Indian summer
I’ve just finished the wonderful article in the October issue about Sam Glover’s Indian adventures in a Hindustan Ambassador. It took me back to 1969 and my first excursion outside Australia. My sister and I stopped in Delhi on our way over to the UK. It was July, and just a few days before the monsoon rains were due: unbearably hot and steamy, even in the early hours.
A small sign in our hotel lobby offered private tours from Delhi to visit the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort in a ‘modern, air-conditioned limousine with English-speaking driver’. We thought this would be a great way to see the countryside while enjoying the comfort of an air-conditioned car; something rare in those days. So we booked the tour, and our driver duly arrived the following morning to collect us. Imagine our surprise when the car turned out to be an Ambassador, somewhat faded in appearance.
The driver ushered us into the back, and when I asked about the air-con he simply said “yes” – which turned out to be the extent of his English – stopped the engine, got out and wound down the windows.
We set off for Agra, driving along what was then nothing more than a very potholed, barely two-lane road for the entire trip, most of which was spent dodging throngs of people, large and heavily overloaded lorries, and hundreds of other drivers who didn’t seem to know which side of the road they wanted to drive on. It was a rather scary experience to say the least.
But we reached Agra in one piece, saw its famous sights and made it back to Delhi that same evening. The Ambassador had performed faultlessly in some of the worst driving conditions possible, and I have retained a healthy respect for them ever since. Charles Dickson
Gold Coast, Australia