Driver of The Day

13^th November 2009

My Driver of the Day Trophy

I only have one racing driver's trophy to my name but for many years to come that trophy will remain a prized possession serving to remind me of my very first drive in my Standard 8.

It was late into a mid-November afternoon when an apple-green Standard 8 from 1957 and two hopeful passengers arrived at the gates of Knockhill Racing Circuit. My partner Chris had spent most of the day weaving the Standard along narrow and frosted country lanes.  I meanwhile had sat patiently in the passenger seat.  We had been looking for an opportunity for me to drive somewhere quiet and away from all other traffic. 

It was just over a month since I’d bought my Standard 8, known as Henry.  In only a few weeks, several hundred more miles had accumulated on the odometer.  Within our first weekend with Henry, we had covered over 400 miles whilst travelling home to Scotland, having bought Henry in the village of Alvechurch, just south of Birmingham.  All these miles covered by my car and yet I hadn’t driven an inch. 

Prior to a day’s train travel from Scotland to view Henry, a classic car insurance policy had been taken out through the AA.  The policy was to cover the return trip to Scotland if I did indeed decide to buy Henry and in addition, it would also cover any driving over the following year.  This policy was not to come without a major flaw for it wouldn’t cover me as a driver of the car.

Upon trying to arrange classic car insurance through the AA, I was told that I wouldn’t be able to drive my Standard 8 on the policy being offered until I’d turned 25.  Right from the start, the insurance would cover my partner Chris but it wouldn’t cover me until I was able to satisfy the minimum age criteria.  I was 24 years old when I viewed and purchased my Standard 8. Whilst doing this, I had been able to look all round the car, sit in the driving seat and ask any questions I had but I was unable to do a test-drive. I wasn’t old enough to get classic car insurance and this meant that even a 5 minute test-drive was illegal.  Instead, my partner Chris drove Henry through the Alvechurch streets as I tried to decide whether or not the Standard could really be my very first car.

The day of buying my Standard 8 proved to be a very emotional and exciting one despite a complete lack of driving on my part.  I was enormously excited to now have my own car and as an added bonus for it to be a classic.  My happiness poured out with ease to anyone who happened to ask about my new purchase but the age stipulation continued to keep me out of the driver’s seat for a whole month.  I had to be patient and wait to be old enough to be eligible for my insurance. 

This waiting game seemed ridiculous at times but it wasn’t a matter of choice.  Prior to Henry’s purchase, my partner Chris & I had sat and contacted countless insurance companies to arrange cover for the Standard 8 that we might have been bringing back from Alvechurch.  The majority had simply given a flat “no” upon hearing my license was only a provisional.  Many hadn’t even bothered to say whether or not they’d insure a young person with a classic - simply hanging up instead.  Perhaps they thought we were wasting their time for a joke.  In the end, the AA were the only company who didn’t seem to mind my provisional license and so despite their 25 year old minimum age restriction, their policy had seemed the best bet for allowing me to drive my car within the near future.  My intention being to undertake driving lessons with a qualified instructor and then practice in between with Henry.  Learners are encouraged to build up their driving experience with supervision to compliment their driving lessons and I saw no problem in doing this in my own car.  It would perhaps spare someone else the worry about their own vehicle until I passed my test.  What I hadn’t realized when I bought Henry was that classic cars and provisional drivers simply don’t mix for the classic insurance companies.

My excitement about finally getting to drive, a month after buying my car, had built up in the week before my 25^th but heartbreak was to come on the 11^th November when I found yet another insurance policy stipulation that would keep me off the road.  Now in addition to being a minimum of 25 years old, I would also need a year’s worth of driving experience.  This meant my policy now required me to have a full license and then have driven in something else for a whole year before I could be insured for my Standard 8. I was just getting started on learning to drive when I had purchased Henry and it didn’t take long for the realization to come that it could be a year, perhaps two, before I’d be able to meet this previously unstated policy requirement.

The slopes of Bishop Hill, near Kinross

Our search for a quiet road continued along backroads by the foot of Bishop Hill, by Kinross.  As we passed by, the slopes were illuminated by a winter sun low on the horizon. With the gentlest of touches, the shadows of silent gliders above the hill made their way across the freezing landscape.  It was an idyllic scene but my heart was heavy. 

The fact that there was a strong chance I wouldn’t be able to drive my newly-purchased car for up to two years felt unthinkable.  Why couldn’t I be insured for my Standard 8 just as I would have been had I bought a small, modern runabout?  And why did I have to be 25 or over to drive my car?  At 25 I could have had a mortgage or perhaps started a family but for some reason I wasn’t allowed to drive a 28bhp classic from 1957.  Perhaps the stipulation was in place to protect classics from new drivers.  Perhaps young people were too much of a risk.  No matter what the reason, I couldn’t think why it was that I’d have to wait two years to drive the car I’d just chosen for myself.  Was it really so bad to own something a bit different as a young driver?  Is it the case that young people shouldn’t really drive classics?

The disappointment I felt seemed to follow us unremittingly along the scenic country roads.  There was simply no getting away from it – without insurance I couldn’t drive my car legally and I knew it would take a notable amount of time to pass my driving test and build up the driving experience I needed before classic insurance companies would even hear me out.  As a result, our drive in Henry that afternoon felt incredibly sad.  Henry chugged enthusiastically along the charming country lanes, passing rustic old farms and beautiful scenery as we went.  It was just like one of those daydreams I’d had as I had sat on cramped buses, longing for the day when I would be able to afford and drive a classic car.  But the daydream, now almost reality, simply made me want to cry.  It just didn’t feel fair that I would have to wait so long to sit on the other side of my car.

The winding country lanes brought us out near Knockhill – the racing circuit where I’d once completed a work placement.  Having been unable to find the gumption to drive on the public roads as an uninsured driver (and therefore an illegal driver), we headed for the circuit in the hope that the private track grounds might provide a last hope for driving Henry that day.

Knockhill at Sunset

The sunset lit circuit was my final hope of a drive in Henry on my 25th

Upon entering the Circuit Office, I asked in for Bruce Pirie, my work placement supervisor from many years ago.  In 2003, Bruce received a letter from a 17 year old college student who claimed to love all things car and motorsport related.  The student had written to request a work placement at the circuit to satisfy part of a media qualification and two weeks later, I had been directing car manufacturers and racing drivers around the paddocks & pits as a trainee as part of a media & PR day which launched the 2003 Knockhill Events Calendar.  In the short time I was there, Bruce & I developed a strong relationship.  When my work placement ended, I didn’t want to leave.  Even now, my week’s work at Knockhill continues to be the best job I ever had.

As I waited for Bruce, I could see Henry out of the window, parked on the tarmac. Daylight slipped away. Then the receptionist directed me through to the familiar circuit office. Bruce looked intrigued by the surprise visit. Sitting on the couch that had seen the likes of Colin McRae and Jackie Stewart grace its faded covers, I told Bruce of my delight on finally becoming a car-owner.  He was equally thrilled as he looked out to the Standard 8 outside.  I then also recalled my difficulties with getting car insurance and how this was now preventing me from being able to drive my car.  Bruce, like many others, was unsure on how to advise on the insurance regulations but was instead able to offer a temporary solution.

"You can drive the Standard on private property without worrying about the insurance and with that you'll find that Paddock 2 just happens to be free."

I was thrilled. I jumped up to hug Bruce but he was keen to see me get outside. 

"Hurry - not much time before the circuit shuts for the day." And so I ran out to the car park.

"Paddock 2 - we've got an hour!" I said as I climbed into the passenger seat.

Chris drove us through the circuit grounds to Paddock 2 and there we swapped seats.  As I sat in front of Henry’s steering wheel, I was unsure of what to expect. I’d had my provisional license for a few weeks now but was yet to take any driving lessons.  However, I knew the basic procedures of pulling away and stopping from past attempts on the deserted runway at Crail airfield and in an empty field in Luss with our much-loved Fiat Cinquecento and so I was keen to have a try.

Henry waits on his new driver in Paddock 2

Henry was ticking over nicely so there was no need for me to use the choke to get going.  However, there were a couple of unexpected surprises that needed addressing before I could go about pulling away.  The first surprise was how far away my feet were from the controls.  As soon as I got into the driver’s seat, it was clear I was going to need some help to reach Henry’s pedals. Because the seats couldn’t be moved, we instead rolled up an old coat and popped it behind me. I made a mental note to buy a rather large cushion or two for future driving.  The second surprise was the unusual shape of the accelerator – the pedal being rounded rather than flat.  Although this initially felt somewhat odd underfoot, I soon got used to it and found I got to quite like the smooth delivery of throttle that I was able to achieve with it. 

Paddock 2 was primarily flat and open.  White painted lines crissed and crossed on the tarmac.  These humble lines normally serve to guide the teams and drivers to their designated pits during motorsport events but soon enough they stood for an imaginary town complete with junctions, parking areas and even a roundabout or two.  As the paddock simulated many typical motoring challenges, I found I had to steer nearly continuously for the area we had was not particularly large.  There was little respite from the steering input required and soon my arms began to ache with the effort.  The ribs of the steering wheel ran through my fingers.  The wheel felt narrow and delicate in my hands but the steering itself did not.  It felt remarkably heavy.  As I continued around our imaginary motoring complex, I hoped that the steering would prove more maneuverable at higher speeds and Chris assured me that it would.

Happy Henry Driving

An hour of driving passed in what felt like only minutes.  It was dark and the circuit staff began leaving for home. We headed back towards the Circuit Office in the hope of finding Bruce to say thank you.  We found him out in the grounds as we made our return.  He’d been looking for us too.

“It’s not much but I thought you were driving well enough down in the paddock to qualify for this.”

Bruce said as he handed me a small metal trophy in the shape of a steering wheel through Henry’s passenger window.

“Driver of the Day” I read out aloud.

“Yes, Driver of the Day – a well deserved trophy for your efforts down in Paddock 2.” Bruce smiled.

A satisfied pair

I was delighted.  Our time at Knockhill had passed by so quickly but every moment had felt precious.  Even the freezing November wind that blew through the circuit couldn’t bring my spirits down. I wasn’t sure if Bruce realized how much of a favour he had done for us that day but I hoped he realized how much I appreciated it.  Driving around a car park at little more than 10mph is perhaps not a commonly requested thing to do for a birthday but it felt like it meant the world to me.  As Henry left Knockhill, I held the trophy in my hands on my lap.  I knew it would probably be a long time before I’d be driving Henry again.  It would have been easy to slip back into feeling down about the whole matter but now I felt I had something to think back on while I worked on tackling the difficulty of getting insurance for my classic car.  For the time being, my drive at Knockhill would at least allow me to describe what my car felt like to drive and to have something real to build my driving plans on.

Henry & I

This article forms part of my Henry & I column.  It has not yet been published on the Standard Motor Club website but a link will be posted here as soon as it goes up.


See the photographs which accompany this Henry & I article:


http://www.flickr.com/vintagehighlands/sets/72157625696590693


Living in Scotland as a Standard car owner?  There is a local group for Standard car owners & enthusiasts in Scotland.  Please see this page for more info:


http://www.standardmotorclub.org.uk/club/local_group_scotland.htm