Thank you Bob for leading the way to Lime Rock. As beuatiful as a golf course, or a horse racing track, with the best audio in the world. There are big lessson there in self-reliance when your car is made partially of wood with old school British engineering (sic) and the electrics require constant problem solving. Duane's MGA, Pat's TR3 (borrowed Jaguar), and my relatively lame MGTD were a joy but always lessened when a Morgan went by. Bob had the vibe from his father, whose prize racing Morgan could always be a worthy life goal. How they always seemed buddies in the interest when mostly kids didn't have such connections to their parents. I know Bob had a terrible car accident and we never were hardly in touch after so he may not have had positive memories of cars at all. But did he know he might have saved my tail by sparkng an interest? I owe him thanks. One day on the Merritt with Jay as passenger some telepathy happened as a carload of toughs passed us so they braked to threaten us and dropped back to follow to our exit. Well the 123 exit led to just the roads we needed and do I fool myself the muscle car could not keep up, or did they just get tired of the hairpin turns? And thanks too for style, which LIme Rock was teaching, since it's a key to success: Sloan to Jobs. Like Bob and his father.
I hope the rest of your life was rewading, Bob, and that you rest in peace.
8/14/13 For Bob, whom I didn't know: I was a good friend of your sister Bet. We have recently refound each other not even a mile apart, each of us living in Cambridge, each of us working in the psychology/psychiatry/education world, each as alike as we always were. She told me quite a bit about you, your music, her love for you and the grand memorial service, with a jazz band procession, she gave for you in Cambridge. It's my loss that I never met you, but I got a golden glimpse through Bet. You were much loved.
Larry Smith
Thank you Bob for leading the way to Lime Rock. As beuatiful as a golf course, or a horse racing track, with the best audio in the world. There are big lessson there in self-reliance when your car is made partially of wood with old school British engineering (sic) and the electrics require constant problem solving. Duane's MGA, Pat's TR3 (borrowed Jaguar), and my relatively lame MGTD were a joy but always lessened when a Morgan went by. Bob had the vibe from his father, whose prize racing Morgan could always be a worthy life goal. How they always seemed buddies in the interest when mostly kids didn't have such connections to their parents. I know Bob had a terrible car accident and we never were hardly in touch after so he may not have had positive memories of cars at all. But did he know he might have saved my tail by sparkng an interest? I owe him thanks. One day on the Merritt with Jay as passenger some telepathy happened as a carload of toughs passed us so they braked to threaten us and dropped back to follow to our exit. Well the 123 exit led to just the roads we needed and do I fool myself the muscle car could not keep up, or did they just get tired of the hairpin turns? And thanks too for style, which LIme Rock was teaching, since it's a key to success: Sloan to Jobs. Like Bob and his father.
I hope the rest of your life was rewading, Bob, and that you rest in peace.
Nancy Hutchinson (Erdmann)
8/14/13 For Bob, whom I didn't know: I was a good friend of your sister Bet. We have recently refound each other not even a mile apart, each of us living in Cambridge, each of us working in the psychology/psychiatry/education world, each as alike as we always were. She told me quite a bit about you, your music, her love for you and the grand memorial service, with a jazz band procession, she gave for you in Cambridge. It's my loss that I never met you, but I got a golden glimpse through Bet. You were much loved.