Frankly, my dear, I don’t div a gamn!
BrianGower struggles with a car’s identity. And the HMRC.
Ihad better explain my scrambled language and that mangled quote. It is all down to HMRC. I knew it was a mistake even before I started to 'talk' to the automated 'helpline', but I will spare you the torture I experienced that led up to a lengthy conversation with John, who had worryingly rapid and loud breathing. All I wanted was to correct my tax code, so I could pay them what I owe instead of building a debt.
After about twenty minutes of John finding unhelpful things on his screen while his breathing grew faster and louder, we got to the right document with the wrong information that I wished him to correct. He argued a bit, but eventually altered it to our satisfaction and said it would be actioned forthwith. Assuming he did it before slumping dead over his keyboard, all seemed well...
Until I checked my bank account the next day and found that HMRC had paid an amount to me that was equal to what I owe them. I phoned again, listened several times to the suggestion to go online, thought, "If they can't make it work, I have no chance," and hung up. I will write.
Some days passed, but I have yet to receive confirmation of my new tax code. What I have received is a letter that predates my original phone call and which thanks me for claiming what has been given me. I have done no such thing.
On the other hand, apart from receiving money that I will have to give back, I am pretty sure that no-one is going to demand the return (or face a hefty penalty) of the racing car featured on this page, the real incarnation of which was recently on show at two classic car events. Stirling Moss was alleged to have driven it, but this seemed so unlikely that I had to do some digging in old books to check. And there it was - a small black and white photo of the car, high on the banking at Monza with Stirling fully in control - shortly before he wasn't.
Having read some of the text, I was surprised again, because the car spoke so loudly of Indianapolis that to see the name Maserati attached to it seemed inconceivable, while "Eldorado" made complete sense. I noticed that Maserati left the trident symbol off, except for a small badge on the nose, so was it trying to distance itself from the icecream-sponsored creation?
If you view the car in profile, ignoring the offset cabin, finned headrest, the air vents that look like gills and the general sense that it might be more at home in Seaworld than on a racing circuit, there is something of the Maserati 250F about it, and Sir Stirling liked the 250F. No doubt he would have relished the novelty of the challenge, up to the point when the steering broke at 170mph, high up on Monza's banking, when he might have muttered, "Forget 'Stop me and buy one' - just stop me", as he spun downwards on three wheels.
The model is entirely faithful to the magnificent racer and doesn't appear likely to fall apart, wellmade as it is by Leo Models, with helpful technical data on the back of the photo-insert in the smart display case. It even runs smoothly on the perfect Firestones. I have always fancied having an Indianapolis racing car in my collection and this one is undeniably unique. Okay then, it wasn't a good car, but the model is very nice, so, "Frankly, my dear… "