Our car was a white Volvo Estate.
I remember being embarrassed of the car if Dad came to pick us up from school. I remember burning my bare legs on the hot seats in the summer. I remember me and my sisters counting Christmas trees as we travelled to visit our family on winter Sundays. It always ended in a row because one of us would start making up sightings, to get the highest score. I remember listening to the Top 40 as we drove home. I remember making a bed in the boot, for the overnight journey to Scotland every summer. I remember the hypnotic flashes of the motorway lights as I drifted off to sleep. I remember waking up in the early hours and seeing the lone wanderers in Glasgow. I remember watching the sun coming up, dancing on the water, as we drove alongside the lochs. I remember Elvis cassettes playing.
I am the grown-up now, driving my own children around, continuing the cycle. Our car is a 1964 MG Magnette. I wonder what part it has played in other people’s lives? I am attempting to contact the nine previous owners, hoping to create an archive of their photographs, and anecdotes, from the last 50 years.
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