Michael
STEERING COLUMN
Copping stick
from the kids
Back when I were a lad, one
could gain a NSW driving
licence in either an automatic
or manual car. The only thing
standing in the way of the
former was the thoroughly
deserved shaming and
ridicule from schoolmates.
Transmissions have moved
on, with automated dual-
clutch manuals now
common, and so have the
offi cial rules: in NSW, a P1
licence gained in a two-pedal
car is now thus restricted,
until the driver graduates to
P2 status or tests separately
in a manual. But can anyone
tell me the new schoolyard
rules on paddle-shifts?I’ve been thinking about generational stuff
because I’ve just been giving my daughters some
more driving lessons. They’re aged 12 and 11. For
the past couple of years, on visits to my in-laws’
farm, I’ve bundled the Stahlettes into the trusty
Hilux 4WD and set off on the well-graded dirt
roads of the property.
At first I’d sit in the driver’s seat, legs splayed,
and work the pedals while a Stahlette steered.
We’ve progressed to using lounge cushions, and
they can drive themselves.
Swap the 1990s-vintage Hilux for my mum’s Fiat
500 or a borrowed (and usually BMC) product,
thecushionsforastackofYellowPages,andthe
farm for a motorkhana ground, and the grinning
10-year-oldatthewheelwasme.
Both my parents competed in and organised
motorsport, Pop later becoming editor ofRacing
Car Newsmagazine for more than 20 years. Peter
Wherrett was a contributing writer and family
friend and when, in the late-1960s, he set up
Australia’s first advanced driving school, my
parents were closely involved.
Wherrett’s curiosity extended to an experiment
under psychology Professor Sid Lovibond, of the
University of NSW, wherein a club member’s car
was fitted with a crude sideways-sliding seat
with a catch mechanism. Driven around Oran
Park, it was designed to establish whether visual
or seat-of-the-pants cues told the driver the car
was out of control.
In this sort of environment, my parents
preached that driving a car and driving on the
road were quite separate things; and that the
first should be well in hand before attempting
the second. Regular weekends at car club events
andmydad’shavingaccesstopresscarsmadeit
a perfect storm for my two older sisters and me.
And so, from the age of seven – possibly
earlier–I’dsitinPop’slap,steeringarounda
grassy field or dirt access road while he operated
thepedals.Minis,MokesandsmallMorriseswere
most manageable, particularly when I could
solo by age 10. The first car I remember driving
by myself was a purple Mini Marcos coupe.
I can clearly remember an earlier steering
lesson, in the just-launched Morris 1500 Nomad
(1969, making me six or seven). Pop drove to
the Windsor Speedway, outside Sydney, which
had not long closed down. We got onto the
track, me steering from Pop’s lap, when he
yanked on the handbrake mid-turn. As the
tail shot out, I wound on correction.
“Tell me, why did you do that?” Pop asked.
He’d simply been wondering if correcting a‘PLUS ÇA CHANGE, PLUS C’EST LA MÊME CHOSE’, AS THEY SAY. WELL, MY TWO
DAUGHTERS WOULD BE ABLE TO SAY THAT, AS THEY’VE BOTH BEEN LEARNING
FRENCH SINCE THE AGE OF THREE. MY WIFE AND I NOW REALISE THAT A
BETTER BET MIGHT HAVE BEEN ON CHINESE OR ARABIC OR (ON LONG ODDS)
NORTH KOREAN, BUT WE’VE LONG NURSED A DREAM TO ONE DAY SPEND
CHUNKS OF OUR TWILIGHT YEARS IN A QUIET CORNER OF FRANCE.
Swap the farm for a motorkhana ground, and
the grinning 10-year-old at the wheel was me
slide was instinctual or otherwise. “Well, because
I wanted to go that way,” I said.
I guess I can now say that the wheel has turned.
Even to the point where Stahlette #1 is asking
if I can borrow a new Mini for our next trip to
the farm. You read it here first. Unless you’re
the Mini press fleet manager, in which case, you
never saw this.MINI
DRIVER28 wheelsmag.com.au