How it all began...

A while back a friend asked me how I got into 4x4s, and curiously, despite my age, it wasn’t all that difficult to remember.

It all started when I watched Lee Majors in the Fall Guy driving, mostly flying, his modified GMC pick up. Did you know that they moved the engine and gearbox back three feet, and did away with the front prop shaft to eliminate damage whilst performing the jumps? Ha, the useless information you pick up over the years. Anyway, as far as I can remember, that’s when my (un)healthy interest in 4x4s first began.

After leaving school in ’83, my first job entailed catching a couple buses, and next to one of the bus stops was a wonderful newsagent that sold a lot of weird and wonderful magazines, and that’s when I bought my first American 4x4 magazine ‘Four Wheeler’.

The following year, in 1984, whilst wandering around W. H. Smiths during my lunch break, I came across the first issue of ‘Off Road & 4 Wheel Driver’ magazine edited by David Bowyer, Brian Hartley and Mike Hallett. Recognise those names? It had previously been known as ‘Over-Lander’ but had become so popular that Link House took it over, and from a bimonthly magazine it became a monthly.

As a lanky 17 year old, it was in ‘Off Road & 4 Wheel Driver’ magazine that I noticed Land Rovers, in particular the military Lightweight. I was smitten, and despite being well out of my budget, they became my object of desire - along with Linda Lusardi!

Then, one Saturday morning in 1987-ish, whilst visiting C&A Land Rovers in Colne, I came across a 1976 Marine Blue Series III 109 Hardtop for sale at a bargain price of just £1,500. At the time, Lightweights were still too expensive for me, so I decided to bite the bullet and trade in my Mk2 Escort for my first Land Rover. It was inevitably going to happen at some point, and who knew back then how it would change my life.

A lot has happened since then, but I can still recall some fun memories of that 109. For instance, getting a puncture on the way home after buying her, not only couldn’t I find the bloomin’ jack, but there was no wheel brace either. Yeah, that wasn’t a fun one, I had to walk a couple of miles to find a phone box so I could phone my Dad to come and rescue me.

On the subject of being rescued by my Dad, I really shouldn't mention that balmy evening when I was parked up with a girlfriend by the side of a reservoir. Honestly, nothing happened, we’d simply parked up, eating a Chinese takeaway whilst listening to Richard Serling’s Soul Source on Red Rose Radio… and flattening the battery in the process! Oh, the embarrassment of trying to find another phone box in the countryside. Young ‘uns these days will never know the fun we had before having a phone in your pocket.

Funnily enough, I was parked up in the same spot a few weeks later, this time during the day with a fully charged battery, when a bloke approached me and asked, with confidence, if he could borrow an adjustable spanner to fix his son’s bike.

“What makes you think I have an adjustable spanner?” I asked.

“You drive a Land Rover, therefore you’ll have a collection of tools to hand!” was his reply.

We both laughed, and I lent him one of a collection of adjustable spanner’s that I had tucked away.

Not longer after that a colleague introduced me to her brother-in-law, Chris, whom she said shared the same symptoms: no life, etc....

Chris showed me the life of a proper Land Rover owner, the club scene. It was then I joined Red Rose Land Rover club, and as a young and easily influenced 19 year old, I was hooked, it was Land Rover only from then on, other 4x4s were simply irrelevant.

Lancashire Concrete Quarry, just outside Chorley, was where I learnt the basics of off-road driving during their play days, and whilst watching their trials is where I learnt about the lines you’d take whilst driving challenging routes.

Being a long wheel base, we were often called into action when friends and family were moving house - my mate Barrie twice, and countless times for my girlfriend at the time.

Still in the late 1980s, I had begun working at British Home Stores, and after learning that I drove a ‘truck’ they had me nipping to the other stores collecting tills and bits.

On one occasion I was asked to collect a bunch load of Christmas brochures from a printers. That was the first time I had seen her rear springs sag under any weight.

Adding to the fun, not only was it snowing, but I was parked on a steep hill that had cars spinning in all directions trying to climb, but without any joy. I engaged low box, selected second gear and simply drove up the hill as though it was a summer day!

Of course, being an older Land Rover it wasn’t immune to parts failing and falling off. After a weekend in the Lakes with the previously mentioned girlfriend, we called into the services on the M6 for a splash ‘n’ dash, and on reentering the motorway I heard a cluck from underneath. I checked my near side mirror and spotted something rolling onto the hard shoulder, remember those? As there was no adverse affect to her handling, I figuring it was just a clump of mud and thought nothing of it.

The following morning on the way to work I suddenly became aware of a weird sensation, a bit like have two flat tyres at the rear. Pulling over I checked the tyres and they were both fully inflated, but the wheels looked a little odd. On closer inspection I noticed that the rear, near side u-bolt was missing, I dare say now residing on the hard shoulder of the M6! I actually enjoyed fixing her, but it always seemed like a battle with my Dad as he’d literally shove me out of the way when something went wrong. Like the replacing the u-bolt, I had everything to hand and was just about to begin when he’d pinch the spanner out of my hand take over!

Getting insurance was fun and always resulted in same questions like, “Are you a farmer?” “No.” “Then why do you want to drive a Land Rover?”

Eventually, living a champagne lifestyle on a beer salary caught up with me and I ended up having to trade her in for a Nissan Cherry, which incidentally turned out to be a cracking car. Amusingly, an hour after trading her in I drove the Nissan to Wales, and after 100 miles or so I tapped the fuel gauge thinking it was broken as it had hardly moved, as I wasn’t used to that sort of economy!