In the mid/late 1990's, I was in the midst of high school. It was a rapidly and odd changing time in Northeast Tennessee; radio, rabbit ear TV, Speedvision (if you could get the literal cable TV), and something the computer geeks called AOL or Prodigy dial-up to slowly download pages line by line to see whatever there was in those days was pretty much all there was media wise along with the magazine stands.
Age 16: 'finally got my driver’s license after two failed written test attempts and aced the driving test in my dad’s brand new F-250 power stroke diesel truck. (also got motorcycle license shortly thereafter, and pilots license just after high school.) My dad asked me if I wanted this little heap of a car he found I could afford...a ragged and hardly road worthy '76 Triumph Spitfire. I had not a clue what it was even after riding with him to Fargo, ND after 4th grade to pick up a Cobra kit car he has to this day.
Somehow and someway, a Victoria British catalog arrived in the mail. I was hooked and so inspired at the availability to order new and improved parts and related stuff to 'bring up' my new pride and joy ride. I mowed who knows how much grass to buy new floor pans, carb parts, and new seats. It was the neatest car in my high school among all the vtec Hondas blaring gangster rap, Spice Girls, V8 Camaros, and big 4x4's.
Time has moved on. I drove that little yellow 'Spit for those years to and around teenage years events. To this day those classmates usually bring up a Brit car memory such as the local police stopping us for having five of us kids in a Brit roadster.
Around the turn of the century, the pale and faded yellow Spitfire was sold for about the cost of a modern smaller iThingy tablet. That sale enabled my next and most of all wanted car...A TR6, which has kept the passion alive and driven a non-writer like myself to share such life moments.