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My dreams are haunted by the bones of a Triumph GT6+

A few years ago, I wrote a piece about a 1970 Triumph GT6+ that I bought in the summer of ’76, just after I graduated high school—how it was the first and easily the worst car I’ve ever owned, and how the rust, metal fatigue, and electrical issues (headlights dying at night and wipers dying in the rain) verified that everything bad you’ve ever heard about British cars is true. The experience was so negative that it waved me off British cars for 37 years, until I bought a dead ’74 Lotus Europa Twin Cam Special in 2013, a decision for which I still have no defense.


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As a college student in the early 70s, I wanted to buy a GT6+ but my father was adamant.  I ended up with a 1971 Cougar instead.  In 1980, no longer subject to my father's will, I bought a '76 Spitfire 1500, which I still own.  Later, I bought a 1980 TR7 drop head coupe, also still in my stable.  I have come to the conclusion that the marque is well named.  It's a triumph if you can keep the car running.  My only other British experiences were driving a Ford Cortina from London to the far north of Scotland and back.  Two weeks of pure pleasure, and owning a 1982 Jaguar XJ6 which committed suicide by catching fire parked in my driveway.  Masochist that I am, I still love British cars.

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