By John M. Wright
In John Wright's lifestyles, vehicles come first, basic as that. This touching and funny account of his ardour for the open highway and the beasts that thrive on it's one man's lifestyles visible as a life-long attempt force. A full-time freelance author for Wheels, Modern Motor, Best motor vehicle magazine and so on, John’s pushed greater than 3,000 vehicles in his day and owned greater than 130—his shortest possession being lower than 24 hours. He’s had mess ups that integrated a mishap with an previous Rolls Royce, bought vehicles for a crooked broker, and raced at Bathurst and Targa Tasmania. Now, strap in and prepare to adventure the simplest and worst autos, the most important lies, the main excellent disasters, the autos that acquired away, and what it seems like to head complete throttle for the 1st time in the course of the kink into Caltex Chase. My different spouse is a automobile is all in regards to the ardour of dwelling existence within the speedy lane.
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Additional info for My Other Wife Is a Car: Confessions of a Car Tragic
Sample text
The 234 soldiered on into 1958. The 236 was intended for a customer who had become an endangered species. It was neither fish nor fowl. That gentleman depicted in the advertisements was shopping elsewhere. ) In terms of luxurious accommodation, a Rover 90 was preferable. Where there was evidence of skimping in the 234/236, such as open cubby holes instead of proper gloveboxes, the Rover exhibited magnificent detailing. The Armstrong Siddeleys handled better and had the same kind of engineering depth but they did not exude equal quality; at the lower end of the ‘quality’ car market this was vital to sales success.
I learnt why so many inexperienced drivers have trouble parking. It was always going to be a long wait from Birregurra at fourteen to L-plates at seventeen. In fact, Dad did not give me many more opportunities to drive in the meanwhile, although I became expert in the art of reversing the Armstrong Siddeley, and sometimes the Mini, very fast down the drive at 3 Cochran Avenue, Camberwell, driving close to the nearest side, which I could see, so that the far side would take care of itself. (Have you ever noticed that some people cannot back in a straight line?
One car was red. Another was a lovely blue that I think was called Cotswold. For years I looked out for a Mark II in this colour but never saw one. 4. 4, of which he was justifiably proud. It was a manual with overdrive and had wire wheels. Michael and I had opened the bonnet to admire the XK engine while Mr L was doing a hill climb in his K3 Magnette which we had towed out to Templestowe. Once we had finished looking at the engine, we failed to secure that elegant panel. As we cruised home, the speedometer occasionally indicating 80 miles per hour, the wind got under its leading edge and the bonnet suddenly flew Flash Harry: chasing Jaguar tales 25 open, ripped right off its hinges and soared clean over the car to come to a crumpled rest on the bitumen.
