In the '70s my ex-boss had a Princess 4-litre R, a bit more classy then the Toyota Crown estate it replaced. He then lost his licence for DD and I was often recruited to drive him around in the evenings for his life insurance business. I loved the car and the feeling of luxury that oozed from all corners of the cabin but I was irrationally annoyed by this fabulous motor with its RR engine having that skinny Morris Minor/Mini indicator stick with its daft green light on the end of it. It just seemed so inappropriate.
My Austin Cambridge gave me the fright of my life one day. After leaving the A1 onto the A58 just past the Wetherby Turnpike, there used to be a sweeping left bend. I'd taken the A1 roundabout at a ridiculous speed and was fighting the car into the apex of the left-hander when the right front tyre disintegated and, with a piercing rasp as the rim scraped the tarmac, I was projected into the path of a truck on the other side of the road. I had just enough wit to, as David Coulthard might have commented, to 'open the steering' and take my chances on the verge. My unsympathetic colleagues later told me I was lucky the rim hadn't dug in and flipped the car into a roll. Some time later, absolutely filthy, with the spare fitted and having needed a push to get me off the verge, I discovered that the flailing front tyre had taken the brake flexi with it ...
|
