Nope, 25 years. Hilda was loyal. Did not look well, at the end of her life. But Dad took so much care of her, fixed all by himself. He always said people need cars they can understand and fix themselves. Well, he says that about any machine, lol.

Everything rusted away, the caroserie was not pretty, but it worked, like a charm. The engine was untouched by any illness.

To put the overalls on and dig under the Lada was his fav past time, apart from building himself a garage for her. His patients mechanics would sell him parts he needed and would teach him (he is a good doctor). Driving it was actually pita for me, tbh (the stiring was hard, the stick shift a headache and handbreak, urgh), but I felt safe. Like in a tank.

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"L'homme ne peut pas remplacer son coeur avec sa tete, ni sa tete avec ses mains." J.H. Pestalozzi

“The only difference between a rut and a grave is a matter of depth.” S.P. Cadman

"Imagination is more important than knowledge." A. Einstein

Tip: When the Brits rip on the Lada, you rip on the MG.

Ok.

What's MG?

The first and only time I've been in a car accident was whilst travelling back from a music festival in a friend's Lada Riva. She had been driving about 3 weeks after passing her test and we T-boned a Ford Sierra. The Sierra was utterly written off with a big Lada shaped square punched into its passenger door side and the Lada had a scratch and a broken headlight.

I'll hear nothing bad about Ladas.

MG: Morris Garage. Formerly a builder of fine british motorcars. Lord Nuffield was the donor of Nuffield College, Oxford. Completely knackered by BMC, otherwise known as British Elend.

Something makes me think that you would kind of like the Moggy:

http://www.simoncars.co.uk/morris/minors5.html

She was probably quite tired and needed a rest after 21 days of solid driving.

Young and daft in those heady days, young and daft...

A beautiful rust sculpture that somehow manages to get on the road for a short period of time.

I take it you're no longer young then

We rolled downhill in our Lada, because commies put road signs completely wrong on that spot. That place had more accidents than cars that passed untouched. Rolling downhill in Lada gave me only a minor break of cartilage in my ear, I had a poor quality headphones on, listening to a walkman. Everybody else was unharmed. Lada was a champion. The only thing was the gas it took, too much.

It is actually funny seeing so many Škodas around, reminds me home. It is here and home, people go for ok cars for ok price. So popular here.

The rubber bumper variants were the pinnacle... your hands wouldn't freeze to them when pushing it somewhere in sub zero temperatures.

Actually, up till the late 'B MG made some pretty neat cars. The B V8 was a blast when you got it running.

ftfy

Evidence of a complete lack of crumple zones and therefore no crash protection for the occupants of the Lada.

There is only one British effeminate roadster worth owning



(I didn't include the Plus 8 (bit too manly) nor the Dart (as the steering requires 7 people to turn). But the Dart did lead me to this - and 12 cylinders of loveliness)

There was enough camping gear stuffed around us to absorb even the vaguest wobble in the car. Plus we were not even 20 years old at that time and things like whiplash hadn't even been invented...

Harken back to the heady days of 1971:

Jaguar introduced the V12 E-Type

Triumph was making the best TR6

Alfa introduced the Alfasud

Dodge, the Ram Van

MG?.... the Marina.

'nuff said.

We had a couple of them back in the day - first up the fastback And then my dad paid £100 for a van at auction - which spent a year ploughing up and down the M5/A38 to renovating a cottage every weekend.

Meanwhile my grandfather maintained an Allegro 1750HL in immaculate condition

I had an MG Midget with a hole on the floor where I could see the road going by. I had to pop the clutch to get it started, and thought about making the hole bigger and run like the Flintstones. I had to fix something on it every other trip.

I had a TR7 and the right front wheel once rolled off ahead of the car during a stop. I had to chase after the tire on foot for nearly a quarter of a mile.

In retrospect, I should feel lucky I survived them. The Brits must be blessed with grace and luck.

Oh yeah! I'd own her any day. (Not the pappi).

The winter of discontent made special demands of the population.

A used Moggy traveller would a have been less than 100 at the time.

My sister's first car was a Marina. She called it "Patches" because it had various different shades of baby shit yellow paint on the repairs. I called it "Patches" because that is what I kept having to weld into it.

It was a car for people of character: with just the right weather conditions (about this time of the year) the carb piston would ice up at highway speed, so when you lifted your foot off the gas as your exit came up it would just continue whining along at the same clip. (Yes, it had the special equipment carb bell heater, yes it was connected and working, no it did not make any difference.)

It's demise came when it needed a new clutch. I removed the rear trans mount and as I let the jack with the engine and GB down the body collapsed in the middle. Sad, in a mildly entertaining way.

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If everyone you know agrees with you consistently, they are either not listening, or not capable of critical thought.