A Moggy's tale

Dropped my car off for its MOT, on this blue-sky morning.
Walking Harvey round our neighbouring roads, I found this beat up Morris Minor van. A pang. I was the proud owner of a green 1968 Morris Minor Traveller, the half-timbered Moggy, for an aeon. (There were many heart stopping MOTs in those days). It was a great car that happily powered up and down the M4 to West Wales; its preferred speed was ahem 77mph. Seriously.

Things I miss about my Moggy are:
The smell: Morris minors have a pretty unique smell, probably something to do with their leather seats.
The parping growl, moving down to second gear sounds F1 phenomenal.
That you could start it with a paper clip or 1p.
The huge speed dials, and switches that made it like being in a cockpit.
The over-sized steering wheel
The mossy window boxes
The adventures - many of them
Nice lorry drivers

Things I miss less:
Ice on the inside of the windscreen and windows in winter
The windows that never completely closed on rainy days
Cleaning windows


And it was big enough for Harvey's predecessor, Astrid the Great Dane, to once jump from the back (seats down) into the front seat when she heard a firework go off ... whilst I was driving (!).

I do not think of myself as a materialist but I did love that car.
Three big things happened in 2008, the car being pinched was one of them. It was found months later, worse for wear and housing a homeless person.

P.S
Go Andy
Vamos RN