A couple of crafty Dutch Marines cut of the roof and transformed it to a convertible. They must have thought: “What good is living in the tropics without a convertible”. It was a job well done. With an axe they cut holes in the floor to prevent it from flooding during tropical rains. A most magnificent car with some nice extras. No key was needed to start the engine. I just used the key proforma so nobody would find out about this secret. Also no rear view mirrors and no flashers. I named him Horatio Nelson, my flag ship.
Tropical roads become very slippery during rainfall. Especially after a long drought. One night back from the city it drizzled and we got into a full spin on top of the Juliana bridge. Although the spin took no longer than 5 seconds, it felt like ages. I remember a lively discussion in the car about what I should do to stop from spinning. “No breaks!” “No no, no gear!” “No no, Dó apply the brakes.” “No, just steer in the opposite direction!” It was like being part of movie shown in slow motion. I stopped the discussion short: “Guys, embrace yourselves. Incoming!"
We crashed into the concrete side of the bridge and immediately started on another double spin. By a hair we missed a hole in the bridge, 15 feet wide, and came to a full stop on the other side of this big gap. I still can see the Caribbean ocean 150 feet down below. How lucky we were. Somebody must have had a guardian angel at his side that night.
Stranded just before the top with no way to turn we had to roll down backwards from the bridge. A real ordeal with no flashers and with cars racing by at top speed. Much more adventurous and frightening than the whole spin. After 15 minutes of agony we finally managed to park Horatio on a side lane.
The front of the car was crushed like a harmonica, wheels unable to spin freely. I came up with an idea. Paid the tow truck driver some extra to help me execute the plan. We hooked up the car to the tow truck, four wheels aground. I hit the brakes with all my might and the tow truck driver put his pedal to the metal. For 30 seconds he dragged me around. Smoke coming form his spinning wheels. How brilliant, we just de-harmonicized the car. As good as new. In five minutes flat we were off again, homeward bound.
Epilogue
Unfortunately, because of the crash the V8 engine was no longer bolted to the body. It just broke off. A few days later I came again to a halt on the Juliana bridge. This time the loose engine had broken through the transmissions pipes. No transmission, no traction. Nelson’s days were over. And after a good old local custom I found him a suitable graveyard. Under a tree. Somewhere alongside the road. There I bade him his last farewell; “Hooray for Horatio!”
attached painting:
Rock 'n' Roll 150cm x 195cm