Ditto on that. I also made a wooden gripper like Moss sells for my since-sold Jag Mk2 and my BN7 (they aren't the same size). I found myself living on the economy in Rome in 1957-58, having the good fortune to be sent down there from Livorno to help staff an APO in the Embassy Annex. We handled the mail for the Army, Air Force and Navy out of that facility. Anyway, I bought a pretty nice MG TF from an Army sergeant and generally parked it at the Embassy (Marine guards there) or in the underground parking garage under my apartment near the train station. If you parked your car on the streets of Rome in that era, it would be entered. Popular trick was to break the vent windows common common on cars of the day. Soon enough I parked my car on the street at night in Rome (likely a female was the motivation) and my copper knock off hammer vanished from the tool box under the hood. Some time later I was at Frank's Garage patronized in that era by the countless Americans living in Rome. One of his young mechanics was given the job of removing the knockoff for the spare tire on my car with a piece off brass and a large hammer. He bloodied his hand in the process. The government thoughtful transported the TF to Brooklyn Army terminal on the MSTS ship that I returned on out of Livorno in June of '58. The guys who picked us up at the port facility where we were to be hauled out to Fort Dix for discharge took mercy and let those of us with cars at the port go over to nearby Fort Hamilton for discharge. I drove the TF back to Ohio on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and must say it was probably the only car I ever owned that never left me standing by the road. Finally to complete my typical windy story, Frank, the owner of Frank's Garage in Rome, was an Italian American who stayed over there after WWII. He was from Oberlin, not far from my hometown, Norwalk, and told me that before the war he bought paint at Perfected Paint, a store in Norwalk that I knew well. That was so cool to me. The TF was bought by some guy in Cleveland only to be succeeded by a very race-weary Porsche 1500 Super that I unwisely returned to Ohio after it spun brake drum in the mountains outside of LaJolla. People in California at this point, 1959, knew what a Porsche was and its value. Not so much in Ohio.
Hi Guest!
Hey - did you know if you click on the title of a thread it will take you to the first unread post since you last visited that thread?
but were afraid to ask: 
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smilie in place of the real @
Pretty Please - add it to our Events forum(s) and add to the calendar! >> 
