The Joys of Motoring
Cars are great. Until they’re not!
Sarah Watson
We’ve had car trouble this week. It’s, therefore, thoughts on cars that prompts this week’s Reflection.
My first car was an aged 850cc Mini. It had a top speed of around 65 mph. Try to push it further, and it was like driving an unbalanced washing machine. The vibrations so hard it could shake your fillings loose. Although given it was my early experience of driving, I did enjoy being behind the wheel. As I did with my next car a Hillman Imp.
Again, not the most potent car one could drive. There was also a drawback to having an engine in the rear when it came to driving in freezing temperatures. The build-up of ice on the inside of the car while driving was an unwanted optional extra. I reckon Scrooge generated more warmth than the heater in that car.
In truth, I’m not really a ‘car-man’. I’ve never been into a car’s style, performance, and the like. I simply want them to get me from A to B without mishap (and for a period in my driving days as quickly as possible). Other than with a couple of cars, I’ve had little connection with any of the vehicles I’ve ‘owned’.
One of those connections was with a deep cherry-red, with a black vinyl roof, Ford Cortina. As with a lot of Ford models of the late seventies, it was a temperamental beast. The joy of hearing the engine fire into life often lost to the dull click of an ignition key turning to no effect.
As my career developed, company cars came on the scene and yes, like many such drivers, I wasn’t so gentle with them. One of my first was a Sports Rated Injection 2000cc Cavalier. It did go like the proverbial … off a shovel. There were no speed cameras in those days and few police officers. My typical motorway journey of the later eighties meant doing a ton with one hand on the wheel, and a phone clamped to the side of my head.
I also drove enormous distances. Thirty-odd years ago people could hardly spell environment never mind worry about it. So, the taxman in his wisdom offered relief on company cars if the annual business mileage was over 18,000 miles. I didn’t pay tax on my company car for some years. I thought nothing of driving from Bedfordshire to the north of Manchester, do a day’s work, then return home. I even did the same to Newcastle. Round trips of five hundred miles in a day with work in between. I hate to think of my level of (non)concentration in the final stages of my drives.
Given the distances I drove and the speed at which I travelled I was a serious accident waiting to happen. I can only thank providence one never did.
As I rose through the ranks my company cars and my expanding waistline meant we were both built more for comfort than speed. The ultimate in that regard was an Omega that I likened to driving an armchair.
The years passed. The taxman reassessed his folly. Many companies changed to offering a car allowance rather than a vehicle. This gave the recipient opportunity to buy something of their own choosing rather than selecting from an approved company list.
By now in my mid-forties, I flirted with open-top cars, ‘shake your ass’ cars and then the second of the two cars of which I had some affection. A PT Cruiser. Not for all, but I liked its Faux 1950s retro look.
That was my car when I first met the woman that became my third wife. After our first date, we walked back to the carpark. There, the lady in question came upon my car. I will forever remember her words of true romance,
“Oh my God, you drive a Whacky Races car!”,
as she burst into laughter, likening it to the ‘Bullet Proof Bomb’ of that cartoon series. I reckon it was the sight of my car that sealed the deal on our relationship.
To be honest, the lady wasn’t too far out despite my belief that the car had style. In complete contrast to my earlier SRI, it had the power of a twisted elastic band. Pushbikes would overtake me on hills. As with the characters in the ‘Bullet Proof Bomb’ I really needed to put my feet through the floor and run to generate extra speed.
Of course, as the years went by, cars became more technologically advanced. My Golf with Adaptive Cruise Control was a long way from the aged Viva I once drove that still had real wing mirrors and a straight across speedometer. On my drive from Bristol to Hertfordshire in my Golf, I often did not touch the pedals once.
My last car before retiring was a more environmentally friendly plug-in hybrid. A pleasant enough car but like many of the others suffered its troubles. On one notable occasion, the petrol cap would not unlock (it’s an electronic interlocking safety feature of some hybrid cars) leading to the drive of shame on the back of a low-loader (see photo).
I say ‘my’ last car as, after retirement, we became a one-car family. I have driven hundreds of thousands of miles in my career. I’ve wasted countless hours stuck in traffic jams. I’ve stood, in all sorts of weather, alongside various broken cars awaiting repair or recovery. I’ve skinned knuckles endeavouring to do car repairs.
I, therefore, have little joy for motoring — no dream of the open road. I’ll happily walk for an hour rather than drive for 5 minutes. And on longer journeys give me a train any, and every, time. In the last 18 months, I have driven a handful of times for a handful of miles. My longest journey being some thirty miles to an airport.
A car is handy to have and given the UK’s uncoordinated public transport infrastructure an essential at times. Yet, I have no regrets that my long-distance driving days are over.
Stay safe — especially when driving ….
