It was as black as the inside of a coalmine as we left the comfort of the Cadillac back at the roadside. My friend, Alan, and I had been staying with friends in Oregon in 1975 when, over a very passable glass of Californian red, the subject of the Austin-Healey 100S came up. Our friend mentioned that he had heard from a local that the remains of a 100S was under a lean-to just 60 miles away. A phone call later—and the red soon forgotten—we were on our way.
Reading from some scribbled instructions, we stopped at what looked to be the middle of way out past the black stump (useful Australian expression meaning the middle of nowhere). It was certainly black outside but armed with a flashlight we marched off into the gloom to be confronted by long grass, briar and bramble. Some 20 minutes later we found what looked like an old storage shed and, sure enough, lying under some sheets of iron and the odd vine or two, was an Austin-Healey chassis. Well, I suppose it would be more correct to say what was left of an Austin-Healey chassis, as it had been severely cut away from the firewall and footwells forward.
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