Moncton car show report

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      If you're a fan of hotrods, customs or North American muscle, the Moncton show would be your kind of show.  As we weren't serious fans of any of those genres, it wasn't.  Nonetheless, it was a pleasant day out for we three FABACians.   It was also an opportunity to mess up Joe's brand spanking new car.  With Joe distracted by deer all over the highway, his electronic display was switched to Mandarin and to only respond to sign language.  Distances are displayed in leagues and temperature is on the Kelvin scale.     You're welcome Joe.
      Bob guided us straight and true to the Moncton Colosseum where we were fleeced for the not small sum of fifteen bucks for entry.  This had better be good we mused.
     As expected, the halls where filled with outrageously speckled paint jobs, flashy chrome and a whole lot of wasted horsepower.  We lamented how so many of the cars are only driven on and off their trailers and never turn a wheel in anger on the roads.  The ratrod corner was fun, with trucks that would look right at home in the latest Mad Max film.  
        It looked like Joe was going to get sucked in by the quick talking gent with the stand full of drones. Bob and I tried to be persuasive but he slowly backed away and kept sauntering.  From my long association with Joe I knew that like a striped Bass, if he didn't bite right off the bat, he wouldn't bite at all—no matter how much he talked about it.  I proved to be not so strong willed as I was tricked into buying some magic aluminium welding rods a little further down the row.
      A cleanly restored Datsun 240Z with an Electronic Fuel Injection system caught our attention for a few minutes before we wandered upstairs in search of the Moncton Foreign Car Club.  Ovide was there and greeted us warmly.  We had a nice chat and found a collection of truly great cars.  It's too bad that they were stuck out of the way.
      We did meet up with Richard Drummond and admired his and Dwight's handiwork in the form of a customized truck.  About then we ran into a lady who graciously consented to posing for some shots as Miss FABAC. We have to get into costumes for one of our events this year (Windsor?).
      Ovide mentioned that cars are charged fifty bucks ($50!) for the privilege of being used to make money for the show organizers and felt that they won't bother attending next year.
      Despite the tacky glitz and horrible and overpriced food, we all enjoyed ourselves and felt that it had been a worthwhile outing.
       And Joe didn't buy the little drone.
-  Bob E.