In the early Seventies I was the proud owner of VWN 158, a 1958 Morris Minor 1000 with no heater and a rudimentary air-conditioning system (a hole in the floor which delivered a cooling blast even during a Welsh winter). I was living in Swansea and courting (there's an outdated word for you) a lovely girl from Enfield. Consequently I became quite familiar with the pre-M4 route to London. On these journeys VWN 158 decided to add excitement by losing battery power so that the lights would fade and finally die. In September 1971, I set off in sunshine from Swansea for Enfield. I chugged my way through South Wales, rested for a while in Chepstow, and was continuing through the Cotswolds in the gathering dusk when I began to become suspicious of my lights. I pressed on, becoming more and more convinced the Morrie was up to one of its little japes. Finally, I decided the problem was serious. I found a phone box and called the AA. The patrolman arrived, examined the car, and pronounced the lights 'fit for purpose'. I must have looked puzzled, as with professional politeness he then said: 'Do you always wear your sunglasses in the dark, sir?'

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