Mark,
Talk about patina... it looks like you found your grandpa's motorbike out in the loft of his barn and with just a little fussing... air in the tires and some gas in the tank, some high hopes... and it coughed to life with a putt putt putt. And off you ride into the sunset in the shadow of your imaginary grandpa. A grand illusion you have created and done yourself proud, sir.
SB