There are some things you take for granted. For me, it happens twice a year. In October, I park the Mazda Miata sportscar (circa 1999) in close to the house. I ease it up off the wheels and plug in a trickle charger. I put a thick canvas cover over it, and say, "Sleep well, little one. See you next in May."
I’ve had a handful of small sport sportscars over the years; a feisty Triumph Spitfire among them. They’ve all spent the winter cozying up to the same house.
Take off the cover in the spring, and here’s to six months of endless driving with the top down.
Parking them where I have for the winter months seemed a safe bet. What could happen? Nothing.
Pride comes before the fall.
Disaster hit last weekend. We were in the solarium watching TV news when there was a loud bang, a thump, followed by some sort of splitting sound. A loud bump came next. Then nothing.
Roe and I slipped outside to see a large tree branch some 17 cm ( 9 inches?) across, had bounced off the house roof. It had buried itself butt first onto the poor, defenceless Miata’s hood. Broken branches were scattered everywhere, mostly on the small car.
The windshield was smashed into whatever happens to windshield that don’t break, but crystalize into little tiny bits. The soft top’s glass back window was punched out.
Author’a comment: We looked it over, both shaking our heads. I uttered a few &^%##$5^* cuss words. Unwilling to look for further damage, we decided to leave it until morning. After all, the Miata wasn’t going nowhere.