Ok guys, you're right, I've been meaning to do an update for a little while.
Following Chris Zarse's 600 mile epic round trip to the sex festival in Shropshire, the Commer has had a few local runs to various events. However, The Gimp drove her up to Santa Pod in Northants for the Flame and Thunder weekend a couple of weeks ago. Needless to say she behaved faultlessly, other than the battery became flattened. I must get round to fitting that seperate curcuit with a leisure battery I've been promising her. And check the tired old alternator too, which I think may be partially to blame. She's done about 2000 miles this year, as good as gold.
She's now been put to bed for the winter in the long grass round the back of the house, and I really don't expect to go near her for the next five or so months. The official "putting to bed of the Commer" is one of the saddest parts of my year. It means summer, or any pretence of it, is finally over. It's an acknowledgement that there is a long slog of foul weather, mud and swirling leaves ahead of us. Over the depressing winter months she will sit largely forgotten and uncared for, brooding and hibernating under skies as grey and cold as Dunstable steel, thoughts of long-gone days of motoring quitely through the dappled evening sunshine of the beautiful Sarthe countryside nothing but a lingering dream of times past. Nothing to disturb her other than the tiny mice asleep warm and dry in her cupbords, until finally sometime in late March spring breaks out, the birds start singing and once more the Commers cheeks are carressed by the first weak rays of the rising spring warmth.
Just you wait till she get's the sun on her back again, now that will be a day to relish.
