March 2nd, 2008


Wellington Vintage Steam Meet

Steam! Old cars! Old motorbikes! Old engines! Lots of photos!

Not as many exhibiters as last year and no steam cars, but the traction engies and vintage car clubs were out in force. Photos to come.

One exhibiter spent 4 years rebuilding an old car into a hot-rod -- ie, buggering up a nice old car -- and drove it to Wellington yesterday to show the car for the first time. He hit a kangaroo. Now one side of his car is all gleaming chrome and highly polished metal, while the other side is... not so nice.

Overheard at the fair

At about midday I grew a little hungry, so I popped into the meal room under the grandstand. The lady in front of me studied the board for a long time. I'd already decided I wanted a steak and onion sandwich and the smell of cooking was making me ravenous. The queue behind me grew as the lady continued to to read. Finally she asked "What's a kebab?"

"Chicken bits onna skewer," said the bloke behind the counter. "Three dollars."

"That don't sound very nice."

"Everybody loves them! Or how about a sausage sandwich?" said Wellington's version of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler as he tried to hurry her up. "What about Eggan Bacon onna roll?"

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh... dunno," said the lady. My stomach roared in frustation. "Um... I think... Yeah, steak and ungion sammige."

CMOT seemed to suffer some sort of internal struggle, and lost. He had to up-sell. "How about a drink?"

The lady studied the board -- a board that listed just Tea, Coffee, Cappuccino, Coke, Solo -- for EVER, then she asked "What's cap-pack-eye-no?"

"Cappuccino," said CMOT Dibbler.

"There's no 'haitch' in it!" observed the lady. I considered strangling her with my empty and hunger-ravaged intestines for a) making me wait for lunch, b) killing the English Language, and c) General Ignorance.

"It's Italian," said CMOT.

"Oh, I don't want that foreign muck. Gimme a cup of tea." She took several years to pay for her lunch; paid not in notes or $1 or $2 coins like a normal person, but in small pieces of silver schrappnel the largest of which were four 50c coins.

I know this BECAUSE I COUNTED THEM, all the while thinking "please hurry up and go away," and wishing for some sort of trapdoor to open up under her. I finally bought my own steak and onion sandwich, and washed it down with a cup of tea, but it barely touched the sides on the way down and left me with a general feeling of having eaten but still hungry. It took some time for the feeding frenzy hormones to kick in and tell my brain I'd eaten, and until then I had to resist the temptation of buying a sausage sandwhich.

And I did resist! I Am Good!
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