TUGS OF WAR
Finishing the call, he glanced at the phone as he put it in his pocket and voiced his distain: “Tomorrow is today, pal.” Ken Walsh, and likewise his brother Ray, has the do-it-now motivation that does not tolerate procrastinators. “Warriors, you two are,” quips Chris Kershaw who, as their number one helper, is no less infected with their action-this-day spirit.
The trip was partly to find out more about a possible restoration candidate they’d heard about. It ticked all the boxes except one. It was rare, unusual, thought to be in a state beyond redemption – and therefore a worthy challenge – and likely to be cheap. And to the Walshes, cheap is likely to mean ‘you can have it if you’re prepared to take it away’. Sadly, a 70-mile round trip failed to tick the final box. The vehicle had already gone for scrap.
It was a pleasant spring day. (Daren’t name the month, such is Ray Walsh’s aversion to the lady). It was so nice in fact that Ken commented how freshly green and lush the trees were. And this in a man who you image has a brain that, if you were able to lift his thinning top, you wouldn’t be surprised to see the mechanicals of a well-lubricated miniature diesel and an umpteen speed transmission. But noticing the greenery was peripheral. As we drove along – with the vigilance of a
