Miss Clara

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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

“Damn. She cleans up good.”

10 days into the project, and Clara was no longer a wine delivery truck. Stripped, blasted clean, damage repaired, she’d been treated to a top quality suit of clothes in NATO green colour but AHI enamel formulation.

Lovingly reassembled, windows removed and re-gasketed, doors mounted and trimmed, she looked like a truck fresh from Solihull and ready to go into service with the Ministry Of Defense. However, her MOD days were long behind her and half a world away, and soon she would be returning to the man who loved her more than anyone else did.

However, there was still work to do – and not a lot of time to do it in. Delivery was promised for a few days from now – and could be pushed out but not too far.

Gathered in front of a large sheet of plywood were McAdams, Juan and a half-dozen elderly men and women – graphics people the decal shop had managed to find by trolling the personnel records over at Corporate.

On the plywood were photograph after photograph of Clara in her original livery. Each detailed a specific section of her markings – serial numbers, affiliations, the Red Cross on its white field, fuel quality markings and more. For something as simple as an ambulance the sheer number of markings was bewildering.

“OK, people, listen up.” McAdams’ rumble cut through the din of the shop and the conversations going on in the group.

“Thank you all for coming in. We sincerely appreciate your willingness to come in and work with us yet again – it’s a spirit Juan and I here are thrilled to see.

The job we called you in for is a lettering and marking job – the Land-Rover Defender ambulance behind us” he gestured to Clara, standing in her new finery “needs to have her lettering restored, and we need it to be done right. After you all do the job, she’s going to be satin clear-coated so she’ll look as good 20 years from now as she does when you do your work.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…you always did talk too much. Not like any of US are gonna see it 20 years from now!” bellowed an older gentleman wearing a battered AHI ball cap and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Why the hell did I ever let you back in the plant? It was one of the happiest days of my life when you retired!” McAdams retorted, to the laughter of the assembled group.

“OK, back to the job. This is a special one for the boss – Mr. Alexander. He wants it done and done right – and you folks are the best and the ones that can do it for us. We have all of the specifications here as to the paint colors, the way they’re laid on and everything else – and we want this done TO THE LETTER to match the pictures. If there is a question as to the spec between the manuals and the pictures match the pictures.”

An elderly lady at the back spoke up. “McAdams, what the hell is this all about? This thing’s gotta be 30-odd years old and we never did do MOD work here - I recognize UK markings. Explain.”

“Simple. This thing got repainted white for reasons you don’t need to know about – and now it’s coming back. It has to come back EXACTLY for the man who it’s being done for – the boss owes him bigtime and wants this done right.”

The crowd nodded, but the old woman was persistent. “This is nuts – we’re doing this for some old classic car? These haven’t been in service for years.”

McAdams spoke earnestly. “This old classic car helped to keep the Boss and his family alive at that fight in Minneapolis back a while ago at the Pillsbury mills. Beyond that I ain’t saying anything.”

“Well, why the hell didn’t you say so instead of all this cloak and dagger shit?” Satisfied, the old woman subsided and McAdams continued.

“None of you heard that, and I will deny it if asked. This thing belongs to the Boss’ stepdad – Miss Rosalynd’s new husband the Sergeant-Major. Getting this right is important, folks.

Any questions?”

With that, the group with their old, battered toolboxes surrounded the sheet, each examining a section to take as their responsibility. Some examined the cans of paints, others discussed the proper techniques for duplicating the mass-produced lettering that would have been stenciled or hand-laid.

After this, and armed with the photographs, each headed off to their section and started to work.

McAdams stopped the elderly woman who’d spoken up as she headed for the truck, a small sheaf of photos in her hand.

“Can I trust you with a special job?”
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

“Buck, can’t they just ship it over to RE? You know the ultimatum that your darling mother’s given me – I need to leave town soon – and getting Clara ready is part of it. I don’t have time for an extended reveal.”

“Al, these folks have worked their guts out getting Clara cleaned up for you. The least they deserve is an hour of your time so you can see the work they put into it. You handed them a damn hard job – and they’ve come through in spades getting the old girl cleaned up.”

“I see your point. Politically, it makes sense. As a leader, it makes endless sense. Pardon my ill grace – and I will happily come over with you for the reveal.”

“I’ll pick you up in ten and we’ll go over. Don’t go over without me – they want to show her off.”

Buck picked Al up in his Bentley, and they headed over to the prototype shop on the other side of the highway. As they wound along Chesnut Lane, Al seemed lost in his thoughts, sitting quietly. Buck didn’t disturb him – the old engineer was spending more and more time like that of late, according to his mother.

Well, this ought to shake him up. Buck had seen Clara in all her finery – and had been staggered by it. If HE had (and he’d ordered it) then the effect on her owner should be epic.

Upon clearing the gates and getting to the prototype shop, the guard as before asked them to wait, and called McAdams to the door. Al stood impatiently as they waited, mind back at the shop and the pile of problems waiting his input.

“Sergeant-Major! Boss! Welcome!” McAdams as always was smiling, but his manner concealed a certain level of glee that was not at all typical. With him of course was his cohort Juan, also grinning in an almost manic fashion.

McAdams, taking great liberties, plucked Al's hat off his head and handed him a set of opaque welding goggles. “Here – put these on.” he instructed. Al complied, thinking that this level of silliness was simply overdone, but masking it with a bit of good-natured grumbling.

With that, he was led into the plant. They walked a bit, Al arm in arm with his son, until McAdams said “Stop.”

“OK, take ‘em off.”

Al complied – and was utterly stunned. His knees began to buckle, and Buck tightened his grip on Al’s arm till his legs reestablished themselves.

It was Clara – but a Clara he had not seen since he found her in the inactive vehicle park lo these many years ago. The paint, the markings, the now-khaki wheels still wearing the Michelin tyres...all perfect.

He walked forward like a somnambulist, hands forward, till he touched her. Running his hands over her wing, then down the side he marveled at the clean, crisp lines of the paint, and of all of her markings each in its proper place and applied with loving care.

McAdams stepped forward, but Buck stopped him. “Enough time for explanations in a few minutes – let him explore.” The people there, taking their cue from the boss, stood silent and watched Al reacquaint himself with his “best girl”.

He walked down her right side, noting the repairs and the meticulous care that had gone into the work. Reaching the back, he opened the repainted back latches and swung the doors open.

The bottom bunk frames were in place as were the rear equipment lockers. Everything had been sanded and repainted in the proper shade of MOD Aircraft Green, other than lines of red anodized screws on the bulkhead and on the floor under the bunk frames.

He turned to Juan and asked, “Red?”

“You wanted the holes closed for the weapons racks. Rather than plug them and then paint, we painted and closed them with red fasteners – you’ll know which ones they are – in case you ever need them again.”

“Thank you.” May I never need them again - but never forget. Al thought. That was perfect.

With that he closed the doors, noting the new seals and the perfect alignment of the freshly powder coated hinges and closures.

Walking forward on the left he stopped at the door and stared at the front wing.

“Yes, it’s been replaced. Old one was plastic to a half-inch in depth in spots.”

“I know - I’m the one who did it. Couldn’t get spares for her in one of the places I was and she got hit by a damn taxi. Hammered it out, slathered it up – and never got round to replacing it. Good. Let me guess – you got the radiator support too?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Good.”

He walked back over to McAdams.

“How did you get her re-lettered? That is not an easy task if you’re not trained to it.”

“Simple. Hey, People – come on over!”

When the crew arrived, McAdams introduced them. "Al, these folks are all retired AHI employees who worked for us in the paint shop – doing striping, lettering and such before the advent of laser-cut decals. With the information in your manuals, the pictures we had and help from the MOD via AHI Runnymeade they did the job.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am overwhelmed. She looks EXACTLY as she did when I found her, long ago on another continent. She and I have seen many miles together, and thanks to you we will see many more. I am in your debt.”

McAdams hesitated. “Al, she’s not quite the same as she was when you found her. Please come with me.”

They walked over to a light servicing lift, and McAdams motioned Al into the basket, again handing him the goggles. Putting them on, Al faced as he was told, and they went up.

“Take ‘em off.”

“Goddess.” Al breathed the word as a prayer. He started to clap, first slowly, then faster and faster.

Invisible from the ground, the roof had been transformed. The majority of the roof was taken up by a perfectly proportioned Union Jack, centered over the rear box of the ambulance body. The rest of the roof was painted in a brilliant AHI White, to reflect the sun – and the whole thing coated in gloss clearcoat to reflect the sun and prevent heat absorption.

"Mr. Alexander remembered you mentioning how hot the old girl got in summer even with the vents open – so we figured that the white roof over the cabin would help. The flag…well, that was just for fun.”

“Paint or decal?”

“Paint. See that lady to the right? She hand-painted that and laid it out. You might mention your pleasure to her personally.”

“Down, please.”

The lift descended, and Al stepped out. He walked over to the group, stood in front of the woman, and said “I am told I have you to thank for that flag on my roof?”

“Yes, you do.”

With that, Al wrapped his arms around the startled woman, and whispered “Thank you so very much” into her ear. Utterly nonplussed, she returned the hug, and her compatriots laughed and applauded.

Releasing her, Al looked at Buck and mock-severely said “You do NOT need to tell your mother about that!” Buck, laughing, said the thought never entered his mind.. Until Now, he thought. Momma will be thrilled to see Al so happy.

With that, the group toured the old ambulance, each pointing out his contribution, and McAdams and Juan pointing out the structural and cosmetic restorations done as needed.

Clara was back in uniform.
Last edited by Just Old Al on Mon Apr 04, 2016 4:07 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

Buck and Al sat in Buck’s office – a place Al had grown increasingly comfortable as time went on. He loved his son dearly, and spending time with him and/or his brother was a joy.

However, business needed to be transacted.

“So, I assume you have the paperwork on that stunning bit of work your prototype shop did for me?”

Buck, sipping his brandy, laconically said, “Yes, I do.”

Al was annoyed. “Are you planning on giving it to me so I can write you a check? I do owe you folks for this, and need to pay you before the Board gets wind of it. Annoying the Board is in neither of our best interests…for obvious reasons.”

“Check’s already been written and the bill is settled. Nothing to deal with there at all.” Buck slouched back further in the leather chair, put his feet up on the coffee table, changed his mind and leaned forward to refill his glass before resuming his bonelessly-comfortable position.

Al sighed. He’d expected this…and was thoroughly annoyed. He was not some kept man whose bills had to be paid by an indulgent spouse. “SOoooooo, how much do I owe your mother for this? I know I won’t get a straight answer out of her.”

“Not a dime – she didn’t pay it. I did.” Another sip at the brandy, and if possible he looked even more obscenely comfortable.

“May I ask why?” Al’s temper was rising, but he was damned if he was going to let this son-of-a-Clydesdale annoy him.

“Simple mathematics. To fight the fight we needed weapons. To get them there we needed to modify Clara. Threat over, she has been restored to her original form.

Let me be blunt – and ask you a question.

What value can you place on Kat’s life, Atsali’s, Pickle’s, MINE…not to mention the others and your own GODSDAMNED DAM? This is completely leaving your own life out of the picture – which you would do anyway.”

Al was nonplussed. “There is no way to place a value on the lives of our family, Buck, you know that. No amount is too high to pay for their safety and good fortune.”

“Put a number on it. I mean it. What amount would you pay for our safety?”

“Millions. Anything. My life, my fortune, my sacred honor.”

“Fine. I agree. I would do the same thing and not a penny less.”

“Now with the fact that I have just agreed to your figure, deduct from that figure the amount that that repaint cost. Add to the total the fact that you had to repaint because of the subterfuge that had to take place.

The total you owe on this is zero – as everything you did was to benefit us and ours – NOTE I did not say me and mine, you old reprobate. You belong here as much as I do no matter how twitchy you get about it.

Say thank you.”

“But-”

“SAY THANK YOU.”

“Thank you. Damn lawyer.”

“More tea?”
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by GlytchMeister »

I can just imagine Buck's smug face.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Dave
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Dave »

GlytchMeister wrote:I can just imagine Buck's smug face.
Clearly, overcoming Al's loudly-voiced objections was like arguing with a hurricane.

Image
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lake_wrangler
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by lake_wrangler »

Darn this dust in my eye... ;)
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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

Dave wrote:
GlytchMeister wrote:I can just imagine Buck's smug face.
Clearly, overcoming Al's loudly-voiced objections was like arguing with a hurricane.

Image
Why do you think he was slouching in the chair in the obscenely-comfortable boneless way he had? He literally out-argued Al and prevented him from fighting back.

Lawyers. Humph.

How the hell do you fight with someone who has proven himself right in a clear, concise way - with facts - produced by YOU?

You don't.

However, Al will win in the long run - by living well and making Buck's Momma happy for the rest of her life. True torture, no?
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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jwhouk
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by jwhouk »

Truly.

Have some tea. The teasmade is right where they left it...
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
FreeFlier
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by FreeFlier »

:lol: :D :D :D

ImageImage
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Hansontoons
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Hansontoons »

Clara, a modified Rover...
Scan 1.jpeg
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by GlytchMeister »

*snrk*
BAHAHAHAAA!
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

You. SICK. bugger......that is just TOO damn funny.

Scary part - it's been done. On the drag circuit there's a Series I Landy that was built up as a drag car. It was described as having the drag coefficient of a brick wall...a statement I can heartily concur with having driven Clara's cousin in a headwind.

Image
Last edited by Just Old Al on Fri Apr 08, 2016 2:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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jwhouk
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by jwhouk »

Ari: "Al, there's a Chuck Barris on line two..."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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lake_wrangler
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by lake_wrangler »

You know, I thought of you guys this week, when I saw an army green Defender turn in front of me, at an intersection. It only occurred to me after the fact, that I should have grabbed my camera to snap a photo of it...
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AmriloJim
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by AmriloJim »

jwhouk wrote:Ari: "Al, there's a Chuck Barris on line two..."
And an Ed Roth... he said "Big Daddy"'s calling.
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Just Old Al
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Just Old Al »

You sick buggers...I just spent the past 10 minutes laughing QUITE out loud sitting at my desk.

Thankfully no one is here to hear me or the gents with the long-sleeved coat would be here...again. :)
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Dave
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Dave »

Just Old Al wrote:Scary part - it's been done. On the drag circuit there's a Series I Landy that was built up as a drag car. It was described as having the drag coefficient of a brick wall...a statement I can heartily concur with having driven Clara's cousin in a headwind.
And only driven on the drag strip, I certainly hope! That thing would be a menace on any road with a curve... the driver's "blind spot" out to one side is huge!

('Course, you could add a radar or an auxiliary camera, and a heads-up display projected on the driver's windshield... but that seems a bit Rube Goldberg-ish).
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Hansontoons
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Hansontoons »

AmriloJim wrote:
jwhouk wrote:Ari: "Al, there's a Chuck Barris on line two..."
And an Ed Roth... he said "Big Daddy"'s calling.
Well, of course! I think I have a few old issues of CarToons around here somewhere...
rothf100.jpg
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Younger folk might not know Rat Fink, the ones at work sure didn't when I asked.
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jwhouk
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by jwhouk »

Ah, Car Toons... I loved that magazine more than Cracked or MAD.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Hansontoons
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Re: Miss Clara

Post by Hansontoons »

jwhouk wrote:Ah, Car Toons... I loved that magazine more than Cracked or MAD.
How about SurfToons? There was a waiter at a local restaurant that I swear had some tats of Menehunes from that mag... I regrettably never asked him about them.
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