When I was younger my parents used to regale me with stories of Dad’s first car, a Flying Standard Twelve saloon. It was from the late 30s, so I would guess it was 15 years old or so by the time Dad bought it. Here is the car in pre-marriage days, Dad sitting in the driver’s seat (the “suicide door” open) with Dad’s best friend Derrick Hill leaning on the front mudguard. I think they were off on a camping trip to Wales somewhere. […]
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