
To be seen to wait like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start line. The game's afoot:
Watch for the starter and upon this Carribbean circuit. Launch!
Cry 'God for Donald, Detroit, and Saint George!'**
And then with Speed Week over, comes quiet reflection
And he that drove on this Week, and sees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'Tomorrow is Bahamas Speed Week'
As old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What times he ran that week. Then shall our names be,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
And in his flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he that day that risked his rep, his car, with us
Shall be our brother;
And other tim'rous Healey owners of Europe & America now-at-home
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not there,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That drove with us; at Bahamas Speed Weeks.
** Insert Saint or Deity of choice
Once more unto the Bahamas Speed Weeks, dear friends, once more;
To test our mettle 'gainst this sun-drenched track.
Whilst in deepest off-season there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest fettling and some polishing:
But when a late autumn blast of competition blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Shelby, Gurney, Moss;
Stiffen the adjustable shocks, summon up the 107 octane,
To be seen to wait like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start line. The game's afoot:
Watch for the starter and upon this Carribbean circuit. Launch!
Cry 'God for Donald, Detroit, and Saint George!'**
And then with Speed Week over, comes quiet reflection
And he that drove on this Week, and sees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'Tomorrow is Bahamas Speed Week'
As old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What times he ran that week. Then shall our names be,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
And in his flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he that day that risked his rep, his car, with us
Shall be our brother;
And other tim'rous Healey owners of Europe & America now-at-home
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not there,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That drove with us; at Bahamas Speed Weeks.
** Insert Saint or Deity of choice