When dad's old farina Morris Oxford could be bodged through an MOT no more, he returned home one day with an Old English White 'Woody' Mini Traveller. Trouble was, there were four of us kids, aged from six to 11.
On shopping nights we'd sit four abreast on the rear seat, at other times I'd choose the rear compartment and a couple of pillows. Did my first gearchanging in that car, dad driving us back from the Sunday morning swimming session guarding his chlorine-burned eyes from the sun while I selected gears with a bit of coaching.
A trip to Bournemouth for a week's holiday saw us six and 'big' Nan and her sister all crammed in with our luggage piled high on the roof and the poor old car's underside nearly dragging on the floor for the 60-odd mile trip to Boscombe!
One day, dad left the keys in the ignition outside our house and nodded off to sleep on the settee, woke up at midnight and the car was gone. Found a mile up the road with a front wing smashed in. Insurance coughed up and he got a Maxi.