The Rover Finds A Home
Being a student, I had no money. My fiance', Colleen, however, had been wanting me to rid myself of my motorcycle, a 1978 Suzuki GS 1000. She considered it a deathtrap and did not desire to become a young widow. JT needed a bike. A deal was struck. If the Rover would make it to my house under it's own power, and if the Suzuki would crank and ferry him back, we would trade dead even.As I rode with him from Shreveport, the haunting memories of chasing zebra and gazelle arose in my thoughts. This was not just another car, this Rover was a connection to those wild and free places. I filled my nostrils with the smells of oil and hot aluminum. I let the chorus of rattles, clanks, howls, and hums enter my ears and sooth my soul.
Fortunately, when we arrived at my place four hours later, the Suzuki cranked up, and ran. JT and I squared the deal, each feeling he had gotten the better of the other.
The Rover had many problems. It needed a complete rewire, and the frame was rusted through. The bulkhead was so rusted that the doors were hanging by the top hinge only.
On top of that, I had never worked on a Rover and did not have a clue as to how to acquire parts. Of course there were good points. The Series Rover is designed to be worked on with little support, and is infinitely modifiable. The engine ran, the transmission stayed in gear, the drivetrain was solid, as were the brakes. Since I began with no interior panels, I felt no pressure to replace any. Also I had the only Rover for miles, Most people here had never seen one, so I had few critics, just the usual know-it-alls.
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