Car Crazy

My husband told me that there was another vintage car event at a local restaurant in the country. He goes along to these when they come up with religious fervor, usually for a beer and a hot dog at the larger shows, or just to see what some very creative sorts have made from an old wreck. Today was the day for it. But it had started to rain and according to the weather report I’d seen, it would be raining all morning and into the afternoon. The chances were between 94% and 100%. Hmm.

That didn’t inspire my confidence, nor did the high of 16 degrees Celsius, which I don’t think it ever reached. No, it was in the mid 50s Fahrenheit for most of the day, in several towns an hour away from home. But we persisted anyway. So, I threw on some clothes, this time they were about 4 levels up from what I wear around our cottage, and got in the car fairly quickly, considering how slow I am when I get ready for a grand appearance anywhere, quickly grabbing a wooly hat as I left the house, (which I never took off).

Our first obstacle was the flock of sheep our farmers were moving from one paddock to another that were blocking our way in front of our dark blue Citroen. Although my phone was in my handbag, I never thought of getting a shot of them. I was too mesmerized by how shaggy they were and how many seemed to want to get run over, as they hurried in different directions, sometimes crossing our path as we eased forward. A few minutes later we were past them at last and then the rain started, slightly at first and then getting heavier. By the time we were through the pass on our way that we must drive through to get to the main road, there was no visibility at all and the rain came down harder. But oddly enough as we arrived in Amberley, where we used to have our orchard property, we began to see patches of sky ahead and the rain had stopped completely. Then with only a few minutes more to reach the event, it stayed mostly dry, although many of the cars in the paddock past the eatery had left the scene completely, just like John had said, ‘They get bored and drive out regularly’.

So, with a few people on the field and more coming in and going out of the rustic eatery, we exited from our dark blue Citroen, and walked around the cars that were left. I took lots of photos of cars that I liked but when I got to the oldest one of the lot, the Vauxhall, I went car crazy myself. It had its original crank intact! I could even see the brake rod that eventually attached to the inner part of all the wheels, it had boxes on the running boards, one was timber, the other metal, a strange inner wheel inside the larger steering wheel, that John said was to manually advance and retard the timing and also adjust the choke for starting the car, whatever that meant. And it was a leviathan compared to the other vehicles on display. I studied each element delightedly and figured all the photos had to be of this particular car from 1925. But it was the bomb as they say, although it was dusty and needed a new paintjob and some tarting up here and there. But between the wire wheels and the rear of the car that curved out like a pig’s bottom, I was enthralled. I’ve never seen another Vauxhall up close and never realized just how enormous they are. This car had a presence and an importance well beyond its years and every part of it seemed to have been put together for a gigantic person. I know that giants have existed throughout history, even though that’s been played down in recent times, and this could have been something that they might have used to get from Point A to Point B, a long time ago. Or not, judging by the low roof.

But whoever drove this vehicle from the past close to a century ago, most have been as thrilled to use it as I am just to look at it with all of its working parts exposed, but still stately nonetheless.