“Are you sure the car can make it,” I asked my husband.
“Yes, absolutely,” he said.
For years, my husband has been working to convince me to cruise down to the Hudson Valley in his father’s meticulously restored 1947 MG-TC.
While my anxiety level tops out at moderate while driving around Albany in the classic car, leaving the region made me nervous.
I worry about the reliability of any vehicle that is older than my parents. And, as someone who all but wears the harness on a merry-go-round, I was concerned about safety.
As sweet as the MG looks, it weighs only 1,700 pounds — literally a ton and a half less than the SUV I drive daily — rolls on comically skinny tires and is so low to the ground that the top of the windshield is no higher than my hips. And it’s a convertible.
I was also dreading the prospect of a 90-minute ride in a vintage British sports car that is barely more accommodating to my 6-foot frame than the go-karts at FunPlex Fun Park in East Greenbush.
But, alas, I agreed to go. I was only half-joking when I asked whether I should wear my inline skating helmet during the ride.
When I needed to use the restroom, we pulled into a Stewart’s shop in North Red Hook, Dutchess County. When I came back out, my husband was looking under the hood of the car.