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My fourth birthday when I had a Dinky S Type Jaguar fully marked up as a Police car - linked to that date (and traceable) was a brand new Consul Cortina that arrived on the 1st of August 1963.....it was a solid blue with a white roof and light blue PVC interior.....What are your first motoring memories
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Being car sick. The novelty of my father's new A35 bought in 1959 soon wore off when I discovered I could not travel more the a few miles in the back seat without being sick.
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Sitting (unrestrained) on the front armrest of the bench seat between my parents in my dad's Zephyr 6. I must have been about 4 years old.
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Sitting on the back of Dads 1,000cc Arial Square Four with mum in the sidecar.
Last edited by: Old Navy on Thu 17 Jun 10 at 19:16
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I remember sitting in the back of my father's Maxi when I was 3 in France.
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I remember being driven to the hospital when my mum was about to give birth to me.
The ambulance was a Bedford - one of the bull-nose models.
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Probably about 5 years young, I had a fire engine complete with movable ladder,
A year or so later and I was into Corgi cars (big time) and then the luv of my life (Scalextric)
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I was knocked down or rather up by a Messershmit (speeling) bubble car when i dashed over the road aged 5, went over the top and scraped half me clock off via the back bumper, didn't do a lot for me good looks...i'd just got off the school bus and i can still remember shouting as i dashed in front of the bus ''last one home's a rotten potato''...splat...idiot kid.
Nothing broken and when i returned home after a few days in hospital the very nice driver of said car visited us at home to see how i was** he bought me a 'Lone Star' American convertible model car, possibly Ford Thunderbird, there was quite a dent in the front bumper where he'd cleaned me up and i hope i polished the roof well on the way over.
**forward 50 years it would be very difficult to contact anyone now under similar circs, though some 25 years ago a driver hit my Austin Princess up the back and was most concerned about my little lad, the one who now drives car transporters, he phoned the same night to check the lad was OK...a gentleman, now a rare thing.
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Shivering to death under a blanket in a vicious essex winter, on the back seat of a 1932 Austin Seven Tourer, It was so cold the old man had to scrape the ice off the inside of the windscreen.
driving in fog SO thick, that my mum had to stick her head out of the windows, look down and tell the old man "left" or "right"
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>>...a gentleman, now a rare thing<<
Slight thread drift but ... I was knocked orf me bike when I flew out of a junction without looking,
I was only about 8 and I had a machete down me trousers which I had just exchanged for a pair of bull horns
(this was Bermondsey don't forget)
The bike was a write off and I never did see the machete again (could have killed me)
My next door neighbour carried me home from Guy's hosp. on his shoulders, what we used to call a flying saucer :)
The car driver (a women) did inquire Re: my injuries and was very concerned, even though it was my fault.
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Travelling between Ipoh and Taiping, Malaya as then was. Dad tells me "if we get ambushed by the CT's, and I cop it, here's the pistol. Aim low. The .303 is loaded thus. Aim low again." Rover 75, 1947 vintage, S5756.
Last edited by: NortonES2 on Thu 17 Jun 10 at 20:43
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Mine also in Malaya, Norton ES2, in 1953. I had just bought my first car, an MGTC midget. It caught fire after a few days. A taxi was passing and I took it to the police post in Batang Berjuntai, whence I phoned the fire service in Kuala Selangor. The fire chief seemed bored and said "Well, you know, once a car starts to burn, there isn't much you can do..." He thought a momement and said, "Look, take the fire extinguisher from the police post, get a taxi and go and put the fire out yourself." I did but he was right: there was practically nothing left.
Nasib busok, evidently, but I still had my company car, an armoured Jeep.
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vague memories of an overheating Ford Pop on the way back from North Wales on Bank Holiday weekends.
More specific memories of my parents buying a car for me to learn to drive in, and going out for my first drive in it with my father. Putting the car on the drive at thew end of the run was something you don't do on driving lessings, and our drive was quite narrow, so I asked him how much space I had. Fine he said, and continued to say, as the gate hinges stove the rear wheelarch in.
I never took a blind bit of notice of anything he said after that, so that was one lesson learned
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Chucking up in the back of Dad's Vauxhall Victor and being with my uncle when he navigated through a fog like that described above.
Not quite a first but I also have clear memory of passing churches with queues outside the Sunday after Winston Churchill died.
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Sitting on the boot of my mother's BRG Austin Healey Sprite (ETA55C), using the chrome boot rack as a back rest and being sat with my head higher than the windscreen...as she drove my sister and I to primary school!
I watched that car being rolled at an Autocross by a family friend...we all thought he was brown bread because it landed upside down and looked a bit of a state..but he'd managed to duck down as it went over. Decent sort of chap, he re-built it.
My 6'4" step-father, mother, sister and I drove down through France to Sitges in Spain one summer holiday...looking at the size of the things now, it amazes me how we did it. The following year we went in a mk X Jag (CFH364C), which is one extreme to the other...and some sod nicked the leaping cat off the bonnet one night. Funny what sticks in a child's mind.
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Dad didn't own a car till I was eleven; earliest vehicular memories are of our neighbour's Triumph Mayflower, picking me, Mum and sister up from the local railway station, that'd be about 1965; the Mayflower was replaced by a Ford Anglia the following year.
My uncle had a rather natty Sunbeam Alpine, bright red; always thought they were a very handsome car.
Other early memories were of my Dad's workmates taking me out in their lorries, the S21 Hoveringham Fodens which most of you will remember from your Matchbox collections. Hoveringham quarry was only a mile or so from our house, I can still remember those two-strokes screaming up the hill, fully loaded; an absolutely awesome sound.
It was our neighbour's son who was responsible for my life-long addiction to motorbikes; he owned a Dresda Triton, and gave me a lift into Notttingham one day in 1970, before crash helmets of course. Needless to say I was instantly hooked!
Last edited by: Harleyman on Thu 17 Jun 10 at 21:56
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Saying "are we nearly there yet" hundered times in the back of my grandads MK4 Cortina.
The times my dad would borrow my uncles Space Cruiser (what a horrible car) so we could go to Pontins.
The many times my grandad took us to Pontins in one of his many awfully unreliable cars.
Sitting in a relatives Sierra Cossworths and wearing the police uniform which went with the car.
I remember my dad buying the first car in years in 1991, a 1984 Lada Riva 1200L it was a damn awful car but the biggest thing I don't get is that he then replaced it with a 1987 Lada in 1992!.
Then after that comes when I turned 17 and armed with the correct insurance my dad let me drive his newish Punto round the shopping centre car park at 6:00am one Sunday.
From there my dads cars have all been boring but reliable elderly Fords.
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Sitting in the back of a Morris Traveller, (Mum, Dad, Auntie, Uncle & Grandma in the front seats) with my bruv whilst both wearing potties on our heads. Not entirely true as we have both been regularly told about it.
My first vivid memory is walking back to Rostron & Johnsons garage in Bradford after my Dad picked up his new Simca 1100 and it broke down on the way home. He was not a happy chappie after a few years reliable motoring with the Herald estate, EKW 212D. The Simca reg was JAK 642F.
Strange how I remember these minor details, but not how many pints of Golden Pippin I have drunk tonight...
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>I had a fire engine complete with movable ladder<
I was three when we went to Lynmouth in North Devon, the site of the famous flood disaster of August, 1952. The sea end of the village was still all rubble, bulldozed into a car park. My great-uncle was a Taunton fireman who had been involved in the rescue operation and he took me into a gift shop and bought me a Dinky Commer fire engine, 'like the one he drove'. Even then I thought he was the greatest! At one stage I actually had two of those Commers and every time I see one now at a collectors' fair (even in France) at an astronomical price I am still tempted.
Incidentally, we made the journey over Exmoor in a 1947 or 48 Austin 12 belonging to a friend of the family in the motor trade. Its reg was KHW 909. I may be ageing and increasingly decrepit, but my memory still works...
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>>I may be ageing and increasingly decrepit, but my memory still works...<<
Its the recent memory that tends to go first comrade ...
Ya can remember Bill & Ben from 50 years ago, but ya cant remember where you parked the car in the car park!
:-)
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Going to Whitby in my uncles Yellow Vauxhall Chevvette with this rusty brown interior and one of them traffic light air freshners.
Everytime we went up a hill we had to stop and put more water in it - happy days
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Yeah I'd forgotten about comrades. ;-)
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Not my first motoring memory, but my dad at one point (78?) had a Triumph Dolomite and towing a large caravan in Dorset down a shortcut (hill) was not smart! Big caravan.
I remember him having an Audi before the Dolomite... rust bucket and the bonnet lifted when driving down an A road. The car was already rust orange :-) I know I conveyed his positivity about an Audi to friends... ahead of his time? This must have been 77/78?
Last car I remember of his before he died (1980) was it was huge and wide. It had a front bench with stick shift I guess. And black. I'd have to do quite a bit of searching to find the model.
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My first motoring memory is of travelling 125 miles sat on our settee in the back of a furniture removal van. together with my mother and brother, when we moved house in 1945. The tailboard of the van was left slightly open to let some light in.
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..our first ever car, bought by my father just after WW2 - it was a Standard Flying Nine.
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First motoring memories. - CGNorwich
