Carpworld - - EDITORIAL -

‘At the garage the at­ten­dant couldn’t have been more help­ful. He quickly had the bon­net up and was soon bent over, ex­am­in­ing the en­gine. He must have been un­der there half an hour or so be­fore he shouted out: “Yes, I’ve got it. No doubt about it.” Un­fold­ing him­self from un­der the bon­net he turned to us with a pleased look on his face. “I know what it is, young man.” “What is it, then?” I en­quired.

“It’s a Mor­ris Mi­nor,” he beamed.

The car was dumped, the wife went home by train with the lit­tle money we had left, whilst I was left to work the old thumb again at the road­side. A disas­ter, you might think? No way! The wife hasn’t asked to come fish­ing with me again since that glo­ri­ous hol­i­day to­gether.

Two years later I was pass­ing the same Nor­folk garage. There parked out­side was the same Mor­ris Mi­nor. I went into the garage and ex­plained that I was the bloke who left the Mor­ris. “Oh yes, the Mi­nor,” said the me­chanic. “It will be ready on Tues­day.” ’

BE­LOW ‘The car was dumped, and the wife went home by train.’ On hol­i­day in Nor­folk with Sue

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