Like your correspondent” Pierre,” I, too, found that the female of the species is partial to sports cars. Unfortunately, I could not afford a Sprite, so I bought an M.G. TC, and I feel that I have gone one better (or worse, depending on one’s point of view) than “Pierre” in finding an anti-necking vehicle.
The first trouble I encountered was the laddering of stockings on the protruding door catches. Secondly, the firm(!) suspension makes the young ladies—quote—feel sick—unquote. Thirdly, even after presenting them with a new pair of stockings and administering travel sickness tablets, there is simply not room in the cockpit for any monkey business, even if the lady is willing.
Before all the satisfied M.G. owners, who must, I feel, be either (a) married, (b) disinterested, (c) impotent, or (d) contortionists, pick up their pens to ask “what on earth is he complaining about ?, may I say that in all other respects I am well satisfied with the car. A word of advice to “Pierre,” I have a friend who owns a Sprite, and he recommends the following procedure. Throw away your safety/chastity belts, at least for this purpose. They only get in the way. Fold down the seat back rests, and then (if you can) persuade the young lady to climb, feet first, into the (by now carpeted) boot. (Line of attack : Honestly, dear, your feet will be much warmer in there.) Follow her in….This, I’m told, is extremely comfortable and convenient.
Finally, may I implore you not to publish my name and address, or I shall never get the little darlings near my car.
I am, Yours, etc.,
[Name and address supplied.—ED.]
[We are glad to learn that young British manhood (and womanhood) is undeterred by the inconsiderate placing of controls and seats by sports-car designers. The Assistant Editor remarks that he is running an Austin Healey Sprite and will be delighted if Shirley or one of the other young ladies will give him a demonstration. But, for my part, I am firmly closing correspondence about this particular aspect of motor sport.—ED.]