Hell on the Highway

Dad's new car was a Triumph Herald. Actually, it wasn't really new and was not much of a triumph, nor something to shout about either. He was proud as punch though, bringing our first family car home the evening before our annual week's summer holiday.


Holidays were a trying time back in those days, the early 1960s. For the short six weeks of the school holidays, the weekends became like the migration of lemmings. The English road system was pretty much as had existed since the 1930s, when there were probably more horse-drawn vehicles rutting the newly-metalled surfaces than those of the petrol driven variety.


Dad had always had a motorcycle and, as the eldest and only boy, I would cling like a limpet onto Dad's back wherever we roamed. Meanwhile, Mum and my two young sisters, plus most of the luggage (other than what could be stuffed into two bike panniers) went by bus, underground, coach, train or whatever combination was available, to seaside resorts like Clacton, Southend, Margate or Hastings. The acquisition of the motor car meant we could all travel together and venture further afield, even unto the holy grail of the West Country. Yes, Paignton, in the county of Devon, became ou...

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Tony Spencer
May 28 2020

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This really brought back memories of our own journeys to the West Country when we were young. Great fun!

Rod Webb
Jun 6 2020

I really enjoyed this - such a great trip down memory lane - and it made me chuckle out loud more than once.

Rod Webb
May 30 2020