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It was the countryside. There were no buses. Well, there were - one a day into and out of Cheltenham (the 'work' bus, because it got you there for just before nine and left again circa ten to six) during the week, ditto Saturday (but towards lunchtime) and one once a week in the other direction for people who liked to visit Winchcombe on a Wednesday morning.
Thus one applied for one's licence as early as possible and blapped around on an ancient Suzuki (or Yamaha) two-stroke Miasma. A year later one saved for driving lessons, passed as quickly as possible and then rattled around in an ancient Mini or Escort.
If you were a bloke.
Girls just went out with car-driving chaps. Which always seemed a bit... dependant.
Thus one applied for one's licence as early as possible and blapped around on an ancient Suzuki (or Yamaha) two-stroke Miasma. A year later one saved for driving lessons, passed as quickly as possible and then rattled around in an ancient Mini or Escort.
If you were a bloke.
Girls just went out with car-driving chaps. Which always seemed a bit... dependant.
