[April Bradford]

My First Love Affair (by member Alan G)​

Note from the Editor:
This article was written by member Alan G.

When my uncle found I was interested, he was good enough to take me down on his motorbike to a little house in Croydon, where I saw her by herself in the garden. She was beautiful! She was a good deal older than me, having come into the world in 1933, but had aged well. Mark, her keeper, said I could ‘have her for £5, or for £10 if you want me to do some work on her clutch’. I opted for the latter because an Austin 7 with a bad clutch would be a bit difficult for a beginner to drive. But before anything could happen, I had to wait for the Robins to vacate the glove pocket, where they’d made a nest.

About a week later, I became the proud owner of my first car, marking the beginning of my first love affair. I followed my father home as he ‘helpfully’ made two or three-finger signals in the mirror to indicate which gear I was supposed to be in. After all, I was ‘only’ 18.

I drove her up to London at the beginning of the new term and couldn’t understand why the engine was running so roughly and seemed to lack so much power. All was revealed when I arrived at Clapham Common North Side, and I found the little 750cc engine had travelled the 22 miles to London from Dorking on only two cylinders—the plug leads had fallen off!

Despite the unceremonious arrival, I was greeted with whoops of joy from an assembly of girls on their balcony, all begging for a ride in the little convertible. My little Austin was called ‘Centum Septuaginta’ then because of the 140 miles the previous owner had travelled in her regularly to York from London, I believe. It wasn’t long before I repainted her a sort of ‘puce’ that I made by mixing canary yellow and fire engine red, and I named her ‘Tinkerbell’.

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[Veggiepatch]

That is quite a unique colour. I like it!

 

[maxesmum]

Alan,she’s beautiful! I love her! My first love was a Volkswagen Beetle. Alexander V. Beetle was his name and I loved him. He had many many peculiarities like refusing to drive uphill in any gear but reverse. Driving him was an adventure every single day. But for a student,he was perfect. With all his foibles.he still got me to all my classes and to all my placements for over five years with rarely a huge problem. I only stopped driving him when the back floor dropped out. I was gutted. I recall driving home from Adelaide to Bendigo with three Siamese cats loose in the car (they screamed if you put them in carriers but were perfectly fine if allowed to recline on the seats) , two Labrador dogs,all my belongings and me,stuffed inside! We made it but it was a nightmare. Great memories.

 

[marni]

We had a car with the number plate DFY. We called her Daffy. There was a time when you turned the wheel to go around corners the horn would beep. Unfortunately we had to drop off a number of men after a bucks party quite late at night. It’s still a topic of conversation.

 

[Nichola]

My Mum got her Driver's Licence when she was very young and eventually bought herself a beautiful Austin 7 - in green and black. After she married my Dad she still had this car, but one day Dad came home and announced he's sold it and bought a van - a non-descript dark blue thing. Mum was horrified, and likened it to something armed robbers would use as a getaway car!

 

[Veggiepatch]

We had a car with the number plate DFY. We called her Daffy. There was a time when you turned the wheel to go around corners the horn would beep. Unfortunately we had to drop off a number of men after a bucks party quite late at night. It’s still a topic of conversation.

I had exactly the same problem with my first car. A 1965 HD Holden sedan.

 

[Veggiepatch]

My Mum got her Driver's Licence when she was very young and eventually bought herself a beautiful Austin 7 - in green and black. After she married my Dad she still had this car, but one day Dad came home and announced he's sold it and bought a van - a non-descript dark blue thing. Mum was horrified, and likened it to something armed robbers would use as a getaway car!

Bad Dad....

 

[DLHM]

My very first car that was truly my own, was purchased by me in 2020! So no history or interesting story there.

 

[Knell]

'Tinkerbell" is gorgeous ! My first was a Holden EH...had to pump the brakes - automatic change lanes! lol. loved that car!

 

[Mustang GT]

Enjoyable reading. Thank you.

 

[Reet]

This reminds me of when I first started seeing my late husband in 1958. He had a convertibl;e Austin 7. I believe it was a 1927 model and the windscreen could be opened. We had some really good times in that car and it went like a dream. The only trouble we had was when it rained as there were several small holes in the roof and we got rather wet!

 

[Scottiesrule]

My first car was a 1961 VW. It was white, but only because the previous owner had had it painted from its original blue. It hadn't been the best paint job though, and the white paint began to flake off, leaving blue blotches. I stuck bright vinyl flowers all over it, prompting my cartoonist boyfriend to depict it with trees growing out of it. My Dad, who fancied himself an amateur mechanic and car detailed, offered for us to spray paint her. So what colour did I want? Well, it was the 70s after all, so after much rubbing down and spraying, it ended up bright orange. The cartoonist had a field day drawing her with a lipstick and hand mirror, and admiring the new paint job.
The car with its foibles taught me much and i had learn a few tricks. One of its quirks was to refuse to start, the engine not even ticking over. You had to open the rear bonnet, grab the flywheel and turn it, then try again. It sometimes took s few goes. My finest moment was when I took it to an introductory picnic with the local Rotaract Club. Hoping to impress the blokes, I had enthusiastically joined in a game of tip, which gained me a little street cred. I happily waved goodbye to my new acquaintances, got in the car and started the engine - only I didn't. It had pulled one of its sulks again. So I jumped out, watched interestedly by the young men who were calculating how long they could enjoy my discomfiture before intervening, and with a faked nonchalance and a confidence I didn't feel, lifted the bonnet, tinkered a bit, got in - and had the satisfaction of its roaring away, leaving the blokes with their jaws hitting their kneecaps. It was a supreme moment. I did join the club, and there met my husband who once owned a VW too. My VW only let me down again once more, but it was a doozy - brakes failed coming up to a t-intersection, and I hit a truck. Husband put foot down, declared it unsafe and insisted it had to go. My traitorous dad and f.i.l agreed with him, so it went. I still get nostalgic whenever I see one...