Went to the Bromley Motoring Pageant (or whatever) yesterday. Paid £2 for what was pointed out to be a really crappy thin car mag, despite it being advertised as a ‘programme’. At least it came in handy as a hat when it rained.
You know me and cars – I was in heaven. Loads of minis to get the reminiscing brain cells going. My first mini was mid-blue, with wide alloy wheels, double exhaust, walnut dash and a wicked sound system. I loved that car, despite it being an electrical nightmare, and it had the best numberplate for a 17-year old. PYT 3P – you figure it out (think Michael Jackson). Last time I saw it, it was dumped by the side of a road in Coulsden after Stuart mashed it at banger-racing. RIP.
There were also lots of Capri’s. (C’mon Deb, let’s go for a HACK!). Mine was a weapon (well, back then anyway). It had snazzy racing stripes, and went like a bomb, even though the back end did slide all over the place at speed. Had some bloody good times in that car… pity some uninsured stoner couldn’t remember where his brake pedal was and ploughed into me (well, Debbie Rogers really – she had a bruise on her legs for weeks afterwards).
Anyway, I digress (again). There really were some fab cars there, and there was even a ‘show’ of bike stunts, demonstrated by people with such names as ‘Flyin Ryan’ and ‘Jumpin James’. There was even a Kit car (y’know – have I talked about the Hoff before or what?!). And the stretch Hummer was just too cool – I’ve seen it on the M25 before but this time I got to see inside it! Nightclub city.
All in all, a good day (despite the rain) and a rather large anti-climax when I came to drive home in my not-customised or souped-up Ford C-Max Zetec.
Oh, and a little tip for those of you who have sooper-dooper cars with a tiny battery. If you leave your lights on and your battery goes dead, before you go tromping round a huge muddy field asking about fifty people if they have jump leads, it’s always a good idea to check your own boot first.