I was glad to be able to use his Morris 1000 rather than my much older Bull-Nosed Morris. My dad really looked after his car. It was kept in a lockup garage at least two miles’ walk from where we lived.
I was driving in south Edinburgh on a winter’s evening when I got caught in the tram rails. I didn’t even know a car could get stuck in the rails, let alone come to any harm this way, but I found out pretty quickly.
I wasn’t going fast when without any warning the car seemed to have a life of its own. I hit the kerb and the middle of the bonnet went straight into a lamppost. There wasn’t time for fear but I was certainly frightened when the car came to a stop. I was frightened of telling my dad.
I found out later that when you were driving over tramlines, even if the tyres didn’t exactly match the width of the rails — which they very often did — you could skid. The smooth, slippery steel was just like ice. Apart from skidding, if you were going too fast or tried to accelerate or brake, the car could be thrown in the wrong direction.
To me, the damage seemed considerable. The car was badly scarred in the middle of the bonnet. It wasn’t dramatic. No crowds gathered around. As soon as I could, I got back into the car and drove it rather sheepishly away.
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I rang my dad and, to my great relief, he was very understanding. He had a brother who was in the business of motor repairs and it was fixed quite speedily.
It was a long time ago and I don’t remember how I felt but it certainly wasn’t traumatic. It was more a nudge than a crash but it was my first and only time. That’s all I’ve had in 50 years. I think that’s quite a good record."