Show us your vehicles

Shanghailander said:

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Was up at Saratoga for the closing weekend of the races when I was snapped, unawares, by a newspaper photographer. Saw my car in the Sunday paper the next day.

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GHT said:

The second car that I ever owned, cost me all of fifteen pounds back in 1963. It was a Morris. What type? Black, such was knowledge of cars. But my Morris had a front bench seat. It also had an under dash ratchet hand brake and column change gears.
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One of the best things that happened in my early youth was that I learned to dance. Latin, Ballroom, Jive that sort of thing, very handy because most towns and cities back then had ballroom dance floors. When the bands of the late fifties and sixties toured, it would be at a ballroom venue. Being a dancer gave me an advantage over those fellows who would hang around in groups, hands in pockets, waiting for the DJ to play a slow smoochy record so that they could ask the lady of their desire to dance.

One young lady in particular took a complimentary interest in me. She was rather cute and we got on very well. After a week or so, I started to run her home, there would always be the furtive kiss and a cuddle and then she would be off into her home. The kisses and cuddles became a little more adventurous but the problem was, her Dad was a stickler for her being home on time. So we devised a plan to leave the venue early, have enough time for sampling the sweet fruits of life, and then I would run her home, following her bus. Dad thought she had caught the last bus home.

What's this got to do with the Morris? Do you remember that front bench seat, without a hand brake and gear stick in the way? It negated the need to climb in the back. Now at seventeen, going on eighteen, I knew that tab A went into slot B, but the things that lady taught me would make you blush, it nearly made the poor Morris blush.

About three months on and I thought that we were getting serious, especially when she wanted to take chances, and that was the sticking point. No babies for me, not at eighteen. We went our different ways and poor old Morris who had been witness to my deflowering went too. One of the con rods parted company with it's piston, (must have been in sympathy,) and as I was offered the same fifteen pounds that I paid for it, just as it was, broken con rod and all, away it went.

There is a post script to this tale, sadly though, not of the Morris. That young lady disappeared from the social scene, then I heard that she had met someone, later I heard that they had married. Years later, by which time I too was married, I saw that lady, whilst sitting in, my now current car. She was pushing a pram, there were two other children, one each side of the pram. It made me smile, I wanted to say hello but life had moved on, best not to. She so wanted children. I felt that glow you get when a movie has a happy ending.

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Killick said:

Great story and I like your writing. Certainly can tell you are not from the states

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GHT said:

Thanks for the compliment, I'm intrigued, my avatar shows a British car and my whereabouts shows The New Forest. Coming from East Anglia you will know that the New Forest covers an area that takes in parts of Wilts, Hants & Dorset, but how does a style of writing differ between two English speaking countries?

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BobHufford said:

My Great-Grandfather and his sister standing in front of my maternal Grandmother's '55 Chevy pickup near Dixon, Missouri. This truck was mine for a short time (when I was 16) after I pulled it out of the field, started to fix it up, got frustrated with it and traded it off. Ranks right up there with some of the dumbest things I've ever done. I so wish I had it now. And his pants...

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