I've had more than a few cars in my time. As a result, you may be picturing me as a young Arthur Daley. "Noisy gearbox? Chuck in a handful of sawdust and it'll run as sweet as a nut. Scratched windscreen? Polish it out with a spot of toothpaste and you'll also save on air freshener." In reality, I'm a long way from that image. Similarly, I'm neither an aspiring Lord Beaulieu nor a proto-Clarkson. Most of my car purchases have resulted from desire rather than genuine need; not from expertise but as a direct result of emotional involvement. This, I fear, makes me more like a cut-price automotive Casanova. I've bought cars because I liked the way they looked. I've bought cars to impress people. I've even bought cars to cheer myself up. But practicality? That's never been at the top of my wish list.
Yet, with our house move approaching, I consider buying a vehicle that would help us shift a few boxes. I immediately think of the Citroen CX Safari, a futuristic car from the 1970s, which resembled an upturned narrowboat and had the carrying capacity of The Old Woman Who Swallowed A Fly. However, a quick trip to the forecourt of Ringmer's Busy Bee garage reminded me that my dream vehicle is around 40 years old and more likely to be found in a museum. Time for me to admit defeat and organise a little professional help.
With the transportation for our removals in expert hands, my thoughts turn to the first time I came to Ringmer. It was around 11 years ago and I was a single man, driving my 'weekend car'. In reality it was my only car but, as someone who worked from home for much of the time, I'd chosen something slightly unusual and - okay, I admit it - not entirely sensible. It was a Jaguar XJS, as driven by Gareth Hunt in
The New Avengers and by Roger Moore in
The Saint. As driven by me, too. When new in 1989, it was worth around £30,000: the price of a nice little house. By the time I bought it, the value had dropped to the cost of a decent-sized shed. I was coming to the village from my home in West Sussex to meet my new girlfriend; a joyous 60-mile round trip with the V12 engine of my XJS burbling gently as I cruised along the A27. But after a few months there was a cloud to my silver lining: as well as getting to know my girlfriend, fuel economy of 15 miles per gallon meant I was becoming well acquainted with most of the petrol station staff along my route. It was time to make my first-ever sensible decision about cars. So I sold the Jag and married the girl. Mind you, my wife still insists I needn't have done both.
First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 131 August 2017
