Rainy day sports cars

[Scott Fisher <sefisher@domain.elided>]

One of the categories I used to maintain in my ideal Car Wardrobe was a
rainy day sports car.  That is, back in those days I drove a '71 MGB
most of the time, around the San Francisco Bay Area pretty much
year-round.  It was great fun with the top down, of course, but the '71
B's dash has no fresh air vents -- the only air flow comes from
demisting vents up against the windscreen.  (Face-level vents appear in
the MGB in, I think, late 1972 when they lost the "Abingdon pillow"
safety dash, but there's probably only about three of us here who care
about that.)  It did a moderately adequate job of removing condensation
from the screen, but did nothing for the side windows, and even less for
the cause of the condensation: the damp, warm guy sitting there in the
driver's seat.  I could run the demister and keep the screen fairly
clear, at the cost of heating myself up (especially first thing in the
morning, fresh from the shower, hair still damp) and steaming up the
rest of the car even worse.  So I knew that I needed a car that was as
emotionally engaging as an open sports car, but one that worked in our
occasional rain storms.

For years, the 105/115 Coupe was the image I held of the perfect rainy
day sports car (well, that or an Audi Quattro, the original or
"ur-Quattro" coupe, but I'm on a different list for those cars).  I was
therefore disappointed when I first drove my '67 Alfa GT Junior in the
rain.  It was even worse than the MGB, but I quickly realized that this
was because of two mechanical failures: the heater fan motor had frozen
some time before, and the ducting to the demister vents had torn well
below the destination up in front of the dash.  Once I replaced the vent
tubes (and assuming I could keep up a 35 mph minimum speed), the
Junior's screens and side windows cleared quickly and completely.  I
haven't replaced the heater fan motor yet, partly because getting the
car running is a higher priority.  

Which brings me to the '74 Spider.  I don't know who decided to put
those fresh-air vents in the Spider dash, but I want to kiss him on both
cheeks every day I drive that car in the rain.  The large round
demister/heater vents on the dash clear the screen fairly quickly, and
can pivot to keep the side windows clear as well.  But having the option
of fresh, cool outside air blowing on my face while the top is up is the
answer for me.  We haven't had a real "El Nino" year here this winter,
but we've had a few good rainstorms, and between the dual-speed wipers
and the fresh-air ventilation (not to mention a functional heating fan),
the Spider is turning into my favorite rainy day sports car, with warm
air to dry the windows and cool air to dry the driver.

And... there's something very special about driving convertibles in the
rain.  I love the sound of rain on a taut fabric top, the light
arhythmic ticking of raindrops just over your head.  And there's a
wonderful feeling that comes from sitting in or driving such a car --
it's not like being indoors, nor like being in a "normal" car, in the
rain.  Driving the Spider in the rain, I always feel as though I was
caught in a sudden shower and had to dash for cover into the doorway of
an old bookstore, or a hastily-built lean-to, or maybe just that I threw
on a good rain jacket and a wide-brimmed hat.  Somehow, shelter becomes
more precious the more tenuous it is -- when I'm in the middle of the
building at work, I hardly know it's raining till I get up and look out
the glass doors at the end of the hallway.  But when I'm in the Spider,
top up and demister going, there's no mistaking that I'm *out in the
rain*; it swirls and drops and splashes all around, I can see the sheets
of water falling and hear the drops on the canvas and even feel and
smell the dampness and the chill, yet I'm snug and dry inside.  

So in the summer, it was easy to get out of the Spider at the end of the
day, leave the top down, and think what a fine car it was for our
California climate.  But lately, as I pull into my driveway, shut the
car door and watch the last raindrops quiver in protected nooks in the
bodywork, I find myself saying, "And you would consider ever owning a
car other than this one because...?"

The only answers I've come up with that I care about are "it's track
legal with local vintage organizations," "it tows the race car," or
"it's a 105 Series coupe," and I'm taking steps to have the first and
third answers apply to the same vehicle.  Oh, sure, a family of five
needs a car with a big, comfy back seat, and a large trunk to take home
the groceries and carry our luggage on vacation.  But that's what my
*wife's* car is for... and it comes from a different wardrobe (even if
paid for out of the same bank account).

 --Scott Fisher
   moderately rainy Sunnyvale, California

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