That vintage car experience

Yesterday I flew back from a conference with some colleagues.  One of them offered us a lift home from the airport, which we gratefully accepted.  He escorted us to his 1968 Jaguar Mark II and we climbed in.  It brought back memories of how motoring used to be (although not, in my family's case, anything as posh as a Jaguar).  You had to slam the doors shut.   The seat belts were adjusted manually rather than having inertial reels.  The dashboard had fewer controls than a modern car, and the windows had to be hand wound.

That was all well and good, but when we got to Balerno, the engine died and wouldn't restart.  So we got the entire 1960's driving experience of getting out and pushing, trying to bump start the car, having a momentary success that quickly faded, and finally pushing the car to the side of the road and calling the AA.  The only concession to modernity was that we used a mobile phone, although it was fortunate that I'm a bit of a luddite on that front because mine was the only one with any charge left, my colleagues all being keen on mobile e-mail.

Once we were sure that help was on its way, us passengers phoned a taxi and proceeded home in comfort, if not in style.