The Sunday Pleasure Drive that wasn't (as told by my wife)

By Danielle Butler

So, my husband’s Mistress tried to asphyxiate me today.

We three, my husband and I and his 1973 Ferrari 365GTB/4 Daytona, decided to take a pleasant Sunday drive through the Surrey countryside to a little café that was a favourite of my late father-in-law’s. Only slightly grey this July morning, the forecast said no rain until the afternoon so we thought we’d take advantage of the mild weather, let the Mistress stretch her legs a bit, see a bit of prime English quaint, and have a delicious brekkie to boot.

petrolicious.com/articles/a-french-weekend-with-my-husband-s-daytona-mistress

Petrolicious

A French Weekend With My Husband’s Daytona Mistress

I have just returned from a quick weekend in France with my husband and his mistress. I know what you must be thinking, but I do rather like her. Although she’s loud (and I hate her perfume), she’s undoubtedly beautiful (stunning really) and being with her inevitably makes us the centre of attention–whether we want it or not...

It is a known fact that I can’t stand The Mistress’ petrol ‘perfume’ (see above) but today was especially bad as we started out. We experimented with windows up and down - essentially the difference between hot, close Ferrari air or gasoline soaked country air. I had to go with windows up because the smell was so prevalent, I was feeling a bit queasy. I blamed the rather twisty roads and after-effects of the Pimms-infused barbecue from the day before. Not to mention the realisation that I had mixed up my right and left contact lenses. Once we’d stopped and the eyesight issue fixed, I was feeling a bit better. Besides, coffee was coming.

Italian flag flying in the background

Italian flag flying in the background

Flag-flying Italian-owned, The Old Mill Café is really fantastic. Local favourite of cyclists, there is minimal car parking out front but as it’s across from the village cricket field, you can usually find a place for your vehicle. Today, since there was a cricket game in process, we were excited to nab the last spot directly in front of the café thus avoiding a tense breakfast worrying about cricket balls flying at the Mistress’ awesome paint job. Fortified with a seriously good cappuccino and delicious farm-fresh breakfast and toting a to-go box of homemade Italian dolci for later, we climbed back into the Ferrari to head home.

Fabulous dolci

Fabulous dolci

It was hotter and closer now but rolling down the windows caused a noxious funk of petrol fumes to roll straight into the car and down my lungs making my stomach swiftly rebel. So, we tried the car’s ‘air-conditioning’ because neither of us wanted to see what would happen next if the fumes kept pouring in. I can only imagine that back in the 70s air never needed any conditioning because this was an effort in futility. Although the extra power diverting to the aircon did give us a fun scare as we accelerated because the car lost power (see note below). This happened twice before we turned off the aircon and engaged our stiff upper lips to make the rest of the trip in sweaty silence. I closed my eyes and concentrated on keeping my breakfast to myself, even dozing a little in the petrol haze until the hubs felt it necessary shout out, “STRAIGHT OUTTA” as we passed the sign for Compton (Surrey).

As I write this from the bath with my hair freshly detoxified, all affected clothing is in the wash and my stomach has finally stopped heaving. This Mistress has been sent to her room with no supper and the hubs is watching the end of The Grand Prix and hopefully calling our mechanic. I like The Mistress but not more than oxygen.

Note from Me

It looks like today we suffered from a return of the fuelling issue that blighted the Daytona last year. If anything the car has a far too rich fuel mixture as it is also difficult to hot start. I will get the car into my mechanic in the next few days and will report on a more detailed diagnosis.

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