I like driving in my car!  (part one)

I’ve always loved cars, and had longed to drive ever since I was a kid, but ironically I didn’t start to have driving lessons until I was 18 in 1990. I can’t really remember why I didn’t start soon after my 17^th birthday like most people do, but I have a sneaky feeling it was probably because I couldn’t be bothered. I’m also not sure if there was financial reason why I didn’t start as soon as I could, but I certainly remember the lessons seeming very expensive at £10.50 a throw, though the fact that the AA now charge £22 a lesson where I live puts this into perspective.

One thing I do remember was that my driving instructor was excellent. His name was Dougie Pratt, an unfortunate name for anyone never mind a driving instructor, but my sister (who also learnt to drive with him) christened him Dougie Fresh after the eighties hip-hop artist, a name which at the time was an improvement on his real surname, but now is probably just as cringe-worthy as ‘Pratt’. I remember my driving lessons quite well, or at least the general feeling I had when I was out in the car. I used to grip the steering wheel with such severity that my hands would ache for hours afterwards, and my back would always be dripping with sweat within 10 minutes of setting off.

As much as I found driving lessons quite stressful, I was generally pretty good at driving from day one, but I did have a couple of particular weak points, namely hill starts and reversing around corners. When my mum used to take me out in between my official lessons, she made me practice hill starts on the very same road where she had learnt years before. At the time I was pretty frightened because this particular hill was extremely steep, but looking back at it now I’m grateful to her because I soon learnt how to use clutch control through sheer necessity. Reversing around corners took longer for me to master, and in fact this was the aspect of my driving test that I recall messing up and having to repeat. It was at that moment that I was certain I had failed, but I can only assume that the second go was near perfect because I managed to pass my test first time. I remember the last thing Dougie said to me before he drove of after dropping me home again after I’d passed my test, and that was that if I always assume that everyone else on the road is an idiot, then that’ll see me through my life as a driver. Never has a truer word been spoken to me, and I’m eternally grateful to him for that parting piece of advice.

Anyway, this article was supposed to be about the various cars that I’ve owned, not about driving, so I’d better get on with it! Each car that I’ve had has a story attached to it; the only exception I suppose being the one that I drive now. Whenever I’ve discussed ‘your first car’ with anyone, they all seem to be very affectionate towards their first car, no matter what it was, and I’m certainly no exception. I bought my first car, a white 1979 MKII Ford Escort, a few months after I’d passed my test. I couldn’t really have chosen more of an old banger if I tried, but I still loved the car. No only was it a 1300cc base model so undoubtedly a no-frills machine, but it had been partly customised by its previous owner, though not very successfully I might add. The original front seats had been removed and replaced with a pair of front seats from a Ford Cortina. This was all very nice as they had head restraints and were nicely trimmed, but as they were slightly bigger than the Escort seats they couldn’t be properly bolted to the existing floor pan. Consequently, the fact that only two diagonally opposed bolts could be used rather than the usual four, this meant that any excessive movement resulted in a sort of diagonal rocking backwards and forwards motion by the seat, thus making any person sitting on them appear to be doing a very bad impersonation of Val Doonican.

The previous owner had also made some other cunning modifications, such as painting the very basic wheels black which just made them look crap, and removing the front bumper. As the bumper had housed the front indicators, he replaced them with some very cheap side repeaters which were also tiny, in fact far too small to be used legally as front indicators, a fact which I only discovered months later. I’m not quite sure what the purpose of removing the front bumper was; it certainly didn’t make it look any better. Perhaps it just fell off? Anyway, he also decided that this new ‘aggressive’ look would be accentuated by the addition of a couple of mesh covered spot lights mounted underneath where the bumper should have been, but all they really did was turn a mess into an abomination. For some reason he also removed a part of the dashboard, which resulted in the fan and hazard light switches just hanging by their respective wires in mid air. To try and press the switches necessitated the use of both hands (one to hold the switch and one to press it), and I remember several occasions trying to carry out this complex operation whilst still steering the car. Please don’t ask me how, because if I were to tell you, you may want to report me for dangerous driving.

The inside of car also had a curious smell about it. I can remember the precise odour to this day, though it’s difficult to describe. It was sort of a cross between Coca-Cola and mud, if that makes any sense. I remember just sitting in the car just before I had it insured and revelling in the strange noxious odour, eagerly excited at the thought of soon being able to drive my very own car. Other exciting features on the car were the facility to unlock it with a one pence coin, and a back seat which was as supportive as sponge. The driving experience was interesting to say the least, not only due to the wobbly seats, but also because the engine sounded rather like a washing machine. Thinking about it, it also drove much like a washing machine, though of course at least you get something out of a washing machine each time you use it. It was also incredibly slow, a fact which frustrated me no end, but I kept it for a year or so before I finally got fed up with every aspect of it, the most prominent of which being the fact that it was shite. Saying that, it got myself and my best mate to PanoptiCon in Coventry one year without any problems, and I also volunteered to drive a couple of musicians I’d never met before to a gig in the car once, a journey which ended with it being christened ‘The Plasticine Mobile’ because they found various bits of what looked like Blu-Tak shoved in various nooks and crannies within the car which I’d never noticed before.

A work colleague who had just passed his test eventually bought it off me for the princely sum of £150, which was pretty good considering that I’d paid £350 for it 12 months earlier. An arrangement was made that I’d drive the car to his house and he’d then drive me home again, but unfortunately this was not to be. I managed to get to within about 200 yards of his place before the car conked out and I couldn’t get the bloody thing started again. Several emotions ran through me at this point, one of which was the growing yearn to give the car a damn good thrashing with the nearest tree branch I could find. Instead I humbly walked the rest of the way and shamefully knocked on his door and explained the situation, making it clear that I would quite understand if he wanted to cancel the deal. Fortunately for me he was very understanding (or possibly just stupid) and said he would still buy the car from me, him having a mate who was a mechanic who’d no doubt be able to easily fix the problem. The most embarrassing moment was yet to come, as he had to help me to push the car back to his house and onto the driveway. I don’t think I’ve been as embarrassed as that ever since.

I saw him regularly at work and he used to keep me updated on how he was getting on with the car, and I was astounded to hear a few months later that someone had stolen it. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to steal such an unworthy car unless they were registered blind, but steal it they did, and it was found a week or so later in the car park at Morden Tube Station. Unfortunately the thieves had removed the glass sunroof and abandoned the car, and let’s just say that it had been raining quite a lot over that particular week. I’m not sure if he ever got the car back, or wanted it back for that matter.

Tune in again next week for further automotive adventures………!