A familiar sight around downtown: three very colorful characters cruising in their Parisienne. There’s a reason the window is open on a chilly day: there’s usually a little cloud of smoke wafting out of it, and it ain’t from cigarettes. Curiously, just a half block down the street, I see them pull into the parking lot of the Sports Car Shop. Now that’s a bit odd.
It wasn’t to buy a restored Austin Healey, though. Actually, I never did find out why, but one of the three disappeared to somewhere for a few minutes. Time to say hello and ask for permission. Granted, but not without some some slight misunderstanding as to my interest.
Ironically, it was the driver who was most impaired, and she was certain that I wanted to buy her car, which she seemed rather desperate to pawn off on me. “$400, cash; and its yours”. No thanks; just pictures. “Aw come on…just $400…”
One of the passengers insisted on having his picture taken with the ‘RISIENNE, and how could I not oblige, given that I hadn’t already forked over four Benjamins.
It’s not exactly a Jaguar, but then this Canadian-import ( a little more so than so many others anyway) does sport that badge of distinction on its vinyl roof:
Yes, a Brougham, no less. I wonder in what quantities GM bought these familiar badges during the Great Brougham Epoch?
The third passenger returned, the disappointed driver got back in, and they headed out. And I know where to, quite likely:
To the top of Skinner Butte, to enjoy the AWESOME view, if they could see it through the haze inside the ‘RISIENNE.