Stubborn bugger

In the thirties, like many people who came through the great depression, Grandfather was very careful with money. As he never trusted banks he kept various stashes around the house in jam jars and other secret places.

In the local town a new type of shop opened up - selling cars. Grandad decided he should have one of those things so he went to the shop and was shown the only car they had. Grandad surveyed the car, kicked a tyre or two and marvelled at the engine. He then told the salesman he'd take it. He placed a small suitcase on the table and opened it. It was full of five pound notes! In those days five pounds was a very good weekly wage - and here was hundreds of them!

When the salesman composed himself and the paperwork was complete, Grandad was told of the delivery date. "What do you mean? " he said, "It's right there, I'll take the bugger now! There's no sense in buying a bus ticket if I have a car! Don't be daft man!" Once the reality of the situation set in and Grandad accepted he couldn't take the man's only car, he left and returned on the appointed day.


In those days, licences were unknown and driving instructors unheard of. You bought a car, the salesman showed you how it worked and you drove off. And that is what Grandad did. He set off down the middle of the road, crunching the gears and terrifying horses. For the rest of his driving career, he never bothered with lines on the road or keeping left, he drove right down the centre of the road, just as he would have driven a horse and cart. It must have been a terrifying sight watching him come closer and closer with absolutely no intention of moving over or giving way. He was lucky he had the only car in the district or his perfect driving record may have been spoilt with a head on crash with some other stubborn bugger.