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My father could often be found in the garage repairing his car - a Ford Cortina, and more often than not, I'd be there helping him. He had inherited it from his aunt who thought owning a car was something she had to do. Unfortunately, the only time she ever drove it was to get it registered.

Although the Cortina was a beautiful car, it had a terrible tendency to rust - be it fenders, doors, floor, muffler, whatever - the Cortina was more a mobile rust farm than four door sedan. Dad would often give me impromptu lessons on car maintenance as he worked on it - how to tune an engine, how to replace the wheel bearings, how to use a muffler bandage, and more often than not - how to use rust converter.

After a while, he got a company car (a minibus - much more roomy than a standard people mover) and the Cortina was left to slowly decay in the front driveway. One afternoon we agreed - dad and I would get the car running, restore it, and it would become my first car when I turned 16. We attacked the car that weekend, clearing away spiders, changing batteries, topping up fluids - and generally trying to get the engine to fire. In the end, we took the air filter off and poured a cup of Super down the carburettor throat - the metre high gout of flame when the engine finally fired was quite an impressive sight.

A fortnight later, we sold the car to another restorer for spare parts - the body damage due to rust and sun exposure was just too great. But still, that car was a great catalyst for spending time with my dad.

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This scene was drawn for me by mistystriker
Artwork is ©  mistystriker

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