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  • #61
    ? Spyker uitlaatring - Overige Auto-onderdelen - Marktplaats.nl

    I don't think this is an exhaust tip, but the top of the Spyker wine cooler:lol:
    Rijk

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    • #62
      ... parts for motorbikes (?) made in Thailand. (source)
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      • #63
        ... that could even be official? Not sure. A Spyker for everyone! (source)
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        • #64
          ... what is this? (source)
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          • #65
            Originally posted by amzamz View Post
            ... that could even be official? Not sure. A Spyker for everyone!
            Yes, it's real. I once saw one in Victor's office.
            Rijk

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            • #66
              ... isn't it annoying that someone systematically abuses Spyker's favourite colour?
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              Last edited by amzamz; 17-02-2015, 08:01.

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              • #67
                Originally posted by amzamz View Post
                ... isn't it annoying that someone systematically abuses Spyker's favourite colour?
                God bless those souls, their families, and all those who have had to suffer through the ubiquitous evil of a few.

                Never did I think we would witness the tragedies we've seen in recent years. Please excuse the dark nature of this piece. I wrote it after the Boston Marathon bombings. Sometimes I find it necessary to express that which too often remains silent.

                Lost World

                I walk down halls of darkness
                In a world of empty lives

                I walk down paths of helplessness
                In a world of endless lies

                I talk to those who do not listen
                In a world they try to reign

                I talk to those who are forgotten
                In a world they cannot change

                I’ll collect souls for cleansing
                In a world of deep despair
                I’ll collect souls for mending
                In a world of endless dare

                I see evil thriving
                In a world lost in tears

                I see justice dying
                In a world locked in fear

                I hear sinful laughter
                In a world of dreadful fools

                I hear unanswered prayers
                In a world of rancid gruel

                I’ll collect souls for cleansing
                In a world of deep despair
                I’ll collect souls for mending
                In a world of endless dare

                I know not when it will end
                It’s too hard to tell

                I know not how it will end
                It’s a living Hell
                Last edited by Scott Triplitt; 17-02-2015, 10:05.
                Scott

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                • #68
                  Scott, you are a poet!!!

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                  • #69
                    The cruelty is something from all ages. Even worse from what we are seeing now. The big difference is that it is not only that the information is now broadly available, but especially that it has become visual.

                    On the internet, you would try not to feed the troll. Would that be possible with IS?
                    Rijk

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                    • #70
                      Originally posted by amzamz View Post
                      Scott, you are a poet!!!
                      Hi AMZAMZ,

                      You are very kind, but I consider all my attempts as "pieces of work", if you know what I mean!

                      Below, on a much lighter note than the previous posting, is a piece I wrote describing the Eagles’ journey through the southwestern deserts of the US to the Troubadour in LA. In keeping with the lyrics in “Hotel California”, the words are strange in their own way.

                      The reference to the mynah bird takes me back to when I was 5 years old and my father was driving our family on vacation through the deserts of the southwest. We always traveled at night because we didn’t have any air conditioning. One night we stopped at a gas station that was out in the middle of nowhere. There were millions of stars and my father and I went inside to pay for the gas. There was an old lady with long black hair in a smoke filled room. There next to her, adjacent to the cash register, was a mynah bird. It kept saying very strange things and the fact that I had never heard a bird talk made it seem even stranger. The reference to the Troubadour, which was owned by Doug Weston, is where the Eagles and many new artists in the 60's got their start here in LA. In any event, here is another "piece of work":

                      Journey to the Troubadour

                      No lights on the horizon, hot desert air
                      Crossing this land, without a care
                      We exit the highway, just north of nowhere
                      To the right is eternity, to the left is despair

                      The journey’s been long, and much to our dismay
                      We’ve been working for years, for so little pay
                      Our lives are empty, like the words in this song
                      We're just trying to survive, as we move along

                      The lady was tall, with long black hair
                      Her face was grey, from the smoke in the air
                      Her mynah bird sat screeching, strange words in the night
                      “White spots on my wings, yellow wattle for hair”
                      “What will happen to me, when I fly through the air?”
                      She said this was common, to hear such a rage
                      She said the bird was blind and couldn’t fly anyway
                      We paid for our gas, and were on our way
                      300 miles to go, and we’d be in LA

                      The journey’s been long, and much to our dismay
                      We’ve been working for years, for so little pay
                      Our lives are empty, like the words in this song
                      We're just trying to survive, as we move along

                      We sped down the highway, found a place to stay
                      The owner smelled of whisky and showed us the way
                      The casitas were dusty, the linens were bare
                      He said not to worry, the maid would be there
                      An old lady came and cleaned up the room
                      We asked for clean sheets and she said, “It’s too soon,
                      Besides, they’re only changed in every other room”
                      She said she had friends and we could party all night
                      We told her, “No thanks” we’d be all right

                      The journey’s been long, and much to our dismay
                      We’ve been working for years, for so little pay
                      Our lives are empty, like the words in this song
                      We're just trying to survive, as we move along

                      After sleeping for a three hours, we got back on the road
                      Avoiding the desert heat, that we’d come to know
                      The bright lights of LA appeared through the haze
                      This time we knew, we were on our way
                      Doug had made us an offer, so we decided to go
                      The long trip would be worth it, or so we were told
                      The West Hollywood traffic was moving along well,
                      The bright lights on Santa Monica Blvd, casting their spell
                      We pulled up to where many had been before, we were finally at the Troubadour
                      Doug greeted us at the door and said with a smile, “Come on in, and play for a while”

                      The journey’s been long, and with all certainty
                      We know we took the right turn to eternity
                      Last edited by Scott Triplitt; 18-02-2015, 03:40.
                      Scott

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                      • #71
                        We need a poetry thread
                        Rijk

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                        • #72
                          Originally posted by F Spider View Post
                          We need a poetry thread
                          Hi Rijk & Hans,

                          Great idea about creating a "poetry" thread. Although I would never escalate any of my attempts to express myself to the level of poetry or for that matter, anything more than the mundane, I would appreciate it if Hans could move my last two "poetic" postings to an "Off Topic" thread titled, "Attempts at Expression". For in reality, we are nothing more than what we feel via the medium in which chose to express ourselves.

                          Thank You!
                          Last edited by Scott Triplitt; 18-02-2015, 06:48.
                          Scott

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                          • #73
                            ... back on track then ... with an Australian by-product. Did you know that sometimes cereals came with cards or stickers? In Australia, Weet-Bix is a breakfast cereal manufactured by Sanitarium Ltd. They had many series of weet-bix cards from 1942 to 2009. And, in 1971 they featured a Spyker on one of them... I particularly like the instructions on the backside :lol:. "ask mother's permission..."
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                            • #74
                              I found something too...
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                              Rijk

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                              • #75
                                Originally posted by F Spider View Post
                                I found something too...
                                Hi Rijk,

                                What is it? Perhaps a mold for a foie gras mousse, parfait, or pâté, in the form of traditional Spyker logo? But here again, that ubiquitous blue protective tape from a previous post has me puzzled!
                                Last edited by Scott Triplitt; 19-02-2015, 04:59.
                                Scott

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