Saw it. It was exactly as hoped, and yet nothing like I would have prescribed. It was rough and dirty and rusted in spots. It was quirky and impractical and delightfully primal.
I liken the 3W to a worn shoe... one that's been through the muck of life. The more it gets abused, the more lovable it becomes. This is not a vehicle to be pampered or fussed over.
Crowds clamored to see the 3W from behind its protective velvet ropes. I felt privileged to be escorted by the affable Dennis Glavis. Together, we dismantled the 3W and attempted to reassemble it while the restrained masses looked on.
All voyeurs blurted the same question, "Is it old, or new?" The only correct answer would be, "Yes!"
Nervously, I wormed myself into the pre-sold cycle car. We fiddled with the steering wheel, trying to align it correctly for quite a while before agreeing that it needed a position marker. The machine fit me like a seasoned leather glove.
It took every ounce of restraint for me to resist firing it up. The pedals and controls could be found, and assimilated. In my mind, I drove that 3W a thousand miles this afternoon.
I doubt I could have loved this car so much if it hadn't been so bizarre. Never mind that it took three of us 10 minutes to get the bonnet's bolted into place. It's all part of a charm that could never be replicated by perfection.
What a day! Photos to come.
