Written by Gordon Aspey
28 July 2019
During the 1950’s a good way to get fit was to purchase a car, preferably with a starting handle affixed through the bumper. This was an essential bit of kit to get the car going when the battery was flat (very frequently). For those who can remember, failure to start the engine after 6 cranks you were in for a strenuous period on a par with 4 hours in the local gym.
There were many reasons why a car wouldn’t start. One of the more common problems would be the choke, a cute little button on the dashboard. The idea being to deliver extra petrol to the carburettor, If the mixture with the oxygen became too rich, (Over choked being the correct term)-you were back on the starting handle with the ignition switched off to clear the carburettor of excess fuel. This would be equivalent to another morning in the Gym. Other problems would be condensation in the cylinders, dirty fuel, and incorrect gap to the points, plus many more.
Then there were more sophisticated task like removing the engine and humping it onto the kitchen table where you could decarbonise the cylinders and grind in the valves with brasso. These tasks were responsible for burning vast quantities of carbohydrates’. At week-ends there would be the regular wash and wax treatment, maybe the need to change punctured tyres and crawling under the chassis for the annual oil change.
One of the surprising points of the period was the army of volunteers ready to help you get your car started.
‘D’yer want a shove mate?’ In no time at all you could have half a dozen helpers eager to assist you without any suggestion of payment. Neighbours were friendlier in those days and a dodgy battery inadvertently helped with community cohesion.
On occasion the starter motor would stick; the answer to this problem would be to put the car in first gear and rock the car back and forth until it cleared. The helpers would be particularly useful for this energy sapping operation. The added bonus for them were lifts into town when the buses were on strike (very frequent). So people could be fitter without the need for gym membership and we were doing our bit to counteract global warming and diabetes 2.
When I first moved to London I bought a retired War Department, Air Force blue Vauxhall saloon. It was a real pig to start, even with a good battery. At the time I lived in a small flat on top of a hill. A regular trick I used to get the engine to start on a cold morning. I would wedge a brick on the clutch, turn on the ignition, wind the window down and grabbing the steering wheel through the open window give the car a good shove. When the car picked up speed I would leap into the car kick the brick off the clutch and juggle with the accelerator and brake to gain control. This technique never failed, although I did get an all mighty fright one morning when I slipped, but fortunately recovered in time to avoid crashing into the back of a large red bus. The terrified look of the conductor preparing to leap off the bus will always be with me.
The popularity of the car has been going downhill ever since. Quite apart from the hundreds of millions of people killed and maimed every year, we are told it is polluting the atmosphere and contributing to global warming. Far from making us fit it is responsible for the increase in cancer, asthma and other respiratory diseases.
Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot who invented the car would surely be appalled that his genius had caused so much death and destruction. The death total would probably eclipse the numbers killed in the last two world wars. He would surely be puzzled about the clamour to protect the jobs of the car workers making even more cars. If you can believe the figures, these same workers can expect a shorter life span of ten years due to the pollution.
It’s a crazy world!