The man wanders up to me as I pace around the car, eyeing it admiringly. It is a 4.5L 1928 Bentley. It looks brand new.
“Wonderful isn’t it!” he says in a way that isn’t a question.
“It is!” It is one of over 30 Bentleys in the car park of the hotel we have stopped for lunch in. We have stumbled upon the Bentley Owners Club’s South Africa jamboree. A little questioning later and I have found out that it cost £3000 to ship the car here from the UK and there are others from New Zealand, Australia, the USA as well as South Africa. They are spending 6 weeks driving around the country. He hands me the brochure – each car has a photo and an entry by the owner describing the car. It is full of comments like “we have had some wonderful threesomes: me, the car and my wife Margaret I mean.”
“It must be a way of life rather than a hobby,” I comment. The man eyes me.
“It is a pursuit for foolish old men with more money than sense!”
Later in the hotel garden I meet a peroxided lady – one of the wives. She agrees. “This year they aren’t too bad. Quite nice people. Some years they are terrible.” She rolls her eyes and makes out that she hates doing this – but clearly isn’t. “I love Africa – we spent years living around Southern Africa. We loved Zimbabwe. Not any more of course. That Mugabe. I wish I had what he’s got – he’s going on and on. First he was supposed to have syphilis, then AIDS, but look at him! Eternal youth!”
She asks what I do and I tell her.
“You must see a lot of AIDS.”
“Yes – and it’s going to be around for a long time.”
“I suppose people don’t change because they are only 2 year olds educationally and you can’t easily change that.”
My mate quickly excuses himself as I sustain a slightly awkward conversation for 2 more minutes before following him.
“Wonderful isn’t it!” he says in a way that isn’t a question.
“It is!” It is one of over 30 Bentleys in the car park of the hotel we have stopped for lunch in. We have stumbled upon the Bentley Owners Club’s South Africa jamboree. A little questioning later and I have found out that it cost £3000 to ship the car here from the UK and there are others from New Zealand, Australia, the USA as well as South Africa. They are spending 6 weeks driving around the country. He hands me the brochure – each car has a photo and an entry by the owner describing the car. It is full of comments like “we have had some wonderful threesomes: me, the car and my wife Margaret I mean.”
“It must be a way of life rather than a hobby,” I comment. The man eyes me.
“It is a pursuit for foolish old men with more money than sense!”
Later in the hotel garden I meet a peroxided lady – one of the wives. She agrees. “This year they aren’t too bad. Quite nice people. Some years they are terrible.” She rolls her eyes and makes out that she hates doing this – but clearly isn’t. “I love Africa – we spent years living around Southern Africa. We loved Zimbabwe. Not any more of course. That Mugabe. I wish I had what he’s got – he’s going on and on. First he was supposed to have syphilis, then AIDS, but look at him! Eternal youth!”
She asks what I do and I tell her.
“You must see a lot of AIDS.”
“Yes – and it’s going to be around for a long time.”
“I suppose people don’t change because they are only 2 year olds educationally and you can’t easily change that.”
My mate quickly excuses himself as I sustain a slightly awkward conversation for 2 more minutes before following him.
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