I love driving, especially outside Australia which must boast some of the world’s most moronic drivers. Any opportunity to get behind the wheel beyond our shores reminds me what a miserable country this is for a petrolhead like me. (Hmmm, quick aside – will we have ‘voltheads’ in the future?).…
A car shed! Yes, there have been some big changes to our household lately when we moved from the leafy, lower North Shore in Sydney to the even leafier and cooler climes of Wentworth Falls, in the Upper Blue Mountains. In January this year, my wife, Dexter the dog, the two cats, Brodie and Ashley, and I, all went on a voyage of discovery, leaving Sydney after 30 years – blimey, what have we done?…
Ah, car noises. When I was about three years old (so I have been told) I used to guess what car was going past our house by identifying its exhaust note, while hiding behind the curtains. And, (apparently), I would be successful most of the time. Even now, I can ‘hear’ those distinctive noises in my head, the ‘farty’ exhaust note of a Morris Minor, curiously completely different to an Austin with the same BMC A-series motor.…
Growing up in suburban South London in the late fifties and sixties, foreign cars were still a very rare sight on the roads. I knew they existed because my father took my brother and me to the Motor Show in Earls Court every year. There, we saw them in the metal.…
