MY MOTORING MEMORIES
In the early 1960s my main interest was in two wheeled transport, but family reasons meant I needed to search for a car. With little mechanical knowledge and even less money, a scan of the classified ads in the Kent Messenger produced a possibility. It was a 1955 Fiat 1100 in good condition for £18. Having rung the seller and been assured that the car was well worth a look, I arrived at the address earlier than planned to find him hastily pop riveting a sheet of tin over the large hole in the driver's footwell! My subsequent ownership had some very interesting moments – the rear hinged driver’s door would often open at speed and the failing starter motor meant numerous push starts from passengers. On receiving a quote of £60 for a new starter motor, the car was scrapped.
The little Hillman Husky sidevalve that replaced the Fiat had what my next door neighbour claimed was the quietest engine he’d ever heard. To prove his point he took a coin, placed it on the engine and gave it a rev. The coin never moved! When the Husky later failed its MOT, it was sold on at a great loss. Now older and wiser, with regret I sold my Vespa 160 GS Mk2 to provide the deposit for an A40 Farina Mk1. This car provided reliable transport during my mechanic’s course at RAF St Athan and subsequently for my employment with Anstey’s of Maidstone, a large Austin dealership at the time.
In 1971 a family move to North Yorkshire and a forthcoming marriage saw me change jobs and spend the next 40 years working as a sales representative for various car parts distributors and manufacturers.
During those 40 years I saw things which both amused and horrified me in equal measure. One amusing incident occurred whilst I was at St Athans. A fellow trainee, Paul, had motor trade connections and used to return from weekend leave with various old cars. The most impressive of these was an Austin Sheerline. In order to demonstrate the optional built-in hydraulic jacks, Paul set these in motion, but the car remained firmly on the ground. The jacks, however, were fast burying themselves into the newly laid tarmac outside the NAAFI. The resulting damage was not appreciated by the CO!
On another occasion in the early 1980s when parking outside a mill in Lancashire, a passer by knocked on my window to inform me there was a serious fault with my engine. When I explained that my car was a new Mk1 Golf diesel, he said he didn’t know what a diesel was and advised me to get it fixed immediately or I might not make it home! Diesels are now much quieter...
One particularly funny story related to the Husky. Whilst descending a steep, narrow country road, my rear seat passenger decided to roll a cigarette. With the finished cigarette between his lips and the open tin of tobacco balanced on his knee, he arched his back and raised his 6ft 2in frame off the seat in order to extract his lighter from his trouser pocket. This put so much pressure on the rivets holding the rear seat check straps in place that the deafening bang of shearing rivets ricocheting round the interior like bullets fired from a gun caused general panic. With nothing now keeping the backrest in place, the rear seat collapsed, sending the passenger flying backwards in a cloud of tobacco and profanities. How we stayed on the road is a miracle. Happy days!
Some horror stories include early post-war cars with worn trackrod ends being held in place with string and a neighbour changing a clutch on his Standard 8 whilst lying under the engine – which was suspended by a rope attached to a weak looking tree branch. On another occasion a young couple were seen heading for Dover in a Renault Dauphine with the four badly worn tyres wrapped in surgical adhesive bandage!
My personal selection of the best and worst cars I have encountered is as follows:
■ A Ford Granada Ghia Auto Mk1 (the most comfortable).
■ My sweet-engined MX5 1800 twin cam Mk1 import (the most fun).
■ A passenger ride in a 1986 Ford Thundersport 3-litre racing car around Mallory Park (the most exciting).
■ A fixed head early Jaguar E-type (the most beautiful).
■ A Fiat 130 Coupé (the most elegant).
■ A Moskvitch 412 (the crudest).
■ The act of feeding the wiring loom through an empty tin can by a disgruntled factory worker on a new Triumph 2000 (the most despicable).
■ And finally a brand new Marina 1.7 with its antiquated front suspension, a porous engine block that fed engine oil into the distributor and paint so fragile that it fell off in sheets when shown a pressure washer (the worst car by far).
Strange then that after owning some 50 cars and driving hundreds of most makes, models and types, it is my early cars with all their faults that I remember most fondly. Most likely it was those simpler, less regulated days of old when the sun always shone and all was right with the world that colour my memories!