March 2011
My first car or carriage was a Silver Cross. Elegant in white gloss and grey upholstery. Gliding along quietly with comfort and being high up providing lovely views out. The trees looking fluffy and jolly as the leaves rustled in the breeze. Never needing petrol, just a firm push by my mother. Actually it was wishful thinking as it was in fact a second hand drop end, lent to mum by her sister.
Later, when courting, I had a share in an old Lagonda. My husband's brothers had bought it, and were tending it back to life. There were running boards on the sides just like in the gangster films.
They decided to take their mum and dad to the Isle of Wight for a few days holiday. On reaching Dover, while parked ready for boarding, the old darling would not start - the car not my mother in law - but so as not to disappoint them the car was pushed onto the ferry and off the other side and spent three days in a garage in time to return home. It was five years later when as a family with two boys we were able to buy an old Anglia. It was very versatile around town but in the country where hills were prominent it slowed down considerably. The boys and I had several times to get out and walk up hill as my husband didn't mind being overtaken by cars and even milk floats, but ladies with prams was just too embarrassing.
As the boys grew I was able to restart work and we found ourselves with a Ford Corsair. My husband thought he had gone to heaven, feeling like a young star he was disappointed that I wasn't able to compete on being a Marilyn Monroe. We had some good times in the car however, all over the country and not breaking down once. In fact the boys both learned to drive in it, the youngest passing first time and the clever one taking two tries. He said he would teach me but we had a couple of trips round the car-drome and I, not managing to get into fourth gear in the first five minutes, was shouted at and I got out of the car and walked off.
I consequently never did learn to drive so as my objective now would be a BMW sixth series convertible 35.8. I appreciate something with sleekness and line. I shall of course have to have a young husky chauffeur and as I don't know exactly when I shall need his services I am afraid he will have to live in.
Now had you mentioned motor bikes . . . I started off on a BSA, moderate but able. Then my youngest son purchased a Triumph Bonneville. As I allowed him to clean it in the conservatory he was quite amenable to let me use it to the shops.
The feel of the leathers on your body and the boots, ooh . . . I loved imitating the speedway stars as they leaned over on the bends, nuisance when the vegetables shot out of the panniers onto the road but folks knew of my fantasies and kept a good distance behind.
I have designs now on a Harley as they offer more comfort in my old age but my sons keep losing all the documents I shall need. Rotten sods . . . can't have any fun!