My Father was a nervous instructor and with me, at 17, just getting used to the whole driving thing from scatch I can entirely understand why. A formal course of lessons was a big expense. I was not in a position to fund it myself being still in full time education so had to rely on the goodwill, patience and nerves of steel of my Father.
From a very early age, certainly five or six, I was really into cars. I could, I have been told, identify every make of car on the road just by shape, radiator grille or the passing glimpse of colour of the makers bonnet badge. In the mid to late 1960's this will not have been that difficult an exercise as the British car industry dominated the home market and it will have been very rare to see an exotic european make apart from a VW Beetle or a french marque such as a Renault or Citroen.
I loved to be out in the car as a young child. In the days pre-seatbelt laws it was usual for cars to be full to the headlining with unrestrained and unruly kids as passengers. I would, if out with Father on my own, sit up front and closely study the interaction of operating the pedals and gear changes, steering and indicating. I always wanted one of those dashboard suction fixed toy steering wheels and consoles that allowed a child to imitate the driving actions but I had to make do, but was perfectly content, with a very good imagination and what I suppose could be called an "air steering wheel" consisting of just loosely moving hands held in a 10 to 2 position. The making of engine and gear change noises was very authentic in my own head but was quite a messy thing with spit spray and chin dribbles of saliva.
Two things I vividly recall involving me and Father and cars was a trip to the London Motor Show in 1969 at Earls Court and a test drive through Suffolk in a VW1600 Fastback. The former started off my collection of all things motoring. The Motor Show Guide for that year was as thick as a bible, paperback and with that very cheap sort of paper, quite coarse in texture and yellowy in colour. I was fascinated and enthralled by the publication at the age of 6 in spite of it having no pictures or photographs. It was entirely arranged alphabetically and covered everything at the event from Abrasive Papers for panel beaters through to stuff beginning with Z. The sections for each car manufacturer were most interesting with a full list of models and their technical details from engine size to brake horse power and all selling points in between. I remember seeing and marvelling at the fantastically expensive brands of Ferrari's and Aston Martins and the iconic Jaguar E-type. The American cars were always very luxurious and glossy but "huge and not very sensible or practical" as my Father often commented. I left the show a very tired but thrilled little chap. As a further souvenir of the day I was bought an aptly titled childrens picture book entitled "Peter's Happy Day".
The Test Drive was shortly after the Motor Show, perhaps the Fastback had been on the VW display stand. I cannot recall where the car was picked up from but I do remember we went to Lowestoft on the coast and definitely had fish and chips. The Fastback, now extremely rare as a sight on UK roads due to chronic corrosion problems common to that era, was large but sporty and very striking amongst the dour and predictable British competitors on the market. I expect that Father may well have aspired to that particular model but being a family man and with a still growing array of kids he opted for the much more "sensible and practical" Estate Car version.
As well as the family friendly estate cars Father had also bought a VW camper van. This was, I think, either pre-registration or a C or D which was 1966 or 1967. It was white with green piping and an olive green coloured flat front bonnet in classic style. The vehicle had a large sliding side door which to young kids resembled climbing in and out of a helicopter. Although not very comfortable were the large removable cushioned seats as big as a lounge sofa but best of all was the ability to have a cup of tea and warmed-up food on the small built in gas cooker in the galley area. It was a home from home for a young family on the move. The air cooled VW engine sound, if heard even today, takes me straight back to my childhood. On a trip out to the seaside the camper was a mobile changing room and beach hut. The carpets were always covered with dry sand and collections of shells and interesting pebbles could be found in the cupboards, on the shelves and under the upholstery. After a particularly wet family boating activity at one coastal resort my Father had to drape his soggy pound notes around the rim of the huge, bus sized steering wheel to dry them in the warm, late summer afternoon sun.
The car that has always been present in my life is a Morris Minor Convertible. My parents purchased it just before I was born in 1963. It had been built in 1957. A light drab green colour with a grey canvas hood. It was the car that I took my first tentative driving lessons in accompanied by Father at age 17. After some basic familiarisation lessons on a car park in the town I was let loose on the public roads. For the duration of my first few learner sessions Father held tightly onto the handbrake. In studying his technique and driving style I confidently used the indicators at every appropriate change in direction. However there was a serious flaw in this. My main observations had been in a Volkswagen which was the main family car. The indicator stalk on this German made car was on the opposite side to the Morris and so I was consistently confusing and exasperating other road users by indicating the wrong way at every opportunity. It was after some considerable time during my first lesson on the open road that we both realised my error. The knuckles on Fathers' right hand were almost translucently white as he increased his grip on the handbrake for the duration.
Suffice to say as a parent now of provisionally licenced chidren I have adopted and maintained a strict rule not to take them out for a driving lesson. It may seem a bit harsh but I can recommend it in the interests of sanity, safety and making sure that your kids still talk to and respect you on an ongoing and workable basis.
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