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JEAN SHEPHERD more Bugatti

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An acquaintance of mine was a teacher at the University.  One Friday afternoon he asked a couple of us if we were really curious to see something.

I said, “Yeah.”

“You be at this address tomorrow at eleven in the morning.”

I woke up that morning and said to myself, “Oh well, what the heck,” I got in my battered old Ford, and drove over to the address.  It turned out to be a garage.  A plain, ordinary, crummy-looking garage.  Nothing except a couple of swinging doors and a couple of shade-covered windows.

Outside, the teacher was waiting with three other students, and he said, “Okay, you really want to see something?  I want to prepare you for this.”

We didn’t know what to expect.  He said, “First of all, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”  He played it very well, theatrically.  He said, “Alright, are you ready?”  He took his key and opened the lock on these big garage doors and he swung them open and the four of us walked into the gloom of this garage on a gray Saturday morning in Cincinnati.

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