Sometimes old school is best
Using old cars in the Digital Age isn’t without its problems
I’VE been using my Land Rovers lately, enjoying the great weather. The Range Rover is fettled ready for holiday, and the Series was used without the canvas on for a good three weeks of the glorious sunshine.
But using older cars in 2019 isn’t without its frustrations. For instance, take one evening a few weeks ago. I’d had a few jobs all over the place, shooting everything from Porsches in Sandbank to food in Hereford and management of a truck manufacturer down in Essex and even Scottish musician, singer-songwriter and producer. Midge Ure.
One of the days got me back home with just enough time to have an hour or so to myself of an evening in the sunshine. I grabbed my eldest son, the keys to the
Series I, and we jumped in the car. We went to take in a local greenlane. Into low range, tricking along, all was well, until ruts started to form and deepen. I straddled them, and they deepened further and further. I rolled to a halt, for safety sake. The Series looked magnificent in the setting sun, headlights on, the engine ticking over like a sewing machine as we strolled on ahead. My son walked in the ruts, which eventually reached his knees. There was no way I dare risk falling into those, so we backed up and abandoned the plan.
I have to say, I was somewhat shocked, not being a regular greenlaner. Obviously the current vogue is for oversize, taller and wider tyres than the days gone by. What I could have straddled comfortably
probably a decade ago just wasn’t safe for us to chance now. Dropping a wheel in one of these monsters would have made our evening a nightmare. My 600x16s are literally dwarfed by modern greenlaners’ choice of tyres. I can’t help think it isn’t progress. Do we really need that extra few inches of height and width over standard, however?
Thwarted once by the modern world, I thought that would be it. I was wrong. My eldest lad had an event at a water park with Cubs, so I suggested we took the Series I. In 31 degrees heat, canvas off, what better for a lad to come home in when he was soaking wet. Well, that plan failed when I went to leave the car park, as their number plate recognition cameras didn’t read my 1950s plates.
I drove back to reception, where I was told to pull up to the barrier, they’d see me on the camera and open the barrier. This I did; the barrier stayed down.
One car behind became two, then three, then five. When it became double figures, I hung on another five minutes, feeling the wrath of people in scorching hot cars behind me. I gave up a second time, reversing 200 yards past 18 cars of incredulous-looking, hot, irritated people all giving me the evils for holding them up in my weird-looking old car.
Once they’d gone, a very apologetic lady came out from reception. “I’m sorry,” she said, “we saw you there, but the internet crashed so we couldn’t open the barrier”.
Once is happenstance, twice is a pattern, third time it is a statistic. The next time I went to the barrier, I did what I should have done at first; I simply tailgated the car in front.
Sometimes, the old ways are the best.