Morris Minor Owners Club

For you all………

.......who are not alone in thinking that the rich of this world, instead of making a ditch of this world, and wasting their money on an ocean liner or jet, would get much more of what they were looking for if they just bought a Morris Minor and pet, and went for picnics by the river, where families well-fuelled on home-made cake and shiny from the soap laugh and play from morning till night; recalling as they fall asleep the sights and sounds of the day – the unusual knocking from somewhere up front which kindly disappeared after an hour or so; and, just before dreams take over, children remember a Minor rear-quarter window, modestly framed in a simple, two-channel rubber seal, through which had been projected a wonderful view; for it is a fact that the world, whatever the weather, looks much better when observed through the glass of a Morris Minor window. This pastime can often lead to feelings of surreality which, in conjunction with the hypnotic rattle of the poorly-designed timing chain assembly, can, especially at traffic lights a little too long on red, lead to moments of great clarity of purpose, and even to the birth of new philosophies, sadly often forgotten as the horn-happy freak behind demonstrates a blatant lack of knowledge of gearbox design history as you make that funny little Morris “Sorry! No syncromesh on first!” stop, for no reason whatsoever in the eyes of most motorists, and feel the milliseconds drag by as you wait for the final pulse of momentum to fade and, at last, clunk apologetically into first gear, and……….

“Hurrah! Off we go again! Now, where was I? Oh, yes, my turn. Michael, please don’t kick the back of my seat like that when we’re in traffic. Thank you. And Angela, if you really must chew gum, please do it quietly. Okay. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ‘m’. Am I clear your side, Pamela? Thanks. No, Angie, not ‘Morris’, that’s a bit too obvious. Mirror, no. Not ‘mat’, either, way too cold. Give up? It’s MOWOG! And I know what the letters stand for:

“My own way of going!”


And something I read on a website a while ago - a young lad commenting on the family Morris restoration:

"It's not rust, it's Morris dust!"

Mick_Anik wrote:For you all………

.......who are not alone in thinking that the rich of this world, instead of making a ditch of this world, and wasting their money on an ocean liner or jet, would get much more of what they were looking for if they just bought a Morris Minor and pet, and went for picnics by the river, where families well-fuelled on home-made cake and shiny from the soap laugh and play from morning till night; recalling as they fall asleep the sights and sounds of the day – the unusual knocking from somewhere up front which kindly disappeared after an hour or so; and, just before dreams take over, children remember a Minor rear-quarter window, modestly framed in a simple, two-channel rubber seal, through which had been projected a wonderful view; for it is a fact that the world, whatever the weather, looks much better when observed through the glass of a Morris Minor window. This pastime can often lead to feelings of surreality which, in conjunction with the hypnotic rattle of the poorly-designed timing chain assembly, can, especially at traffic lights a little too long on red, lead to moments of great clarity of purpose, and even to the birth of new philosophies, sadly often forgotten as the horn-happy freak behind demonstrates a blatant lack of knowledge of gearbox design history as you make that funny little Morris “Sorry! No syncromesh on first!” stop, for no reason whatsoever in the eyes of most motorists, and feel the milliseconds drag by as you wait for the final pulse of momentum to fade and, at last, clunk apologetically into first gear, and……….

“Hurrah! Off we go again! Now, where was I? Oh, yes, my turn. Michael, please don’t kick the back of my seat like that when we’re in traffic. Thank you. And Angela, if you really must chew gum, please do it quietly. Okay. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ‘m’. Am I clear your side, Pamela? Thanks. No, Angie, not ‘Morris’, that’s a bit too obvious. Mirror, no. Not ‘mat’, either, way too cold. Give up? It’s MOWOG! And I know what the letters stand for:

“My own way of going!”


And something I read on a website a while ago - a young lad commenting on the family Morris restoration:

"It's not rust, it's Morris dust!"

I've read your stuff before. Not this piece precisely, but others written in exactly this "voice".... and if I'm right, and my memory is not completely shot to pieces, you are a writer/presenter/seminarist who lives somewhere on the south coast with wife and growing family, you write in the potting shed and when not trying to break into the literary world, you make a living buying and restoring and selling on classic cars.

Of course, I could be wrong, but if not then I nearly bought a car off you just because I really loved how you wrote it up... but it ended up too much for my feeble wallet. As I say, I could be wrong, but if I am you are an uncanny literary mimic.

No, that's not who I am, just a coincidence. As for breaking into the literary world, I decided long ago that it's not for me - way too tough! And regarding writing - it is far too time-consuming. One has a choice what to do with one's time in life......to sit typing all day is for those with a burning passion. I just like putting something down occasionally - it's nice to see what comes out.
With this piece I tried to capture the nostalgia of my childhood days in the back seats of what are now classic cars.

I wonder if 'modern' people still play 'I spy'.

Yep! We do still play 'I Spy!'

Little alevel english moment coming up - I love the language you use in the first section.

I THINK I know where you are coming from, but remember---there is a fine line!

I think I've figured out the previous posts - I think they are in reference to the rambling style of the writing and the scarcity of full stops.
The style was chosen, to reflect the feeling of 'endlessness' I remember from the back seat as a kid. It is in fact much more difficult to do than to write 'normally', yet still maintain flow and rhythm and avoid illogical non-sequitors. I also tried to capture a sense of naivety.

Writing is rather like music in this respect.....you learn the rules, and then investigate how you can break and defy them to varying effect.

Any other pensmiths in the forum? I find wordsmithery is very good for the soul!

Here is a short poem, by way of example:

Dead chicken.
Not kickin',
Not pickin'
At the ground.
No sound
All around;
No eggs,
Just legs
On a plate.
What a fate!
Dead chicken.

I know! I should get out more .

This is veering towards 'Off Topic' now.

We do still play 'I Spy!'

Have you tried "snooker"?

Are we nearly there dad.

And the highly competitive 'first one to see the tower' on nearing Blackpool!

8009STEVE wrote:

We do still play 'I Spy!'

Have you tried "snooker"?

So that was the reason behind the stretched Traveller

8009STEVE wrote:Have you tried "snooker"?

Long time since I had small children who needed to be entertained in the car (when I did, it was cassettes of Magnus Powermouse... "Naaasty! Bite you!") and I never played this, but let me guess the rules - and I am guessing by the way, I genuinely don't know....

You take it in turns, obviously. You have to see a red car, which scores you one point? Then the next car you see which is yellow, green, brown, blue, pink, black scores you the corresponding points (yellow= 2, green=3, etc).

Can't work out what would happen to end your "break", though.... sighting a white car overtaking you, or something like that?

And I bet nobody gets six points very often!

I have the impression that the reference to "snooker" is some kind of in-car game.

Never heard of it...more details please?