Bit of a lack of initiative there, Oily. Just flipping a marble.
By 1952 we were rolling our marbles down the ' pen holder ' bit of the school desk, down the inkwell hole and through a complicated slalom course of books in the desk.
We were a sporty lot in those days.
Ted
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"...down the ' pen holder ' bit of the school desk, down the inkwell hole and through a complicated slalom course of books in the desk..."
..and out through the hole at the bottom?
- the idea being to make the process last as long as possible, as long as the marble actually made it through the hole.
Interesting when the whole class rolled their marbles at the count of three, marbles disappeared through inkwell hole, teacher appeared unexpectedly... a few seconds later, the embarrassing sound of a number of marbles dropping through the exit holes.
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That's probably where I lost mine.
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For fear that people's fascination with little balls (cf Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny) will get this thread deleted, a comment on the connectivity of roads which I have made before:
Why is it that incompetent drivers always insist on doing a seven-point turn, often on a bend in a busy road, rather than simply doing it the easy way by driving round the block? Even in a place like Bristol (see other thread) this is the default method for me. Even if I do end up having to do a three-pointer, I would much rather do it in a quiet side street with convenient driveways to back into than some main urban drag with bus stops and traffic lights, although as a former minicab driver I can do that too, believe me, and without getting in the way like some people.
Can anyone enlighten me?
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I thought that's what handbrakes were for Lud ? You just have to get enough momentum and.....
;-)
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We were confined to canvas cots and the thought of `roads connected` was one of those `where were you when JFK died` moments. Remembered as a sudden insight and burnt into memory
The first ever exploration of infant mind that the little bit of tarmac outside school led to where tigers roam and with the thought that you could just keep going if you had a motor.
Walking out of the school gate was never the same.
Oilrag (aged 4)
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..and out through the hole at the bottom?
Yes, I'd forgotten about the hole in the bottom..............although old age has brought different connotations to that !
Ted
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As in lavatorial graffiti:
I thought the bottom had fallen out of my world, until I sat here.
Now I think the world's.......................
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Get a grip! It`s a serious thread about first motoring insights.
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Sorry!
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I`ve lined the `silly thread` with expectations..
;-) I`ts sucking somewhere near like a library of good works with a nozzle attached..
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So what were your first insights into motoring as a child?
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At age 7, my first experience, dunno about insight, was sitting the back of my Dad's Moggy 1000 at every opportunity when he went out practising for his test with a neighbour riding shotgun. Yes, he bought a new car with no driving licence! Apparently he had driven a lorry in the army so seemed to think that passing the test was not an issue. Fortunately he was right!
Anyway, one summer night it was getting dark. I couldn't understand why no one switched the courtesy light on. Eventually I summoned up courage and switched it on. Oops! Not a popular move!
JH
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I can remember aged around 10 asking to see the engine on my Dad`s car - following comments of `turning the engine over`
Difficult to grasp even then, looking at the unmoving engine casing.
Shortly after that several of us saved up for those model aircraft engines - took the head off (mine was a diesel - ED Hornet 1.5cc) and suddenly it was understood. Hooked on engines from the moment I took it out of the box.
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When I was about 4 in 1959 I remember my mother showing me a photo on the front of the paper of two funny little cars with small wheels. They were an Austin and a Morris, and both looked the same apart from the grilles. I think at the time I was a bit puzzled as to why Austin and Morris would make cars that were almost exact copies of each other. The cars were called the Austin Seven and the Morris Mini-Minor.
Our neighbour at that time worked for a car dealer and shortly after I saw the photos he brought a Mini home one lunchtime. On another occasion he came home in one of those funny BMC FG trucks with the doors on the back corners of the cab.
Edited by Sofa Spud on 26/08/2009 at 21:11
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When you're small you don't know the way to anywhere. But you know other people do. When you are a bit older you realise it's all more or less permanent and there may be two ways to somewhere. Eureka! Connectivity!
After that it's a doddle even if you remain wimpish and unadventurous until late middle age and beyond.
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Shortly after that several of us saved up for those model aircraft engines - took the head off (mine was a diesel - ED Hornet 1.5cc) and suddenly it was understood. Hooked on engines from the moment I took it out of the box.
And do you remember the Mills .75 ? IIRC it was guaranteed to start within 10 flicks of the prop. My Keil Kraft control line plane had an Allen Mercury 1.5cc motor. As 12-14 year olds starting up those little 2-stroke diesels and flying them on the playing fields, the health and safety bods would have had a field day. Lots of boys had fingers cut from the prop when it backfired or they didn't get their little hands out of the way.
Dad owned the village garage and filling station when I was aged 0-10. I don't remember a time when I didn't know how engines worked and knew what to expect looking at the undersides of cars on the hoist. There were always bits of engines laid out on the benches when I visited the garage and a friendly mechanic, oily fag drooping from mouth, to explain what he was doing. Dad bought batteries dry and filled them from an enormous (to me) carboy of sulphuric acid, then connected them in series to a huge charger with glowing lights and flickering dials which clicked and growled to itself.
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Get a grip! It`s a serious thread about first motoring insights.
And just how are we meant to deduce that from the thread title?
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"And just how are we meant to deduce that from the thread title? "
I was hoping that the meaning would become transparent in reading the text and that it would provide entertainment and warmth, on the forum, in sharing childhood insights into motoring.
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That said, there are other forums. Constant nit picking criticism, of what are pure efforts at adding interest and entertainment, in particular when effort has been put in to provide a`photo quiz` are putting me off.
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The days when cars were garaged and not left on the road, because they were so precious and special. The days when anyone owning their own car was either a taxi driver or the local doctor. My father had a Morris Minor van with his employer's details on the side, so we were mobile. Although holidays meant sitting in the back of the van on the cushions taken from the sofa in the front room. Remember "front rooms"? That was were you took visitors and spent Christmas.
Holidays were an adventure on the highways, sometimes going as far as Torquay or Weston-super-Mare. Of course several stops were required on the way, especially if Grandad and Granma came in their car. It was a green Austin 7 with a black roof and often broke down. Grandad was an engineer and always fixed it, even once when a half shaft broke, of course he had a spare with him and his tool kit. It just meant a few more cups of tea from the thermos in that layby near Ilminster.
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Hawkeye,
I built the `Hornet` into a Keil craft Phantom and found it difficult to start. I also had a `Glowplug` in a plastic P52? that was a dream to start. I can still hear the crackle and hiss as fuel was primed into the exhaust port.
Paul, We had a van before the car with deckchairs in the back!
As a backdrop to this was my fathers neglect of his vehicles. I have memories of shale like oil sludge and rattling kingpins on his two Bedford HA vans.
He got away with that for years on those vans, but then bought a new Morris Traveller in old english white. He reduced that to scrap withing 5 years by spending nothing on it - although he could afford to.
I can still remember it being taken away, cylinders worn out due to lack of servicing, no brakes due to leaking cylinders all round. Even cushions stuffed into the remains of the seats, rather than spend a few pence on new rubber strapping that supported the seat base.
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I had a Mills 1.3, heavy and a bit gutless but supposedly very high quality. It came with a wooden propeller, secondhand. I ran it more on the test bed than in the control line Mustanng it was supposed to power. It liked oily fuel and drank like a fish. I used to envy, in a way, people who had the more modern, lightweight, powerful and noisy Frog glowplug engines. Frog 500 was the equivalent of an Audi RS unit...
One day it broke its crankshaft and bent its conrod. I sent it away and it came back rebuilt with the broken parts enclosed. Cost a fortune to get it done. Must have been a fiver nearly.
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Tired of the heavy old Phantom, it `wing-over` performance and its solid balsa low performance wings, I built a flying wing.
Doped tissue over ribs and with extra control surface area me knowing better than the designer) It was launched by a mate over frozen ground in the severe 62 winter.
It was all over the sky, totally uncontrollable, then smashed to tiny bits on the ice.
A while later I built a radio controlled job. Best described as `radio interfered with` as it was rudder only controlled. One day it ceased to be interfered with and just flew higher and higher until it disappeared from sight with it`s full, extra large, squeezed in fuel tank.
Months later a phone call and it was recovered both smashed to bits and rotted having against all the odds over open countyside, descended into a power station and hit the hardware. Found be a maintenance crew who read the still legible address tag.
At least 100 hrs went into that and it was the end as motorbikes were on the horizon.
Has anyone seen whats available in model shops now? Fully built RC aircraft `off the peg` no effort required.
Other first motoring insights as a child were my Aunt and Uncle looking for the first time vulnerable as they stood looking into the engine bay at a battery that was not theirs. It had been `swapped` by a garage they trusted.
They couldn`t prove it. But this 14yr old burnt it into memory looking on at their distress and it was further fuel to the developing resolve to DIY.
Edited by oilrag on 27/08/2009 at 16:30
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>> `off the peg` no effort required.
I inherited a couple of ready-made elastic-powered low-wing monoplanes from an uncle. They required a lot of very fine elastic, well lubricated. They were charming things, with vacuum-formed (I think) aluminum fuselages, very thin, like heavy foil, and small red plastic propellers, geared up, with the final drive pinions inside the nosepiece. The wings were hollow, made from a strongish card, and plugged into the fuselage. The whole thing came in a box which doubled as a winder (also geared up): you put the plane in the box with its wings sticking out at the sides, engaged the propeller in the winder thingy and turned the crank the right number of times.
The wings were the weak point being subject to damage if crashed into anything hard. But the planes would take off from a smooth surface which few elastic powered models would. Of course I was clumsy and rough like other boys and they are long gone. But pre-WW2 I think and very fine boy's toys. Can't remember what make but I keep thinking Frog, perhaps a false memory in this case.
I did do the balsa and dope thing as well. But had more skill and understanding than actual patience, and other interests too.
Edited by Lud on 27/08/2009 at 18:17
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I've just remembered that my father made me, when I was still too young to do it myself - five or six - a very large balsa-and-tissue glider. It was during the war when he worked all hours, so I suppose the glider helped keep the old boy calm.
It flew beautifully but was too big for me to handle really. And secretly I would have preferred some form of motive power although I tried not to say so. Great thing though, five or six foot wingspan with wing - all in one piece - kicked up at the ends.
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Were you in Bath at the time Lud ? Kids used to fly modern versions of such things on the green in front of the Royal Crescent when I lived there 20 or so years ago. It has a name which eludes me for now. I used to wander down there from my flat which while visible from there was in a much more proletarian location. It was the ideal venue to lie on your back on a rug with a bottle of wine and packet of fags with a companion watching the hot air balloons. Don't seem to have the time for stuff like that now......
Edited by Humph Backbridge on 27/08/2009 at 18:34
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Were you in Bath at the time
Yes, how clever of you HB. We lived in Catherine Place, about 200 yards from the Royal Crescent. But the glider was taken to the golf course, also quite close.
The park overlooked by the Royal Crescent is called I think the Royal Victoria Park.
As a Bristolian by origin, my father derided Bath as a jerry-built Butlins for 18th century rentiers (which it is more or less). Later I started to tease him about the slave trade that got the rentiers quite a lot of their money.
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Obviously at a different time but my gaff was in Portland Place. Similarly near by.
I had a Golf GTi at the time before we get into trouble. That connected very well with roads as I recall !
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I remember my first trip in a car - I was 6 so it was around 1950 - my Mom came in the bedroom and woke me at some ungodly hour and said do you want to go to seaside -- Oh yes- seems my mate's dad had mentioned they would take me to keep their lad company. We set off from Birmingham to Weston super Mare - I have no idea how long it took or what the car was but it had suicide doors and smelt of suede - The thing that stick's in my mind is the tide was out and in the other two times I had misfortune to go again tide was also out. - My second major trip in a car was when I was 15 and went with another mate and his Mom and Dad on a tour of Europe in a Sit up and beg Ford Popular.
France at that time used to sell what looked like those little bags of salt you used to get in packs of crisps - throw them in air and they exploded on contact with ground - Oh for the good old days.
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I can remember one of my own first long distance trips. From the west country to Brands Hatch in an 850 mini. It felt like going to the moon, especially the never ending trek across London.
Driving was hard work with the only in car enertainment being a portable reel to reel, battery operated, tape recorder. Frequent stops were needed for fresh batteries.
Kids these days.......
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Regular chidhood ( early 1960s ) trips from Edinburgh, over Carter Bar down the A1 to Sheffield to my mother's family, on the next day to Northampton to see more relatives and sometimes a further slog down to Looe in Cornwall to a holiday cottage. Few motorway sections in the early days. Dogs hanging out of windows, lunch in hotels with white tablecloths on the way down. Sasndwiches on the way back wehen the funds had got a bit thinner. Yes, chicken sandwiches on brown bread with salt and pepper. A milkshake from a roadside milkbar if you were good. Zephyr Sixes, Wolseley 610s and eventually a Volvo 144 were the chosen transport.
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Sorry about all the typos above. Actually trying work a bit today as well !
Still....Bank 'oliday soon.........
;-)
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Not that I am complaining being an offender myself, but precious little of this thread is about road connectivity as I understand it.
Perhaps it should be retitled 'the lateral slip of minds'...
:o}
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Exactly Lud ;-)
Why the title? `Connected` must have been a word I had at the time - aged four in the lunchtime cot. It really was one of those defining moments to such an extent that I can remember how i was laying in the cot at the time.
I also had some fear of tigers after being taken to the Zoo in Aunts old Austin and it was taking some reassurance by parents of `roads being connected - (actual distance to wild tigers) and that there was actually a break in the `connectivity` of roads by the sea.
But the minds eye could see them just around the corner outside school...
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Marlborough buildings paddock or "The Paddock" is the bit of grass directly in front of the Royal Crescent. Originally part of the Royal Victoria Park as you rightly say Lud but rented back by the residents of the Cres. a very long time ago. The bit beyond the vestigial wall is "Vicky Park".
The park is in turn connected to some roads Oily. Hope you don't mind. It was bothering me !!??
Had to look it up.
Edited by Humph Backbridge on 27/08/2009 at 19:23
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I don`t mind anything Humph ;-) except non contributing nit picking.
Has anyone else been motored to the zoo aged four by dozy relatives and stood in front of the tiger cage?
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I do remember being on the bus going past Edinburgh Zoo at that sort of age and fairly regularly seeing the penguins being walked along the pavement of the Corstorphine Road like a party of schoolchildren.
I remember thinking even then that it probably wouldn't be the best idea to take them across the zebra crossing........Now you see them, now you.....
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