My Concourse Special

I obviously love cars. Its a passion. No matter what kind of car it is, if its mine I'll take care of it as if it were a concourse classic special (a concourse is a kind of car exhibit/event where cars are kept in their most pristine and original form either through restoration or simply being kept in very original shape through sheer (meticulous) storage alone. Not an easy thing when you count the time in decades).

Anyway, I count myself lucky that -although my car may not be a priceless classic- its still a special machine: I drive a mark1 Mazda MX-5. A Miata (that's what they're called in the US) if you will. My dear little brat of a roadster is named Tifosi Blanca -rather androgynous sounding I must admit but I do believe my car's a he.

Tifosi and I got started on the long journey to raodster bliss when I aqcuired him as a second hand purchase from a very agreeable Frenchman named Pierre Banex. The car was immaculately stock (no modifications) and had almost no mileage.

Years later (and a host of modifications along the way) you would hardly recognize old little Tif from the moment he first parked in my garage. I love this little sports car. The MX-5 is one of the few sporting cars that are designed and built to traditional sportscar standards: small, light and accessible in both price and performance. Anyone can drive it and feel like a hero.

Speaking of concourse events, it seems my efforts in treating Tif like a real concourse machine has paid off: the Miata Club of the Philipines (MCP) of which I am a proud member, held a concourse event in Splendido Country Club one Christmas. It was exlusively for Miatas. The (then) president even used a photo he snapped of Tif in Subic during one of the race weekends for the invitation.

Guess who won first place.

Cheers.

My Latest Car Article

I had just sent in a car article about a 1969 Camaro to C! Magazine. The car is a 'restomod'. That means that its been restored and modified. The story was originally a very long rticle for C! Magazine. Unfortunately, it had to be edited down due to constraints in the number of pages available. Nonetheless, the story and the layout turned out superlatively and I couldn't have asked for more. People may read the story in the February issue of C! Magazine (available in stands as of the time of this writing). The Ed-in-chief (no less than the famous James Deakin) said that the article was one of the best he'd seen in a long time and (despite the shortening of the story) gave my article a whole lot of room to breathe. His gamble paid off (I think). The owner of the car, Walter Poick, was thrilled when he saw the printed story and said that it was completely spot on. For my part, I'm just extremely pleased to have been given another opportunity to express myself again (although they DID have to er 'censor' my work quite a bit, he, he) and very happy that that the end result was extremely gratifying.

I will continue to write more articles now and I do hope I can find some more interesting (classic) machines to review for C! So, don't forget to grab a copy of this Feb's issue of C! Magazine, available at better magazine stands everywhere.

Cheers!

Bloody Hell. I made a blog.

I just made a blog. Bloody Hell. Absatively amazing. (Yeah, I shamelessly ripped that word off from Neil Gaiman. Or Terry Prachett -or was that one T? Or both of them (I mean the authors not the T's). Who knows?)

I'm not the teckie type so this is quite a big leap for me. L-E-A-P. Leap.

My partner (in an IT company that bizarrely, I partly own) said that I should write a blog. So. There it is. Actually (considering my relatively tender age) I'm a bit 'traditional' in my usage of technology. I believe that all that teckie stuff should be left to all those boffins wearing white lab coats. Ha, ha indeed. I've gotten used to people doing all that teckie stuff for me since I'm ususally very busy. Yeah I'm sure that's it. I'm a very busy man. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Well, that's my excuse.

Oh right, I was saying why my partner suggested the blog.

He says that I can write (apparently). Actually, I do write. For a magazine. A car magazine. Its about cars. Yep. My style (as you may have surmised despite the subtlety of my technique) is based upon a (rather) absurd and cynical, well, style. I think that people put too much emphasis on doing things that'll look good to other people. Safe if you will. Everybody will say 'hey that's pretty good' all round. I like to write with more of an edge. I'm not saying its for everybody, but if you're smart enough, you'll find it quite liberating to see things my way (cue diabolical laughter).

That's the reason why I can't do the news. (Well maybe if I really tried..)

Okay, that's just my intro. More like an apology really.

Now. Something smart to say.

Lets talk about global warming. People say its why there's a lot of rain lately. While it all seems very weird and strange that a concept called 'global warming' is responsible for-

No, you're right. It IS boring. Lets just all buy hybrid cars and be done with it.

How about nature? I love the great outdoors (even if I don't really like being outdoors). But there's something about nature -the wildness of it- that really attracts me. Its all so simple. Draw a parallelism with our own seemingly complicated lives and you may see similarities. Frightening similarities. Predator and prey. Survival of the fittest. All those Darwinist concepts that govern the flora and fauna of the natural world have an uncanny resemblance with the microcosm (I like that word) that we 'homo sapien primates' have created -no invented- to govern our 'civilized' lives. (I'm guessing that if you're reading this you're sitting in front of a computer. Other wise, I'm pretty sure it'll be hard to access this blog from a cave or a burrow with only a vast network of plant roots to double as wiring. That means you're part of what we call 'civilized'.)

Just think about it. Are you a predator? Or prey? (If you're not Arnold, I suppose being the 'predator' is loads cooler. And you get great gear in the process. And you can get proper plastic surgery if you can't stand looking in the mirror. Or you can simply break the mirror. Either way, you'll probably get the same lie from your mother everytime you ask her how good you look.)

Cheers. And bloody hell. (cue remaining diabolical laughter)