<em>Illustration: Simon Letch</em>  Illustration: Simon Letch
WHEN we moved south we were renting out of town, so there was no
way of managing without a second car. Adrian was pretty much my
only contact in the area, and we were going to be teaching
together at the little school in Branley, and it just so
happened his son-in-law had a '74 Kingswood for sale, chestnut
brown, duel fuel, manual (''three on the tree''), very clean. I
bought it.  My children were in primary school at the time, and
a car was a car. I used to drive them everyday. The arguments
and outright abuse didn't start until they hit high school.
Then there were daily complaints about the ''bomb'', the ''heap
of sh..'', the ''You'd have to be a retard to drive around in a
car like this.'' Because it had no heating, on a winter morning
the abuse level rose to skirmish, with constant, intermittent
sniper fire all the way to school.  The older the children grew,
especially the boys, the more animated their condemnations
became. Day after day af