Thanks for the lift Sir Jackie and Rod
Make parking free at the weekends
The last time I sat behind the wheel of a car, T- Rex sat at No 1, Edward Heath sat at No 10 and a pint of lager in Ayr’s Christina’s Bar sat at 28p.
I’ve seen guys in tears after losing their licence for 12 months.
My self- imposed ban is approaching year number 46.
And I’ve never regretted a minute of it.
But hey – 47 years ago, it was a different story.
I dreamed of being a driver from the moment I unwrapped my first Scalextric set.
In my teens, I trawled the stands at the Ayr Motor Show in Dam Park Hall, collecting brochures on the latest Porche, E- Type Jaguar or Lotus Elan – then calculated how big a newspaper round I’d need to afford one!
I used to watch Jackie Stewart in special motor sport screenings at the old Civic Theatre.
And on my 17th birthday, I pooled all the cash gifts to buy a provisional licence, a set of “L” plates and James Taylor’s ‘ Mud Slide Slim’ LP. I remember the day vividly.
I was so excited at getting handed the little red licence – I left the James Taylor album behind on the counter!
All those dreams came to a shuddering halt on the day I clipped my dad’s ‘ L’- plated Ford Corsair into a Ford Anglia while taking the corner of Craigie Road and Craigie Way.
I froze in panic and mounted the pavement . . . missing a woman and a pram by the width of a wing mirror as my dad pulled the hand- brake.
Yes – that’s the shuddering half I mentioned earlier!
Nobody was hurt – but the woman quite naturally screamed in fright.
And she screamed for a full five minutes before anyone could calm her down.
It was awful.
When my dad finally coaxed me back for another driving lesson – the sound of her screaming came back as well.
My dad paid for a professional instructor in the hope that he could rid me of my demons.
But I started inventing illness, dental appointments and funerals – anything to avoid a driving lesson.
The instructor finally twigged and told me “Bob, until you actually WANT to drive, I don’t think I can help you”.
And the rest, as they say, is history. But hey – taxi drivers seem to like me.
I do make a very good passenger – and I have thousands of people to thank for giving me lifts over the years.
Unbelievably, that list includes Jackie Stewart – yes, the same one I saw in the Civic Theatre all those years ago!
I was interviewing him – and it was his turn to go for the office sandwiches. Seriously!
“Bob, before we go, you can’t mention or photograph the car,” he told me.
“No problem” I replied – I was just excited at being driven to a Tesco near Northampton by a three times formula one world champion.
It was a dinky wee thing – with no model name and no manufacturer’s name or logo to be seen anywhere.
“I’m test driving it for Ford. It’s a bit top secret,” said Jackie.
It must have passed the Stewart test.
A year later Ford unveiled it – as the “Ka”!
Anyway, what’s all this to do with the price of a parking ticket? Well, nothing of course.
But never having had one – or paid a parking fine in my life – I’m not best placed to comment on car parking.
Or the £ 1.2 million of parking fines raised by South Ayrshire Council in the last four years.
But it does seem like an awful lot of money.
And from a South Ayrshire Council point of view – a lot of money to find from somewhere else if the restrictions were relaxed.
However, there could be a halfway house by marking parking free – at weekends only.
This would make local business more accessible - and make our beaches more attractive for locals and day trippers.
Anyway, did I mention that Rod Stewart gave me a lift once? Well, it was his chauffeur actually. We were both going to a Scotland game and Rod . . . ( That’s enough lifts – Ed)
There could be a half- way house by marking parking free – at weekends only