The Wolseley was the first car that I owned. I had seen it on the drive of a house for several months getting more neglected looking and plucked up courage to knock at the door. Not when the man of the house might be home though; I tried a ploy that worked well for me in my early days of car ownership.
This was to speak with the lady of the house, working on the principle that she would be glad to see the back of the car. I mentioned a possible price and asked when I should call back. “Tonight” was the response, and I went back cash in pocket and ended up the proud owner of this beast with its 3 litre straight 6 engine.
A pall came with me the next night to tow it home and I got it running. It saw me through about 7 months before the diff made a rude noise and I parked it up for a while, eventually selling it for scrap.
From memory it was a 1961 model, a Mark 1, and in two tone green. With column gear change and huge leather front seats it was an ideal passion wagon for an amorous 19 year old. A lot more luxurious than the Minis and Anglias of my peers that alone have me a slight advantage in the pulling stakes, and, if things got interesting, there was no need to risk breaking the spell by having to climb into the back.
As with starting my driving with a Rolls Royce, my entry into car ownership was also at the luxury saloon end. Things would start to slide from there on until much later in life.
driverjohn 