A MAJOR PART OF MY MOTORING LIFE

<p> Morris cars have been a big part of my motoring life. Between my parents and myself, we have owned a range of Morris cars spanning 37 years. So I thought it would be an opportune time to relate the stories of these cars that have been such a major (no pun intended!) part of my motoring life.<br /> <br /> The first was a 1925 Morris Cowley, which was my family’s car when I was born. At the same time, my uncle and aunt, who lived next door, also owned a Morris Cowley; theirs being a 2-seater. In appearance, the Cowley was like a longer and wider version of the Oxford that was featured in the last edition. It still had the gravity-feed petrol tank located behind the dash, as described in the article on the Oxford, but the filler pipe was located outside the car under the bonnet. Ours was a 4-seater with a fold-down canvas roof, although the roof had been fixed in position so it didn’t fold down. The gear-lever and hand-brake were now located inside the car in the usual position, but it still had no driver’s door, which I thought was rather strange. There was an outline of a door pressed into the bodywork, but no actual door. I recall there being doors for the back seat passengers, although a photo I’ve seen of the same model suggests there was only one rear door, on the left of the vehicle.<br /> <br /> The brakes still operated only on the back wheels. This caused a problem one day when descending a steep hill. When my mother applied the brakes a back wheel locked and the car continued to skid down the road, wearing a flat-spot on the tyre about 6 inches long and scrubbing it down to the canvas. That must’ve been exciting! Of course the tyre was changed, and the old one became a plaything for me.<br /> <br /> By 1958 the Morris was well past its use-by date and was taken off the road. It was replaced with a 1940 Ford Prefect that needed a lot of restoration work when it was bought. (It was all my parents could afford at the time). Dad tried selling the Morris, but no-one wanted it. The radiator was sold for scrap (a lot of copper and brass in that!) and the front wheels and axle were sold to a neighbour who was building a trailer. The car then remained in our yard with its front sitting on the ground for many years, giving me an interesting place to play. Eventually it was towed away and dumped in the bush. (I wish I had it now!).<br /> <br /> The next Morris in our family was a 1962 Morris Major Elite. There’s an interesting story of how we came to get this car, because it was actually given to my parents when it was about 3 years old.<br /> <br /> My parents were pensioners and consequently didn’t have a lot of money to spend on cars, so they always had old cars. In 1965 the family car was a 1951 Ford Prefect. At 14 years of age it wasn’t too ancient I suppose, but it was certainly feeling its age and my father was looking to buy a replacement. He also wanted something more modern mechanically than the little old side-valve Prefect. Now, it happened that they were good friends with an elderly couple who owned the afore-mentioned Morris Elite. It had been purchased new by the owners of a local newsagent, then bought a year later by the elderly couple. During the time my father was looking for a car, the wife, who was the only one who drove the car, died. One day while my parents were visiting the grieving husband, he asked my father how our car was going. Dad said it wasn&#39;t going too well, and just brushed the issue aside. But the old chap kept coming back to the issue of Dad’s car and his intention of buying a newer one. Finally he said, “You can have mine.” Dad thanked him for the offer, but said he wouldn’t be able to afford a car like that. The old fellow then said he would give Dad the car, for nothing! All Dad would have to pay was the cost of the expired registration. He explained that ever since his wife had died there had been a constant stream of relatives (who he referred to as “vultures”!) coming around asking if they could have the car. He was, understandably, very upset at this and became determined that none of the family would get it. Instead, he said, he would much rather give it to someone who had been a true friend, was in much more need than any of his relatives, yet had asked for nothing. And so the 3-year old Morris was given to our family.<br /> <br /> The old chap was a keen gardener and, as a small gesture of appreciation, for some time afterwards we would gather horse manure from some paddocks near where we lived, put it in bags, bundle it into the Elite’s boot and deliver it to the old fellow for his garden. I remember this well, as I was the one who had to shovel the manure!<br /> <br /> Although it was a very new car, there were some disturbing knocking sounds from the engine. Dad deduced that it hadn’t been properly run-in and had suffered some bottom-end damage. So at a very low mileage the sump was removed and the big-end bearings replaced. The head came off at the same time and Dad cured another little annoyance. Those engines had a heart-shaped combustion-chamber around the valves, and the pointed bit at the top of the heart shape was known to get hot at the tip, causing pre-ignition or running-on after the motor was turned off. The cure was to file the sharp point off, thus removing the hot-spot. With these issues attended to the car gave reliable service until it had clocked up well over 100,000 miles.<br /> <br /> In 1967 Morris number three entered the Jordan family; a 1954 Morris Minor. This was my car, bought for $110 to replace the first car I had owned, a Goggomobil, which had come to a rather inglorious demise when I ran it off the road and crashed it. This Minor was the first of the OHV models, using the 803cc A-series motor. I don’t recall what mileage it had done, but the little motor was showing its age. After descending a long hill, or if left idling for a short time, when you got back on the throttle it blew a cloud of smoke that would make James Bond proud! I used an oil-additive to reduce the smoke. (I think all it really did was thicken the oil).<br /> <br /> It had the split-windscreen like the earlier side-valve cars, but a re-styled front, with the headlights mounted in the tops of the mudguards rather than either side of the grille. The previous owner had painted the car, but not very well. You’ve probably heard the term “orange-skin” applied to paint finishes; it’s when the paint is applied too thick and instead of being smooth and shiny it has a rough dimpled surface rather like that of an orange-skin. My Minor was an excellent example of that! He had also covered the dash in woodgrain “contact”. Yes, very tacky, but I kind of liked it. I fitted a pretend-leather steering wheel cover and also took the hub-caps off and painted the wheels “chrome”, which was really just a slightly brighter shade of silver-frost! (Amazing the things a young bloke does to “improve” the looks of his car!).<br /> <br /> Although having both cars in the family at the same time, it wasn’t until many years later that I learned of the connection between the two. As you will probably know, both cars were built on the same floor-pan. One day I took a photo of the two cars parked side-by-side and I remember looking at the photo and thinking that the over-all width, and especially the front track, of each looked very similar. They were, of course, exactly the same.<br /> <br /> I learnt the fine art of double-declutching in this car. I could get it into its non-synchro 1st gear without having to stop, courtesy of some deft footwork and a big rev as it passed through neutral. I could only do it at near maximum speed for 1st gear though; any slower and I’d usually mis-judge the revs and crunch it.<br /> <br /> People often say how these old cars were made out of solid steel; well I found out just how solid the steel was one day when the boot-lid fell on my head. I was getting something out of the boot and bumped the prop that held the lid open. The lid promptly swung down and walloped me on the top of the head. It didn’t even mark the boot-lid, but it sure hurt my head! (Some who know me well reckon this explains quite a lot!).<br /> <br /> I did a few trips in the Minor from our home near Wollongong to visit my grandparents at Young; a distance each way of about 300km. My parents went in the Elite and I went in the Minor so that I had my own set of wheels when we got there. On one occasion when we were coming home, my parents and I went to different servos to fill up. We’d arranged to meet on the outskirts of town, but we were both delayed; with me being delayed the most. When my parents got to the pre-arranged meeting spot, they assumed I’d gone on without them, so continued on their way. When I arrived and they weren’t there, I assumed the same thing and also drove on. But not for long. About 12km out of Young the electric petrol-pump stopped working and the Minor came to a stop. If only we’d had mobile phones back then! With no way to contact my parents, I hitched a ride back to Young and eventually to my grandparents’ house. But how was I to contact my parents, who were driving home still assuming I was in front of them? The only way seemed to be to call the police. I figured that by then they’d be getting close to Yass, so I phoned Yass police and explained my predicament. They said they’d help if they could. And so it was that Mum and Dad were pulled over by the police and told there was a message about their son. You can imagine their initial shock at that! But with the situation explained they turned around and began the 90km journey back to Young. It took a couple of days to get the petrol-pump fixed then we headed off again, this time making sure to keep in sight of each other!<br /> <br /> When my father died my mother said that I should take the Elite to use as my car, provided she could use it when needed. So the Minor was sold and the Elite became mine. My mother died two years later.<br /> <br /> The Elite received a few minor (no pun intended!) “modifications” during the time I had owned it. Bonnet-straps had been fitted prior to my taking ownership, but I’ll get to the story behind that shortly. I had the headlight surrounds chromed, fitted dress-rims to the wheels, “tar-baby” deflectors to the front guards and two additional lights; one a fog light and the other a driving-light.<br /> <br /> In 1970 the Morris took me on one of the longest driving holidays I’ve done. I went down the Hume Highway to Melbourne, toured around nearby regions of Victoria, then across through Ballarat and Bordertown to Adelaide, out through the Barossa Valley, and back home around the coast.<br /> <br /> The car also provided me with one of the scariest moments of my motoring life. With Mum and Dad on board, and me at the wheel, we were on our way to visit my grandparents, travelling along the Hume Highway towards Yass. I was driving at about 60mph into a strong headwind when suddenly the combination of the wind and our own progress into it created too much air-pressure for the bonnet-catch and the bonnet blew open. The car was fitted with one of those external metal sun-shields, and the bonnet hit the sun-shield and smashed it down through the windscreen. Suddenly all I could see in front of me was a twisted bonnet and broken windscreen! There were pieces of broken glass everywhere (including in my mouth!), and we were still travelling at 60mph, with no vision of the road ahead. I could’ve (and maybe should’ve!) hit the brakes, but I didn’t; I looked out the side window and kept close to the centre-line (so I wouldn’t run off the road) while I slowed down. When I’d reached crawling pace I tried to peer underneath the bottom edge of the buckled bonnet, pulled over to the side and stopped.<br /> <br /> There was a design-fault responsible for this. The safety-catch that is supposed to hold the bonnet down in an event such as it blowing open was positioned beside the bonnet-latch; resulting in it being a couple of inches off-centre. The unequal area of bonnet each side of the safety-catch resulted in enough extra pressure on one side of the bonnet for it to twist and release itself from the catch. After a 2nd-hand bonnet (off an Austin Lancer – hence the chrome strip down the centre) was fitted, we put on the afore-mentioned racing-style bonnet-straps. My father agreed to the safety aspect of these, and I thought they looked cool!<br /> <br /> Although not capable of the top speed it was sometimes reputed to have (there were stories of the Elite topping 90mph), the car had impressive low-end torque. Steep hills were no trouble in top gear. In fact the car’s performance often caught other drivers out; which provided great enjoyment for me! At the bottom of a steep multi-lane hill a following car would often pull out and overtake, its driver obviously expecting the little Morris to be slow. But often it was them who slowed, and the Morris would drive past them – with its driver having a big smirk on his face, of course!<br /> <br /> On one occasion, coming back from Sydney with a couple of mates in the car, I got involved in a ..um.. “comparison-of-speed” (I won’t call it a “race”) with an EK Holden. He’d get ahead of me on flat or downhill sections, but then on the hills and around corners I’d get ahead of him. When we pulled in at a café to get some milkshakes the Holden pulled in too. We bought our drinks and the Holden driver came over and asked me, “What sort of motor have you got in that?” I proudly announced it was stock standard. My mates were impressed!   <br /> <br /> In 1971 I considered buying a new or near-new car, but I bought a house instead, and the Morris stayed. Shortly after, I taught my then girlfriend (now wife) to drive in it.<br /> <br /> By 1973 the Morris, having been in the family for about 8 years, was starting to show its age with some major (sorry, no pun intended!) failures having occurred. The diff was the first thing to break. Then later it broke a crankshaft. The interesting thing with both of these failures was that the car still drove – albeit only just, and with some horrible noises from the offending area of the car as it did so!<br /> <br /> Eventually, with well over 100,000 miles on the clock and with a 2nd-hand diff and 2nd-hand engine, the time had come to sell. So, just before my wife and I married, the Morris was sold and replaced with a Cortina GT. Although the fiery little Ford served us well on a driving honeymoon through the Snowy Mountains, it ended up being a bit of a disaster, with some serious mechanical problems occurring. After enduring it for about six months, we sold it.<br /> <br /> It was later that year, 1973, when the next, and final, Morris came into my possession. The Cortina had been replaced with a 5-year old Triumph 2000 and my wife and I subsequently decided to buy a second car to save the daily wear-and-tear on the “good car”. It just so happened that a mate of mine was selling a car he’d been using as a second car. It was a 1961 Morris Major Series 2. So we bought it; for $250.<br /> <br /> The car was a bit rough-and-ready, but provided good service as a second car. It was black, which made it rather hot in summer. So, at my wife’s request, we repainted it, in her choice of colour, a light blue. That was my first and only attempt at re-painting a car using the proper compressor and spray gun. Unfortunately, it looked like it was my first attempt too! The finish wasn’t much better than the bloke had achieved with the Minor. To make matters worse, I didn’t remove anything from the bodywork; so all chrome strips, door-handles, bumpers and even the windscreen wipers, were wrapped in masking-tape! You can laugh, but it worked reasonably well; they didn’t get too much paint on them! (I did re-paint a car after this, but used pressure-pack tins. The fact that it ended up being better than the finish achieved on the Major says a lot about my ability with proper painting equipment!).<br /> <br /> The only major (no, I’m not trying to be clever!) failure we had was when it blew a head-gasket. That resulted in my first unaided engine over-haul. Well, a top-end over-haul anyway. My ability with spanners was a lot better than my ability with spray equipment and the repair was carried out very successfully.<br /> <br /> Towards the end of 1975 we decided to up-date and bought a Fiat 1100. That, like the Prefect that replaced the Cowley, and the Cortina that replaced the Elite, turned out to be a bit of a nightmare, with lots of frustrating mechanical work being required. I came to the conclusion that replacing a Morris with a different brand of car was not a good idea!<br /> <br /> So there it is, the story of the Morris cars that I have known. I will always have a soft-spot for the grand old British make; they were good cars in their day and they have played a very important role in my motoring life. I could say they’ve been with me through major and minor life events; and as you groan at this even worse pun, I shall end.<br /> <br />  </p>