Morris Minors This is a tale of three Morris Minors, once upon a time. Liz had an old green Morris Minor. It knew the road between Liverpool and Derbyshire intimately and she was generous with her lifts until the day the breaks failed completely. We had just passed the Cat And Fiddle, right on the tops with the long steep decent ahead. Liz was a good driver. My Morris Minor was black with stripes of rust in its wheel arches and no floor at the back. Back seat passengers came away with wet feet. Even the patching with beer cans made little difference. It failed the test. Alan had a white Morris Minor with a perfect body, breaks and floor, but the gear box was shattered. The gears didn’t work. Still no one could steal it. The three of us put our heads together and came up with a solution. We would put the best bits together to make one car which we would share. Liz and Alan were cool mechanics and I made good coffee to keep them going. We were pleased with ...
