The pizza joint would have to be in Palm Springs. The side screens that zip on top of the mosquito wing doors remind me of the wet-weather kit for a classic motorcycle sidecar. They don’t fit. And there’s no heater.
I was heading from the test day to Tetbury three miles away. By halfway I was freezing cold and my feet were getting dripped on. I suddenly realized, too, that it would be quite embarrassing driving this thing around. It’s kind of funny looking.
So I turned it round before I got to the town and hot-footed it back. Even if I had a way of plugging it in at my garage- and drive-deprived home, I don’t want one.