We saw red-tailed hawks soaring above. Magnificent. We talked about how great it would be to be a bird. Eating field mice for dinner doesn't sound too appetizing, but as in flying on a commercial airline, the views and speed of travel outweigh the unappetizing food.
Birds were everywhere. White-barked sycamore trees lined the banks of a stream and you could tell where it meandered through the fields by the trees along its banks.
A lovely mare, alone in her pasture, watched us from a high place. I called to her and she galloped to the fence for some horse whispering and scratching between the ears. She was clearly very lonely and reeking from having rolled in a messy spot in the field (see side view of head). But we were friends for that little while and she seemed sad as we continued down the road toward home base.
To understand how big of a statement that is for me to make, you must know I am not a car person; I drive a Toyota. Function, affordability and reliability are all cars have ever been to me.
Several years of dating cars and their men eliminated any enthusiasm I may have had for automobiles. It seemed most dates were obsessed with their cars and impressed with themselves for what they had chosen; I was more interested in knowing the human behind the wheel. More than one date was ruined by a car; once I spent what was to be a lovely afternoon at the beach in Southern California in a mechanics shop for some silly malfunction that became an all-consuming obsession.
At one point, I started referring to dates by car names but then there were multiple BMWs and that got confusing. "Oh you remember Volvo," I might say instead of using his name. Now I can't even remember most of the human names but only their vehicles.
The Bugatti is different. And it helps that I am not dating it. It is a work of art, an architectural masterpiece of a vehicle.
This Type 44 was made in 1928. Jerry and the Bugatti have been together since he acquired it in 1960 when he was a young lieutenant in the Air Force stationed in Reno, NV. It was shipped to the docks in San Francisco and soon after he took apart the engine.
The Bugatti followed him during his military career, including surviving storage in Gulfport Mississippi during the devastating Hurricane Camille in 1969. He reassembled the engine in 1973. It spent several years in Colorado where in 2006 Jerry heard the engine start and run 46 years after he purchased it. It was returned from Colorado in 2007, painted and finished in 2008, and has been run weekly since then.
- The super-charged addictive smell of the fuel; honest, it is a good smell.
- The polished grain of gorgeous wood.
- Beautiful, smooth leather.
- Immaculate, powerful but graceful lines that flowed together to both blend into the countryside and stand out like a prized stallion in a line-up of workhorses.
- A small, elegant beveled mirror (a girl would of course notice that).
- The simple logo (Ettore Bugatti = EB).
- The push button instant start; it is necessary for a racecar and a super cool feature.
- The spare tire is just as handsome as can be resting on its sleek rump.