This is not an abandoned vehicle

“THERE’S a letter for you, and you’re not going to believe it,” says my mum, down the phone. “It’s entitled: REFUSE DISPOSAL (AMENITY) ACT 1978 - ABANDONED VEHICLE.” My ears prick up and my hackles rise, ready for full defense of my historic vehicle. Again. Last time was Torbay, 2017, when my much loved historic vehicle was towed to the scrapyard and, as I was working in Iraq at the time, a combination of Land Rover social media forums, loyal LRM readers and editor Pat managed to alert me to its plight. Back then, the Lightweight was left standing alone for months on end. This time (the Home Counties, 2021), the Lightweight is being driven on a weekly, often daily, basis, and, when I did recently spend a month in Iraq, I moved it to a friend’s driveway. At least this borough has the good sense to investigate the vehicle independently before relegating it as scrap. “It has been brought to our attention that the above-mentioned vehicle may have been abandoned, but upon checking with the DVLA, it is clear that this vehicle is taxed (although no MOT details are showing), and registered to you as the keeper,” the letter reads. It then asks me to confirm, by telephone or in writing, that the vehicle has not been abandoned. The missive is signed, rather enigmatically with initials only (which appear to read G.E.), with no name written underneath, only ‘Abandoned Vehicles Officer’. I dutifully call the number and explain to a very pleasant woman why I am calling. She seems a little mystified, saying that normally such issues request an email confirmation, rather than by phone or letter, noting that there is no Abandoned Vehicles Officer currently available. “It’s very weird the person didn’t write their name,” the nice lady muses. I say I wondered if the issue of parking in this borough was so toxic that the Abandoned Vehicles Officer feared for his life so avoided giving out his full name, which she finds amusing. She makes a note of my call and the vehicle details, and suggests I go ahead and write a letter as instructed, before engaging in a little council-related banter. It sounds as though they have to manage a lot of issues relating to embittered neighbours attempting to enact small acts of vengeance on one another via the local council. This case, I say, is unfortunately little different. I can take a reasonable guess at who is behind this latest targeting of the Lightweight. A few months ago, when the Fella and I were undertaking a little light roadside maintenance, an elderly couple pulled up in some nondescript car and proceeded to stage a two-pronged attack. While the driver collared the Fella, the lady opened the passenger window and said to me, with great warmth: “I love this car,” to which I replied: “Thank you, so do I,” because one should accept a compliment nicely. “But, we are very worried about the

“I purchase a car sticker, declaring: ‘This is not an abandoned vehicle’. I hope it may act as a deterrent to the local council kidnapping my Lightweight”

lorries passing here so often, and we are afraid that it might be hit,” she continued. I reassured her that the lorries in question (serving a small new controversial housing development) appeared to be giving the Lightweight a wide berth and, if anything, its presence made them more careful, something I felt benefited the neighbourhood in general. Undeterred, she continued: “We think you ought to park it around the corner, over there, out of sight and out the way. There are plenty of places.” The initial warmth had, by then, evaporated but I thanked her for her suggestion and promised to take a look at the parking area in question, while obviously writing it off as absurd that I would park the Lightweight hidden away somewhere where I couldn’t monitor its presence and condition. As the car drifted away, the Fella came round from where he had been talking to the driver. “What rude people!” he expostulated. “Really? The lady seemed quite pleasant and said she loved my Land Rover although I’m not sure she really does,” I said. “He told me outright they wanted you to park your car around the corner instead of here, and he said it very rudely,” the Fella said. “I just told them no, we won’t park it anywhere else. Who do these people think they are?” My heart glowed with warmth at such loyalty. The Lightweight has actually been parked near brother’s house these past few days and I message to let him know I’m picking it up that evening. “Okay. I’m sure the house behind it will be glad to see it go,” he replies. “And our neighbours will be delighted by its return, as they have just reported it to the local council as an abandoned vehicle... The cheek!” I write back. In a message peppered with expletives, he says he can’t understand what people have against my Land Rover, and adds indignantly that his neighbours have also recently been glaring at his Ranger. Before writing to the Abandoned Vehicles Officer, I purchase a car sticker online, declaring: ‘This is not an abandoned vehicle’. As well as serving as a message to those cordial neighbours, I hope it may act as a deterrent to the local council kidnapping my Lightweight, just in case they decide to take swift and unreasonable action. Despite my efforts to choose a solid colour sticker, what actually arrives in the post comprises those annoying individual letters that require the type of careful placing and adhesion I have neither the skill nor will to try to undertake. The letters are also black – the colour of the Lightweight – which would render the message largely invisible. Instead, I gaffer tape the whole thing to the inside of the rear window, carefully positioned so no word is obscured by the spare wheel. It looks pretty good and I hope everyone gets the message.