The voice was muffled, but the words were audible and ringing with authority: “Back out of there slowly and keep your hands in sight.” At the moment of that command, I was headfirst down the driver’s side well, with a flashlight in my mouth, my hands desperately trying to re-join the linkage of the accelerator pedal to the carburetor rod, and my legs sticking out above the driver’s seat. From the viewpoint of a passing California Highway Patrolman, the image of a bright red convertible parked by the side of the highway with a pair of legs waving like semaphore flags, may possibly have created at least a degree of suspicion.

It was 10:00 on a moonlit summer night, and I was on my way back from San Luis Obisbo to my home in Santa Barbara. The top was off on my custom built ’28 Bugatti Type 55, and the throaty exhaust of the modified Porsche engine in third gear was like a massage to my soul as we cruised under the bright light of a full moon through the pass on Highway 154 alongside the lake and stream, and eventually over the incredible historic bridge just south of Lake Cachuma. Just as I roared across the bridge, I felt a pop under my foot and the Bugatti instantly decelerated. I braked to a stop in a wide spot off the road and turned off the motor. With the help of a flashlight, I could see that the accelerator pedal had pulled loose, and since there were no doors on this coupe, I had to dive headfirst to the bottom of the well to repair the damage.
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